An All-American Dog!
By Shirley Raye
Redmond
He was big
and black and handsome. He crossed the continent with the Lewis and Clark expedition and was a fine
hunter, providing geese and rabbits for the communal cooking pot. He awed the
Indians. He kept the members of the Corps safe from grizzly bear attacks, and
Lewis even named a creek in Montana after him. He was known as Seaman, and he
was Lewis' beloved Newfoundland.
Like the
United States itself, the Newfoundland breed was fairly new at the time the expedition began.
Meriweather Lewis purchased the dog for the staggering sum of $20, while in
Philadelphia visiting President Jefferson's scientific colleagues, for their advice in the
areas of natural science, field medicine and astronomical navigation.
When the
expedition left St. Louis, Missouri, on the morning of May 14,
1804, the group consisted of "40 men and
one dog of the Newfoundland breed." Seaman's size, strength and swimming
ability made him an ideal exploring companion for the men in the Corps of
Discovery.
Seaman
proved his worth time and time again. Lewis recorded in his
journal that," squirrels are in great
abundance--I made my dog take as many each day as I had occasion for; they were fat and
I find them when fried a pleasant food."
The dog also volunteered his services
as a retriever—to the delight of the surprised men. No stream, creek or
river was too cold or too deep to prevent Seaman from plunging in to retrieve
geese and mallards.
But the long
trek was no picnic for the large, shaggy dog. Seaman shared every danger and despair that the men
endured--heavy rain, hailstorms and high tides, to name just a few. He
trudged through the deep snow in the Bitterroot Range and fell out of a capsizing
canoe into churning rapids more than once. Mosquitoes as big as hummingbirds
plagued the entire team, and Lewis wrote "my dog howls with the torture he
experiences from them."
Once Seaman
was bit by a beaver in the hind leg and suffered a cut artery. " It was with great difficulty that I
stopped the bleeding. I fear it will yet prove fatal," Lewis lamented at the
time.
The men in
the exploration team took turns nursing Seaman, and the dog recovered with astonishing swiftness.
By saving Seaman's life, they unknowingly saved their own, for Seaman
proved a most adequate protection against their number one danger in the wilds
of western America—the grizzly bear.
Regarding
the frequent grizzly bear encounters, Lewis complained that the beasts were troublesome and "I do not
think it prudent to send one man alone on an errand of any kind, particularly
when he has to pass through the brush."
He also noted in his journal that,
he'd rather "fight two Indians than one
bear" and was grateful that, "our dog
gives us timely notice of their visits."
Seaman hated the bears, which the
explorers dubbed, "ursus
horribilus." He could smell them a
mile off and was constantly patrolling the
campsite at night. And it was a good
thing he did. More than once a grizzly
made its way into camp to help itself
to provisions.
Lewis
recorded one particular incident when a bear came into the camp
"and ate about thirty pounds of buffalo
suet, which was hanging on a pole. My dog," he went on, "seems to be in a
constant state of alarm with these bears and keeps barking all night long."
On another
occasion, the men again shot a buffalo for fresh meat and were chased away from their booty by a
giant grizzly, which quickly ambled out of the woods and challenged them for the
carcass. Even the
Native Americans were impressed with Seaman's good looks and what Lewis called, "my dog's sagacity."
On one
occasion, three Chinook braves crept into camp and "kidnapped" the huge dog. Lewis was, in his own
words, "provoked beyond measure."
He gave orders for some of his men to
go after the thieves and to kill them,
if necessary. And this order from a
captain who'd promised his Jefferson, his Commander in Chief, that he would not
permit unnecessary bloodshed on the journey!
Fortunately,
violence was avoided when the tribal elders forced the young thieves to return the dog to its
rightful (and indignant) owner.
Another time, a Shawnee chief offered
Lewis three beaver skins for the dog. "Of course," Lewis later wrote,
"there was no bargain."
|
