Plains Folk

NEWS for North Dakotans
Agriculture Communication, North Dakota State University
7 Morrill Hall, Fargo, ND 58105-5665

May 6, 1999

Plains Folk: Canine Heroes of Western American History

Tom Isern, Professor of History
North Dakota State University

It's not something I think I need to be sheepish about, my admiration for the heroic Newfoundland dog, Seaman, who crossed the continent with the Corps of Discovery in 1804-1806. My first knowledge of the beast came from an article, "Pioneers with Wagging Tails," by Clark Spence, a pretty big name in western Americana. Now I find that Ernest S. Osgood (author of "The Day of the Cattleman") and Donald Jackson, editor of great exploration narratives, also penned sketches of this canine companion of Meriwether Lewis.

So I'm writing today in good company as I contribute my bit to the saga of Seaman. We western historians like dogs, big dogs, real dogs. It happens that I've uncovered some new information about this particular big dog. I think I can answer the question, "Why in the world did Captain Lewis take that ungainly beast along on the expedition?"

The answer lies in Canadian history, specifically in the story of Alexander Mackenzie, the stubborn Scot who ascended the waters of Peace River, portaged the Continental Divide and made his way to the Pacific in 1793—more than a decade before Lewis and Clark set out, and with a lot less official sanction or logistical support.

Mackenzie published his account of the journey in 1801, President Thomas Jefferson read it in 1802 and he and Lewis discussed it with a mixture of awe and envy. Lieutenant Clark, too, must have admired Mackenzie, who on completion of the westward passage had scrawled in vermilion on a coastal rock: "Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land, the twenty-second of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three." Clark would place similar mark of his own accomplishments at the mouth of the Columbia.

And get this: Mackenzie had a great big dog. I mean big enough that early in the journey, when he had forbidden his men to shoot buffalo for fear of rousing hostile Indians, he wrote, "We, however, sent our dog after the herd, and a calf was soon secured by him."

The dog dragged a buffalo calf into camp! This capable beast, I am sure, was a Newfoundland dog. Newfs were celebrated and popular dogs during this period, as Lord Byron's poetic eulogy (1808) to his companion, "Boatswain," attests ...

To mark a Friend's remains these stones arise,

I never knew but one, and here he lies.

The Newfoundland was the logical choice for a Mackenzie expedition dog—large (males average 150 pounds), hardy, bred for water rescue, highly intelligent. Mackenzie praised the "sagacity" of his beast. I think it no coincidence, but rather a conscious quotation, that Clark also would refer (with his lovable spelling) to "the segassity of Capt Lewis's Dog."

Mackenzie's dog—never named in his narrative—was a faithful camp guardian, sounding alarm against human and animal intruders. He also suffered some misfortunes, such as the time he became entangled in snags on the Fraser and nearly drowned, or worse, became lost for several days near the Pacific Coast—"a circumstance of no small regret to me," the stoic Scot confessed.

Lewis's Seaman pursued wounded game on land and water, kept guard (once driving a rampaging buffalo bull from camp), did tricks to impress the Indians and was certainly beloved to his master, who had purchased him in Philadelphia for $20. At one point on the Columbia, when the dog was stolen by Indians, Lewis ordered his recovery—by killing the thieves, if necessary. Unfortunately, Seaman drops out of the chronicles of the Corps of Discovery during the eastward journey home—perhaps lost.

What I like to imagine is the youthful adventurer Lewis studying the exploits of the seasoned explorer Mackenzie and thinking, "I've got to get one of those dogs."

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Source: Tom Isern (701) 231-8339

Editor: Dean Hulse (701) 231-6136