Seaman probably looked a lot like this Newfoundland.
In the past few years, it has been commonplace to talk about “Seaman,” the Newfoundland the Lewis and Clark “Corps of Discovery” expedition. Lewis purchased him for $20 at Pittsburgh in 1803. That’s where the expedition set off down the Ohio.
Newfoundland dog enthusiasts have hitched their wagon to Seaman’s star, and various portrayals of Seaman show him as a heavily boned dog with thick hair. Most books and portraits portray him as a black dog that looks exactly like the modern show Newfoundland,
But is this portrayal accurate?
Well, it’s probably not.
For one thing, the really big Newfoundlands of that did not have such a Molosser appearance– except in a few European examples of the breed (see Bewick’s representation). Most North American examples of the breed were more like large retrievers.
Almost all were black and white. That was the color of the dog dealers’ stock. Newfoundlands were among the earliest breeds offered as mass produced family pets. Indeed, they were probably the first mass-produced fad dog in North America and Europe. They were the Labrador retrievers of their day.
In addition to being widely sought after as pets, the dogs were used as retrievers. It’s likely that when the term Newfoundland was used for a retriever in the nineteenth century that it could mean both the ancestor of the modern Newfoundland and the St. John’s water dog, which is somewhat similar dog from Newfoundland but a bit smaller and usually with a short coat. (That’s one reason why this gets very confusing.)
It is most likely that he was a black and white dog that was very similar to a large golden retriever.
Not unlike this dog that Custer captured during the Peninsula Campaign:
This dog is a Newfoundland that belonged to some Confederates. I've seen a few sources that claim this dog is a collie. He is not.
So this notion that Seaman looked like a show Newfoundland is a bit of lore.
It’s a bit like the notion that any dog belonging to a Scottish crofter looked anything like Lassie. It’s good lore, but it’s probably not accurate.
However, if an sculptor or artist portrayed Seaman as he probably looked, it is likely that the Newfoundland fanciers would be quite angry. Already, I’ve seen rather robust debates as the identity of “Swansea Jack,” a legendary hero dog that rescued people from drowning near the docks of Swansea, Wales. In some places he’s called a retriever, and in others, he’s called Newfoundland. But as we have seen with Zelstone, neither identity was mutually exclusive at the time.
I can see myself with a Siamese cat.
Actually I don’t at all.
One of my favorite animals is a Siamese that belongs to an acquaintance. She’s such an intelligent and graceful animal that I very nearly walked out the door with her the first time we met.
I was not raised in a cat owning home. I had everything else but cats.
Now, IMHO, a cat is not a dog. It’s also not a horse.
If you’re a dog or horse belonging to a member of my family, your status is quite high. In fact, they are just a rung lower than the people of the family.
Perhaps this comes from what was previous practical. Horses and dogs cost money. They also more than paid their keep. And because the cur and feist dogs that belonged to my ancestor also were superior mousers and ratters, there was no need for cats.
It is also possible that some residue of the religious persecution of cats remained in my background. Cat persecution was encouraged by protestant sects in Germany and England, for it was believed that cats had something of the devil in them. I guess it’s their eyes, which look nothing like any other domestic animal’s.
The cats I did know were all barn animals and were not socialized to people.
But I really think it comes from a deeper appreciation of avian and small mammal species that led us away from cat keeping. Rats and mice might be bad, but squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, game birds, and songbirds were seen as good creatures, in part because some of them were eaten.
I’ve come to appreciate cats, but I probably will never appreciate them in the same way that I appreciate dogs and horses. Maybe it’s historical practicality. Maybe it’s the residue of former religious dogma. Or maybe it’s just how I’m wired.
But I’m a dog and horse person.
That is, until I wind up with Siamese. I don’t know what it is, but I am really attracted to these cats and their mannerisms.
Well, according this piece, it’s becoming something like an American Lake District.
And the more I think about it, he has to be right.
I grew up within 20 yards of the forest. Indeed, our lawn was merely the land we mowed every week. Everything else was left to mature into tall timber for the squirrels and deer. Wild turkeys often roosted in the hickory trees at the edge of the front yard, and does gave birth to their fawns in thickets of multiflora rose and autumn olives (both introduced species) that could easily be illumined by our porch lights.
I remember spring mornings when the birds would wake me up before the alarm clock buzzed the hectic day into existence. The birds would sing and the light would gradually fill the sky as the sun rose from the easternmost ridges behind the house.
I always thought I was lucky– and horribly spoiled– to have grown up in such a place. The natural world was always at my fingertips– in all its glorious and horrific splendor.
My professional life requires that I must make some accomodation with the contrivances of concrete and cut stone that we call cities. This is where the epitome of earthly creation supposedly exists– cultured and commercial man. All of these are the fruits of man’s creativity and ingenuity.
But that same ingenuity and creativity are really good at deluding us. They aren’t as good at deluding us as our ego is, but they are awfully good at it.
We are not beyond the laws of nature. Our brains might develop new ways to use the earth’s resources, but they don’t change the fact that those natural resources are still finite.
Growing up that close the natural processes, close to the pulsating forces of life on this planet, I came to understand that nature is not something we can avoid forever. It has a way of taking our egos down a notch.
And maybe that will be West Virginia’s hope.
Of course, if that becomes the reality, the common people won’t have access to all the things they currently enjoy. Land value will increase, as will property taxes. Yuppies won’t like having bawling coonhounds running through backyard at 3 in the morning.
So maybe it will be hope for some, and not such a good thing for others. Of course, that’s the way it is now.
On youtube!
Source (follow the other parts at youtube)
This film is by Jamie Uys, who also made the film The Gods Must Be Crazy.
This film features creatures of the Kalahari, the Namib, and the Okavango Delta– all of which are in Southern Africa.
The only part I don’t like, although perhaps its most famous or infamous, is the scene in which the animals get drunk by eating fruit from the marula tree. That most likely doesn’t happen, simply because no fruit in the wild gets to ferment to that level before it is eaten. However, we have a similar legend in my part of the world. Supposedly, ruffed grouse eat too many over-ripe berries in late summer and become quite drunk. That’s why they fly into windows.
I doubt both of the stories.
In the film’s case, I think an elephant would have to eat a large amount of over-ripe fruit in order to get drunk.
But it’s still a good film!
For the feral cat advocates, I have a very simple question:
If cats are a domesticated animal, then why is that they are allowed to roam everywhere?
You can’t let dogs, cattle, or horses do that. (Unless it’s grazing or hunting on public land or letting the dogs run at the dog park.)
And if a ferret ever was found roaming, I’m sure people would be demanding that they be banned.
I find that we have very unbalanced laws on animals in this country.
Dogs might be a predatory species, and they might kill deer and other animals. They are predators of livestock, especially sheep and goats. However, dogs actually have to learn how to kill, usually from other dogs. The motor patterns that dogs have for hunting and killer are innate; however, they have to learn to right context to use those motor patterns. They usually learn it from other dogs. Also, selective breeding has reduced or exaggerated certain motor patterns in dogs that prevents them from being effective predators. Most feral dog populations, like those that have been extensively studied in Italy, are scavengers.
For example, my golden retriever caught a small cottontail rabbit a few weeks ago, but she has been selected to not have the killing bite. Now, a retriever can learn to have a killing bite, but it’s not something they typically have in their predatory motor patterns. Now, non-retrieving retrievers can have this sequence.
Cats are much more instinctive hunters. They usually have the full sequence of hunting motor patterns. All they have to learn is what species to hunt.
Very often, they learn to hunt just about everything.
Now, I’m okay with native predators taking animals.
But I’m not okay with Mesopotamia wildcats taking millions of birds and small animals every year. Not only are they harming populations of those animals, they are competing with native wild predators for those resources.
More cats means fewer rabbits for beaglers and rabbit courses to chase. More cats means fewer game birds for gun dog enthusiasts to shoot.
I have often wondered why that people turn to cats whenever there is a rodent investation. Ferrets and terriers are a far better alternative.
Why?
Because you can direct a ferret or terrier into a barn or granary and easily pick it up after its done its damage. Using them does mean that you have to actually turn them out and watch them, but you know that your animal is doing its work and not killing off all the song birds or annoying the neighbors who like to feed the songbirds.
In fact, ferret droppings have long been known to be a rat repellent.
Rats and mice have an instinctive fear of mustelids, and the very scent of ferret droppings will send them running.
So ferret shit is a far more ecologically friendly way of ridding yourself of rats and mice than releasing the weapon of small animal destruction that we call the domestic cat.
And why would anyone think that releasing sterilized feral cats in an area would be a good idea?
I suppose if you really hate having native mammals and birds around, it would be a great idea.
If you like the idea of replacing native predators with an introduced one, it is an even better idea.
If any other introduced species killed native wildlife like cats do, most people would be demanding that they be controlled or eradicated.
When Burmese pythons went feral in South Florida, there is a huge movement to ban the ownership of large pythons, not just in Florida but in the US entirely. Because giant African land snails went feral in Florida, the various species of African land snail are currently banned nationwide.
Now, I’m not saying we should ban cats, and I’m okay with keeping barn cats near agricultural enterprises. I’m saying that in every other circumstance, cats need to be controlled. They need to be behind fenced yards or on leashes. Cat fencing exists. (Thanks to Pai for showing me this link at Terrierman.)
Further, if you actually cared about your pet cats, letting them roam is a terrible risk. Dogs and coyotes can kill them, and in some areas of the country, cougars have been seen preying on them. Further, they are exposed to disease, infection, and injury from other cats.
If they are truly a domestic animal, it is the ultimate cruelty to leave them up to their own devices. In the case of ferals, euthanizing them is responsible.
Now, if they are truly wild animals, then conservation agencies should have jurisdiction over them. In that case, they could set up controlled culls for cats.
But people want them in no man’s land.
They want to keep them as pets, so they can’t be culled like other introduced species. And they want them exempt from any laws that curb their roaming and/or firmly establish ownership. It’s like cats are allowed to exist in total anarchy.
I am deeply concerned about the ecology of this country. We have so many unique species. I don’t think we truly recognize the wonders of biodiversity on this continent. We certainly didn’t when Europeans first settled here. But now that we are beginning to realize that some of our actions are really harming the planet and the other species with which we share it. And we are contributing to these problems by letting our pet cats roam at large and by maintaining feral cat colonies.
Just as true greens must look at hunters differently than that animal rights fanatics, true greens may have to reconsider how we view cats. Sometimes facts and logic reveal uncomfortable realities, but denying the realities doesn’t wind up helping anything.
Just like we know bull and terriers and monkeys are natural enemies! Of course, I don't support animal baiting or dogfighting at all.
White rhinos can’t swim, or so I’ve read.
But black rhinos can.
I don’t think they often run into crocs, and if I were a croc and saw one in a river, I wouldn’t think of it as very strange zebra (and therefore, very good to eat.)
It kind of reminds me of a Godzilla film.
(BTW, Mothra is my favorite of the Japanese movie monsters. It’s a giant moth from Hell!)
Warning: Totally fictitious dog breed history in this post!
Mississippi swamp hounds do not make good foxhounds. Here, we see them allowing a fox to infiltrate their pack. However, a fox hunter might be able to use a pack like this. All he has to do is take the pack to a gatorhole, and all the hounds will go in, leaving the fox exposed and easily dispatched with use of a firearm.
Derived from dogs brought to Mississipi by de Soto’s men, the Mississippi swamp hound was bred to hunt alligators. It is believed to be part Spanish war mastiff, Cuban bloodhound, turnspit, Belgian Trekhon, and red wolf . It is also believed to have a touch of very stupid retriever in its background, although some people claim that it’s actually very stupid poodle-type breed called a “Portuguese water hound.”
Now to hunt an alligator, a dog needs a good nose, but to hunt them effectively, the dog must entice the ‘gator to the hunter’s rifle. The best way to do this for the dog to jump into the body of water to toll in the big ‘gators. Of course, most normal hounds and curs have sense enough to stay out of gatorholes. That’s where an unusual selective breeding program was attempted.
So ‘gator hunters in Mississippi developed a plan– breed for dogs that have no sense whatsoever. They bred dogs that licked themselves in intersections to other dogs that thought chasing trains on the railroad was just like chasing cats.
After several generations, they developed a dog with such superior stupidity that it could easily bring in the ‘gators. In fact, it was the alligator hunter’s breed of choice, and it is widely believed that this hound is credited with nearly making the American alligator extinct.
Today the breed is widely praised for its stupidity. You can leave one in a backyard with the gate open all day, and the dog will stay right there. And you can also take your Mississippi swamp hound shark fishing or cougar hunting.
However, this breed has been banned from importation into Australia, India, and Cameroon, for it is belied to be so effective at attracting species of endangered crocodilians to the hunters’ guns that it could be very detrimental to fragile crocodile populations.
The Mississippi swamp hound has just been moved to the AKC’s Miscellaneous Class, where a standard is being drawn up. However, it is feared that forcing this breed into the AKC registry will harm its unique working abilitiess
Dissident Swamp hound owner Jimbo “‘Possum Face” Magoo complains that “The AKC won’t let me breed any stupid mutts into my breeding program, and once they start competing in competitive obedience, they’ll make them smart. Then they won’t want to jump in the water with the ‘gators no more. I guess I’ll just have to do it myself!”
Magoo and his ‘gator hunters comrades have formed their own registry, The Working Mississippi Swamp Hound Association. Their standard is based upon behavioral and functional comformation. “A swamp hound must be dumber than a rock, but he must swim better than one,” says their breed standard.
Average life expectancy for a Mississippi swamp hound is 12-14 years for a nonworking dog. The life expectancy of a working swamp hound is dependent upon the temperature of the water in which he swims. If the water is below 68 degrees, the alligators lose their appetite and don’t want to eat the dog. If the water is warmer, then live expectancy is largely determined on how fast the dog can swim.
Don’t expect one to be good at competitive obedience or watch dog work. However, a Mississippi swamp hound is a good dog to have if you work long hours. When you leave the house, they don’t know you’re even gone at first, and when they do figure out you’re gone, they’ll spend the rest of the day looking for you. Now that’s piece of mind.
Who says you need a smart dog? Sometimes stupidity is just what you need.
And in this case, it is functional behavioral conformation.
Jiggs was a feist, but he was almost solid black, except for a white ring around his neck.
My grandfather was born during the Great Depression, and his first job was hoeing corn for 10 cents a day at the tender age of 6. He often tells me stories of that time, but almost all of them go back to the times he spent hunting with his little varmint dog.
His first dog was a feist, although he says no one ever called them that. They were just varmint dogs. In this part of the world, I’ve always suspected that pinschers or pinscher type dogs played some role in the development of the feists and curs, because many of them have a pinscher appearance. And the area had lots of German settlements and German immigrants (including members of my family).
That dog sired a litter out another feist. This other feist was half-spitz or half Pomeranian (the terms weren’t as clear cut as they are today). The bitch was black. Out of that litter were born five black puppies, one of which had a white ring around its neck.
While the bitch was in whelp, a ignorant neighbor did an awful thing. He chopped my grandpa’s feist’s head off. Instead of keeping his bitches locked up when they were in heat, he was more than willing to kill all the dogs that came calling. (There were no leash laws in those days, and it was legal and customary to let your male dogs roam, provided they were trained not to kill sheep, run cattle, or worry chickens.)
Now, such a crime was not well-received in the community. To kill someone’s dog was an absolutely horrible thing to do– especially if it was a child’s dog. The news soon spread the feist bitch’s owner, who invited my grandpa down to his place shortly after the puppies arrive. He told my grandpa to pick out the pup he wanted, and he would send the puppy up with the mail man. He chose the little black one with a white ring around its neck.
About a month later, the mail arrived, and a little black puppy with a white ring around its neck was delivered. He was named Jiggs, and he became a superior little varmint dog.
He was then trained as a varmint dog. He treed squirrels, raccoons, and opossums and bayed up rabbits and foxes in groundhog holes. He was too big to really work as a terrier, but that problem was remedied. The next animal my grandpa received was an albino ferret, which he used to drive the rabbits out of the pipes and groundhog dens into Jiggs’s jaws. (Of course, using ferrets to rabbit in West Virginia was against the law, even back then.)
That worked well for about a year or two. One day, however, the ferret bolted the rabbit, and Jiggs missed. Then the ferret came to the surface, running as fast as a ferret can. Jiggs didn’t miss the ferret and quickly dispatched him. And that was the end of that hunting arrangement.
Jiggs was such a well liked dog that people would pick him up as he walked along the road. In rural West Virginia, dogs could roam at will, and some dogs developed such a good reputation that they were called “community dogs.” That meant that they were staples of the community, and that anyone would feed them or take them hunting. Today, this custom is largely restrained by leash laws, but at the time, dogs were seen as important animals that deserved some respect. Perhaps this goes back to the days on the frontier, when a good dog could help provide food and furs, bring in the milch cows and sheep, and act as a guard against humans and predatory animals.
My grandpa had Jiggs all through his childhood, but when he moved out of his parents’ house to a home closer to town, Jiggs followed him. He would wander from my great-grandparents’ farm all the way through town to my grandpa’s new house. He would stay a week or two, then he’d go back.
Then when my grandpa built his own house near where I am writing this post, Jiggs was brought over to stay. However, he soon wandered back to my great-grandparents’ home. He simply couldn’t stay in one place.
Then one day, he disappeared. He couldn’t be found at either house, and none of his usual benefactors, who often picked him up along the road, had seen him.
He was nowhere.
He was gone for about a month, and then one day he appeared at my grandpa’s new house. He was dragging a tie-out chain, and he was wearing a new collar with a new rabies tag. Someone had picked him up and tried to keep him as their own. Jiggs had already had his rabies vaccine that year, so now he was double-vaccinated!
But the dogs free-roaming days were soon to end. A fox bit someone up the road and because he thought he was developing rabies, shot himself.
The county went on a quarantine for dogs. All strays were picked up and gassed. No hounds could be run.
Jiggs was out roaming when the edicts were put in force. Jiggs didn’t normally wear a collar or tag– everyone knew who he was and who he belonged to.
The dog catchers didn’t know this, and old Jiggs was picked up. He put int he back with all the poor dogs that were about to be gassed.
The dog catchers stopped at the gas station to fill up before taking their collection of strays to the facility. A neighbor happened to stop by, and he looked over the collection of strays in the back of the dog catchers’ truck. He noticed a small black and white dog with a ring around its neck. After closer inspection, he realized the dog was Jiggs.
When the dogcatchers came out of the gas station, the neighbor told them to turn out that little black dog, because he was vaccinated for rabies and taxes were paid for him. He was the community dog, and he was an excellent varmint dog. Several people came by and vouched for the little dog.
Not wanting to upset the community too much, the dogcatchers turned Jiggs out at the gas station.
He went on his merry way.
For 19 years Jiggs was a varmint dog. But as he aged, he stopped leaping at the tree when he treed a squirrel.
He would just lie down at the foot of the tree and bark.
But for shortly before he turned 20, old Jiggs just didn’t get up one morning.
And thus ended the story of a brave little feist, the community dog.
What is the future of the golden retriever?
I often think about this subject, and let’s just say I don’t see the glass as half full. It seems emptier every time I look at it.
Fewer and fewer goldens have retrieving instinct and possess the nose and biddability of a good working retriever, and those that do come from somewhat inbred lines. The only solution to some of the inbreeding is to do outcrosses.
The problem with outcrosses is that we don’t have the absolute best dogs to outcross with. Show goldens don’t really have the body type that makes for an efficient retriever, and in the US lines, they have too much coat. In the UK and FCI lines, they are the wrong color. Trust me, dark color is functional conformation! The dark color is easier to see in a cut corn or grain field if shooting pheasants, but it is also good camouflage in the reeds if waterfowling. And even fewer of them have retrieving instinct.
Our solution is that we wish to breed a good thoroughbred or warmblood, but all we have for outcrosses are Belgian draft horses to increase genetic diversity.
Now, we can breed dogs with poor working characteristics into those lines and then breed back to working characteristics. However, that means that we must sacrifice the working ability of a generation or two just to increase genetic diversity.
I find this a very imperfect solution, because while you are increasing diversity, you are also increasing your chances of getting that particular conformation in your working stock.
It would be better if we had, as we call them in West Virginia, a “come to Jesus meeting” with the show people, and actually showed them what functional conformation looked like, even running dogs of different conformation in order for them to get a feel for what is functional and what is an encumbers efficient movement.
That’s the only solution I have to this problem. When the golden retriever was began to become noticed by retriever fanciers in the early twentieth century, it was in a terrible shape in terms of conformation. They were all short-legged and heavy-boned, and the normal flat and way-coated retrievers could run circles around them. But it wasn’t long before selective breeding reduced the bone and lengthened the legs of the goldens and made them more competitive with their black and liver brethren.
I certainly don’t see why this cannot be accomplished again through careful selective breeding. But we actually have to do it. Only then will the glass fill up again.
I don’t want our dogs to become like the Sussex spaniels, a rare breed and very much a novelty as a working dog. (They do exist, but it’s one breed of spaniel that suffered from the fad of breeding them for very short legs. The field spaniel also suffered from this, but today, they aren’t bred with short legs.)
