Natural History

(source for image)

From New England Magazine (January 1834):

On the 11th of August, we departed for Newfoundland, not unwillingly leaving this country of stones, though it had given us gratification and instruction. We were often confined to the cabin, by rain, and we had few books. But, luckily for us, Mr. Audubon himself was a volume not to be exhausted. He is full of anecdote and originality.

We anchored next at the head of St. George’s Bay, in Newfoundland, where there is quite a settlement of fishermen,—for such seems the occupation of all the islanders. There was on the bay, also, an Indian camp. They were of the Mickmac tribe, and filthy and indolent to an extreme. They are averse to all exercise. They hunt only on the pressure of hunger, and they had their little provision in camp, the head of a caribou,—or American rein-deer. This part of Newfoundland had much of the character of Labrador. The soil, however, was more productive, and we found wild roses and tall pines, though there were many dwarf trees. We found here the fruit called, from similarity of taste, the baked apple. In form, it is like a thimbleberry, and the taste is exactly what its name denotes. The most beautiful plant we saw, was a species or two of kalmia.

The inhabitants retire in winter into the country, where, in the woods and sheltered places, they have comfortable log-houses. Many of them are quite intelligent, though the most of them thought their climate preferable to any other; but I am too experienced in the ways of the world, ever to speak ill of a man’s dog or climate. Of the two, I would sooner venture to speak disrespectfully of the climate in this region. Of the dogs, we obtained seven; one of which, while with us, dived five fathoms, and brought up a seal that had been shot, larger than herself (pg 381).

This account is from a person who accompanied John James Audubon on his second trip to Labrador. The dogs in the account are likely St. John’s water dogs, for the St. George’s Bay (“Bay St. George”) is on the western side of Newfoundland, which is where the dogs were relatively common well into the twentieth century.

This seal was likely a harbor seal. I somehow doubt that a dog of any size could haul out a massive gray seal, which also could be found in great numbers on Newfoundland’s west coast.

These seals were hunted for their meat and for the oil that could be made from their blubber. In a time when whale blubber was quite valuable, fatty marine mammals of all sorts were rendered down to train. Even polar bears could be a source of this oil, and they certainly weren’t going to let a fat seal get away.

The seal likely was wounded and dived to escape its hunters.

I do not know if the dog actually followed the seal down that far. It may be a bit of an exaggeration, but many modern retrievers do dive— just not that far down.

Maybe this particular dog had a penchant for seal retrieving, and she learned how to dive very far down in search of her quarry.

However, this seal was likely only wounded, and even the best water dog can’t swim as well as seal. The fact that this seal was wounded also would have made it fairly dangerous activity. She wouldn’t be retrieving an angry Canada goose; she’d be retrieving something with teeth.

This account is further testament to the toughness of these old water curs. This dog probably enjoyed the challenge of catching that old wounded seal every bit as much as her modern retriever cousins enjoy fetching tennis balls and birds.

Tough old water cur.

These creatures of legend:

This water cur was sent down to fetch back a sea monster.

And she happily did so.

The canine version of Beowulf grappling with Grendel’s mother.