Transcribed by TurboScribe.ai
Welcome to the Reverie Nature Podcast. I'm Chad Clifford, your host, and in today's episode, we explore John Muir's fascinating experiences with dogs in the wild, as recounted by storyteller Howard Clifford, who re-enacts two significant stories. In the Reverie Nature Podcast, you can expect to find a wide variety of topics on the nature experience, from bushcraft, survival skills, nature lore, animal tracks and sign, storytelling, nature soundscapes, and much more.
These are the lessons and skills I've been teaching for decades. So before we dig in, please take a moment to subscribe and consider offering your support to the podcast. In previous episodes, I've had Howard Clifford re-enactments of David Thoreau, Grey Owl, and more stories from John Muir, so check those out if you haven't already.
And just in case you're not familiar with John Muir, he was a Scottish-born American naturalist, author, and an advocate for the preservation of wilderness in the United States. He's often referred to as the father of the national parks due to his pivotal role in the establishment of several national parks, including Yosemite. John Muir's writing and activism greatly influenced the conservation movement and inspired countless individuals to appreciate and protect the natural world.
Our first tale is set in 1869, and it involves Carlo, the St. Bernard who became a reliable companion of Muir's during a summer spent herding sheep in the Sierras. Carlo's companionship not only highlighted the profound connection between man and dog, but also underscored the lessons learned from nature's unpredictable encounters. So sit back, and let's hear from Howard Clifford do his re-enactment of John Muir.
My name is John Muir. I've often been asked to share my experiences in wilderness with dogs. I've written twice about dogs, included dogs in my writings, but I really find writing tiresome and tedious.
I keep searching for a word to make sure it expresses what I'm experiencing or what I mean to share, and it just never seems to come right. But I love to talk, because when you're telling stories, you have an audience. You can see if maybe they're misunderstanding what you're saying, or they're puzzled, so you can rephrase it.
And it's an interaction with your audience, and, oh, I always love that. And so I'm pleased today to share two stories that I had with dogs. Both of these dogs impacted my life.
I've actually bonded with them, and they're always in my mind. I've always liked dogs, but I never took them on my wilderness treks. First of all, sometimes I would go 50 miles in a day, which is way too long for a dog.
And even more importantly, I just carried a blanket, hard bread, often a bit hungry myself by the time I got back. I had no way to carry food for a dog. The first dog story I'd like to share took place in 1869.
It was my first summer in the Sierras. You see, after I left the University of Wisconsin, I spent two years in what I called the University of Wilderness. Two years in the backwoods of Canada.
It was a great experience. I learned so much. And following that, I went for a thousand-mile walk to Florida Keys and onto Cuba.
But I had to curtail the trip because I'd come down with malaria. And then I came to California. And when I laid my eyes upon Yosemite, it just seemed to me this was going to be my home.
I mean, in Canada and then in my trip to Florida, nature taught me so much. I saw new animals that I'd never seen before, alligators, plants that I'd never seen before. I just saw nature in all of its glory working according to its situation.
But I've actually came and saw the Yosemite in 1858, the summer before. And I committed myself to come back and to do anything I could to just make enough to be able to stay there. Actually, my first time I came to Yosemite, I had met Patrick Delaney.
I got an odd job from him. It's shearing sheep. And so in 1869, which I was to spend my first summer, I was surprised when he approached me.
He said, I want you to take my sheep up into the highlands, the higher regions, for the summer. And I immediately said, you know, I don't know this area. I don't know how to protect the sheep from the wild animals.
I'm afraid I would lose half of your flock. And he just waved his hand and said, oh, don't worry about that. I've got people with you that will handle all that.
I just want somebody I can trust to make sure that the sheep herder and the other staff are doing their duties. And you'll be free to study the rocks and the plants that you love to do in this scenery. You can combine both together.
And I'll even come out a couple times during the summer to make sure things are going well. Well, this just seemed so perfect to me. Now, just before I was to leave, another interesting person, Smokey Jack Canal, approached me.
He was a hunter that I didn't know well, but I had met. And he had understood that I was going to be going with the sheep up into the higher regions. And he came almost begging, would I take his dog, Carlo, at St. Bernard, up with me? Because he was afraid that out here in the plains, it would get so fiercely hot during the summer that he would actually perish.
And he said, he'll be grateful. He'll be a help. He'll be a camp guard.
He'll even help manage the sheep. He'll be no problem to you. He'll prove to be faithful and able in every way.
Well, this sounded good to me. But when he made the statement, I think I can trust you to be kind, I just was aware of how much he loved his dog. And this was unusual to have a person that had grown up that would go out of his way to make sure his animal, his pet, would be healthy.
And during all our discussion, Carlo was just laying down, but he was looking at us so intently that it seemed to me that he not only knew that we were talking about him, I fancied he even knew what we were saying. He understood. And so I finally turned to Carlo, and I said, are you willing, Carlo, to go with me? He looked at me, and then he looked over to his master, who gave him a wave of his hand toward me.
And so he got up. He got a caress from his owner. And he followed me.
And he followed me in a way as if he had known me all of his life. Well, it did turn out to be true. He was a wonderful companion.
He never actually gave me a peck of concern, except near the end of the summer. He just disappeared. I couldn't understand this.
He'd never done anything like this before. And I was really worried. I thought, I can't leave him up here.
I can't leave and go back without him. I'd already come to bond with him. I was responsible for him.
But all of a sudden, he reappeared. And I looked at him in an accusatory voice. Where have you been? How come you left without getting permission? And he immediately went into a guilty, submissive stance.
But soon as he knew that I wasn't really mad and that I was happy to see him, his body language completely changed. He was as happy as I to be reunited and still in good standing. And I have to say, he was so faithful during that summer.
It was me who gave him cause to have concern. And this comes to the reason I have written about this, and I'm now sharing the story. It's a time I'll never forget.
We're out on a trek. He was accompanying me. He was several yards ahead.
And suddenly he froze. All his senses became alive. And then he turned, came back and looked at me as if to make sure I understood that he had known there was a bear there to warn me there was a bear ahead.
He knew the routine because he had been out with the hunters. He knew this was the time to help me get close to the bear, and then I would shoot it. Well, he went very quietly ahead of me.
Then he crouched, froze, and I knew there was a meadow that I could just see through the woods. But the bear had to be there. So I passed Carlo as quietly as I could, sneaking to the edge of the meadow.
And there was one large tree there I hid behind it, so I could peek out and take a look. And there, only a stone throw away, a 500 pound cinnamon bear. His back was, I couldn't really see his back, it was covered in tall grasses.
And his front feet were on top of a fallen tree. And it was a big tree, and with his feet so high it made it look as if he was standing erect. I'd never been so close to a bear in my life.
But I didn't feel any fear, it was excitement. He was like close up, I could observe every trait about this bear. I wanted to do so before he got spooked and ran away.
I'd been told that bears in the Oceania were innately afraid of humans. Even the Lanny had told me that they were the hardest animal to hunt because you could never get close enough to them. I noticed that Carlo was watching me intently, wondering what I was up to.
Everything he had experienced before I knew that this was the time I should be shooting. But I always thought, I'd love to see this giant animal run, to see its gate, how it managed to run so fast. So I jumped out behind the tree, waving my hat, screaming like a madman, and charged toward him.
Then I looked up to see his gate. He hadn't moved at all. Except he was now standing fully erect, looking fiercely at me, and I wouldn't more than a dozen yards away.
Probably two leaps and he would be upon me. Then suddenly I realized the danger I was in. Everything within me said, run, run.
But perhaps it was just an innate instinct, but I knew I shouldn't run. I did make a mistake. I stood my ground, but I looked him straight in the eye, which I now know I shouldn't have done.
But I was just hoping against hope that I could stare him down and he would leave. Then suddenly, not really suddenly, slowly, he took his feet off the log, turned completely in control. He knew he was in control, but I had nothing I could do.
He looked at me, slowly turned around, and sauntered off, occasionally looking back to see what I was up to. What I felt so small, so humiliated, I walked back meekly to Carlo. Oh, if you could have seen his face, it was like language could never express.
He was saying, what in the world were you up to? I couldn't believe that any human would be so stupid as to do what you did. And I knew he also knew, even though he wasn't really expressing it, that I'd also put his life at risk. Because I knew, I knew right then, that if the bear had of attacked, he would have been right on that bear.
Even though it'd probably mean the loss of his own life. I apologized to him. We walked back to camp.
My respect for him knew no end. And I'll never forget him. That concludes part one.
Next week, part two. And we go to a very different setting. The icy regions of Alaska, 11 years later in Mir's light, where he encounters a small, uninsuming dog named Stakeem.
Despite his initial doubts, Stakeem would go on to have an even more significant impact on Mir's life. Stay tuned as we dive into this incredible tale of adventure, survival, and the deep bond formed in the heart of nature's harshest environments. Thank you for joining us on the Reverie Nature Podcast.
Transcribed by TurboScribe.ai.
