Omnivore's Delight; Or, A short history of dog eating in North America...

It occurs to me that we Americans, when presented with the idea of eating a dog, tend reflexively to call to our minds certain Asian cultures where the practice is decidedly not as taboo as it is here in the States.  Usually it's the Koreans that take the spotlight, but the Vietnamese and Chinese are certainly known to sup on the pup as well.  Maybe it was the television series M.A.S.H. - which was set in Korea - that helped cement the idea in the minds of a generation: to this day I still remember the folksy Colonel Potter and his pithy reference to the rover ragoût of the locals.  So, for whatever cause, Asia today has the preeminent reputation for its consumption, but it might surprise you to know that North America used to be quite the epicenter of dog eating as well, and especially who was eating it...

I first came into knowledge of an American form of the practice upon reading of Hernán Cortés' dramatic conquest of Aztec Mexico in 1521.  Apparently the Aztecs (and their many surrounding, subjugated vassals) had two primary, domesticated sources of meat: turkeys and dogs - especially a small, plump breed of dog comparable to a Chihuahua and called itzcuintlis.  It's important to note that prior to the arrival of the European, the Americas were completely void of  all those types of meat so well furnished at the grocers of today.  There were no cows, no pigs, no sheep, no chickens - all of that was introduced by the Europeans, and, inadvertently, with them the devastating poxes that these animals naturally carried and against which the unexposed native populations had little to no immunity.  Otherwise, there was also game to be hunted, such as deer and duck and whatnot, but as far as animals whose temperaments actually lent themselves to feasible domestication, it was just the turkey and the dog.  Today in Mexico the turkey is still known as guajalote. or to anglicize the pronunciation wa-ha-lo-tay, which is not Spanish but actually is derived from the old Nahautl tongue.

From a Diego Rivera mural of the Tlatelolco animal market in the Palacio Nacional, Mexico City.
Note the deer, fish, iguana, frogs, and succulent little dog.

It's also interesting to note that horses were not a part of the pre-Columbian American landscape, either.  They, too, arrived with the Spanish, and their absence and is often cited as a determining factor in why the wheel was never fully exploited by the indigenous civilizations of the Americas - since really, even if they did have a wheel, there weren't any animals to pull it anywhere.   The Incas, however, did successfully utilize the llama as a pack animals, which is small-hoofed and agile on the uneven, stepped roads that wind throughout the Andes where horses would have been practically worthless.   Otherwise if you wanted something hauled somewhere in the Americas, you pretty much had to haul it there yourself.


Speaking of hauling things yourself - and returning now to the ongoing subject of the Journals of Lewis and Clark - one really has to wonder how the two explorers and their extended party arranged to keep themselves fed over the course of a two year journey.  Their plan, as it turned out, was two-fold: to hunt and to trade, and the expedition packed quite heavily with guns and ammunition for the former and Indian-popular trade goods for the latter.  And as such the group set out into the great unknown, laden with these initial supplies and - what particularly thrills and/or gives me anxiety at the thought of - basically in loose reliance on whatever the landscape, the natives, and fate would furnish for them.  And let me tell you this: they ate it ALL...

When Lewis' and Clark's Corps of Discovery first started off the living was good.  The plains fairly teemed with rich and tasty beasts like buffalo - not too far a cry from beef, really - and the caravan was well-stocked with flour, salt, and spices for its artful preparation for table. They also brought a supply of booze to wash it all down with.  But as the landscape changed, so did the travelers' diet, and I soon learned that the expedition basically ate whatever they could get their hands on - which most often was whatever was convenient to kill.  Sacagawea was adept at foraging for native plants and roots to supplement their diet, but their mainstay staple consisted of the fresh kill, and with minimal discrimination at that.  Once the group had passed the great herds of buffalo, there was still venison to be found.  When they started to cross through territory particularly infested with very aggressive Grizzly bears, guess what they started eating.  I have no idea how that must have taste, but for once I'm guessing it wasn't like chicken.

The landscape east of the Rockies was bountiful and meaty, but when the expedition started across the difficult mountainscapes, its offerings changed.  There was still the occasional deer to be had, but in scarcer measure.  At times there was absolutely nothing for days, and the expedition, who had procured pack horses from the Shoshone after leaving behind the rivers, began to rely on horse meat as their main food source.  And once they got west of the Rockies, things really changed for them remarkably...

Salmon was a great mainstay for both the economy and the table of the Pacific Northwest Indians, among whom Lewis and Clark traveled.  Indigenous "flathead" tribes occupied the river banks where the fish swam in great plenitude, though seasonally, and the natives had a means of beating and preserving the salmon into a form that could be used for trade with other tribes for other commodities.  Besides salmon, their diet also included the smaller, smelt-like euchalon, or candlefish (that I wrote of in the earlier post Another horrible idea in home decorating), as well as foragable plants and roots, such as the quamash, from which they made a sort of bread.  This fare is what the expedition now began to eat, and the abrupt change from an almost entirely meat-based diet to one of fish and starches was acutely upsetting to their digestive systems; there was lots of illness reported as a (not necessarily immediately recognized) consequence. 

Flathead Chinook with the mighty salmon, from George Catlin, 1861.  Note the baby on her back, with its little head tucked into the flattening device...

The preserved fish was often an iffy proposition to the travelers, and some horse meat dining continued.  But another type of animal would soon enter their culinary repertoire: the dog.  Writes William Clark during his stay among the Choppunish - or Nez Perces - dated October 10th, 1805:

a miss understanding took place between Sharbono one of our interpreters and Jo & R Fields which appears to have originated in just [jest].  our diet extremely bad haveing nothing but roots and dried fish to eate,    all the Party have greatly the advantage of me, in as much as they all relish the flesh of dogs, Several of which we purchased of the nativs for to add to our store of fish and roots &c. &c.

And though Clark personally is no fan of dog meat, it becomes quite popular among the rest of the expedition.   And anyway, as we see from his entry on October 18, 1805, sometimes it really was the best one could do, especially when one's trading partners didn't have the most consistent integrity: 

The fish being very bad those which was offerd to us we had every reason to believe was taken up on the shore dead we thought proper not to purchase any,   we purchased forty dogs for which we gave articles of little value, such as beeds, bells & thimbles, of which they appeared very fond,    at 4 oClock we set out down the Great Columbia accompanied by our two old Chiefs,  one young man wished to accompany us, but we had no room for more & he could be of no service to us.

Well, William Clark may not care for the dog meat, but Meriwether Lewis and the rest of the gang can't seem to get enough of the stuff, as one can readily read in his journal entry from April 13, 1806:

I also purchased four paddles and three dogs from them with deerskins. the dog now constitutes a considerable part of our subsistence and with most of the party has become a favorite food; certain I am that it is a healthy strong diet, and from habit it has become by no means disagreeable to me, I prefer it to lean venison or Elk, and it is very superior to the horse in any state.

Buffet?  George Stubbs' Bay Horse and White Dog, circa early 1800s.  (Really, though there is a plethora of images of dog meat online - usually served Asian-style - I really must allow us to use our imaginations for at least the purpose of this post...)

As the expedition made its way westward and into winter, their diet eventually expanded to include regionally available game such as Elk, though the salmon on which so much of the region harvested disappeared from the rivers until springtime.  The group made their winter camp close to the Pacific coast - at Fort Clatsop, so named for the Indians living nearby.   And although they had succeeded in achieving their lofty goal of making it to the ocean, the road home was now too treacherous and a return journey would not be feasible until the mountain snows melted.

As the party built their fort close to the Pacific, they hoped that their stay would coincide with a visit from a trading ship so they might replenish their stock of supplies.  Thomas Jefferson had furnished them with letters of credit expressly for this opportunity, though some historians have questioned why he didn't send a U.S. ship himself to meet the party.  Unfortunately a ship never stopped during their stay and they were obliged to make do.  They were long out of liquor, and the otherwise sparseness of the larder, coupled with the excessive rains of the Pacific Northwest, made for a holiday season far less merry than hoped.  Writes Clark on their Christmas dinner of 1805:

we would have Spent this day the nativity of Christ in feasting, had we any thing either to raise our Sperits or even gratify our appetites, our Dinner concisted of pore Elk, so much Spoiled that we eate it thro' mear necessity, Some Spoiled pounded fish and a fiew roots. 

And no horse meat was available to supplement their dinner, either.  Having traversed the Rockies and again been able to return to river travel, all the horses had been left in the care of a local tribe pending the expedition's return on their journey home to the east.  I get pissy when we don't have the right kind of Christmas ham - I can only imagine how spoiled elk must have gone over...

But bleak as Christmas dinner was, Lewis' and Clark's culinary fortunes were about to change again with the introduction of a new delicacy: whale blubber.  Clark records the introduction of the blubber in his journal entry of January 3, 1806 ( and also takes a moment to note that his comrades' fondness for eating dog continues into the new year unabated):

At 11 A. M. we were visited by our near neighbour Chief or tid Co mo wool ... and six Clatsops.   they brought for Sale Some roots berries and 3 Dogs also a Small quantity of fresh blubber.   this blubber they informed us they had obtained from their neighbours the Cal la mox who inhabit the coast to the S.E.  near one of their Villages a Whale had recently perished.  this blubber the Indians eat and esteem it excellent food.  our party from necessity have been obliged to Subsist some length of time on dogs have now become extremely fond of their flesh; it is worthey of remark that while we lived principally on the flesh of this animal we were much more healthy strong and more fleshey then we have been Sence we left the Buffalow Country.  as for my own part I have not become reconsiled to the taste of this animal as yet.

Although their winter at Fort Clatsop afforded neither bounty nor luxury in terms of diet - and indeed, as we have seen from my previous essay, a greater part of the expedition did succeed in contracting venereal disease from the indigenous population, the most salient features of whom were their artificially flattened heads and odd tattoos  -  Lewis' and Clark's time by the sea did afford them a welcome opportunity to restore their salt supply.  And really, if you thought eating dog stew sucked, try the low-salt version of it.

Meriwether Lewis - always the more prolific and lyrical writer on the duo - takes a moment in the sedentary winter to reflect upon their diet in this extended passage dated January 5, 1806, including the nature of whale blubber and how it stacks up against in a taste comparison against dog meat.  He also addressed the party's want of salt, want of bread, and ultimately on his own increasingly omnivorous disregard for the species of his dinner:

At 5 P.M. Willard and Wiser returned,   they had not been lost as we apprehended.  they informed us that it was not until the fifth day after leaving the Fort that they could find a convenient place for making salt;  that they had at length established themselves on the coast about 15 Miles S.W. from this, near the lodge of some Killamuck families; that the Indians were very friendly and had given them a considerable quantity of the blubber of a whale which perished on the coast some distance S.E. of them; part of this blubber they brought with them, it was white & not unlike the fat of Poork, tho' the texture was more spongey and somewhat coarser.  I had a part of it cooked and found it very pallitable and tender,  it resembled the beaver or the dog in flavor.  it may appear somewhat extraordinary tho' it is a fact that the flesh of the beaver and dog possess a very great affinity in point of flavour.

These lads also informed us that J. Fields, Bratten and Gibson (the Salt Makers) had with their assistance erected a comfortable camp killed an Elk and several deer and secured a good stock of meat;  they commenced the making of salt and found that they could obtain from 3 quarts to a gallon a day; they brought with them a specemine of the salt of about a gallon, we found it excellent, fine, strong, & white;  this was a great treat to myself and most of the party, having not had any since the 20th Ultmo.; I say most of the party, for my friend Capt. Clark declares it to be a mear matter of indifference with him whether he uses it or not;  for myself I must confess I felt a considerable inconvenience from the want of it; the want of bread I consider as trivial provided, I get fat meat, for as the species of meat I am not very particular, the flesh of the dog the horse the wolf, having from habit become equally fomiliar with any other, and I have learned to think that if the chord be sufficiently strong, which binds the soul and boddy together, it does not so much matter about the materials which compose it.  Capt. Clark determined this evening to set out early tomorrow with two canoes and 12 men in quest of the whale, or at all events to purchase from the Indians a parcel of the blubber,   for this purpose he prepared a small assortment of merchandize to take with him.

Interesting or what?  So apparently dog does not taste like chicken.  It tastes like beaver.  I wonder how that stacks up against bear?

Well, here I will take a moment to clarify that it would be quite faulty to assume that every American Indian tribe was eating dog regularly.  The reality is that many found the practice just as taboo as you and I.  Another reality is that plenty of other, unexpected cultures (and here I am talking Switzerland, for starters) have also had their episodes with the canine cuisine, as a visit to Wikipedia will reveal. A lot of what the human diet comes down to is availability and convenience - and that, as I learned in an Intro to Sociology or Anthropology or Something-ology class many years ago - it has been shown that universally human communities exploit the foodstuffs that offer the highest nutrient and calorie yield to the lowest amount of effort required in its harvest.  It brings to mind very literally the expression, the juice ain't worth the squeeze.  This is to say that we are surrounded with the edible-yet-inconvenient and of such do not bother to partake.  Maybe it's also to say that sometimes dogs taste better than berries, unless there's a fat, juicy buffalo out back...

Apparently as the expedition made its way homeward with its newly adopted appetite for the dog, some of the tribes they encountered - while often accommodating in the commercial sense -were not entirely impressed in the cultural sense.  Write Clark on May 5th, 1806:

while at dinner an indian fellow very impertinently threw a half starved puppy into the plate of Capt. Lewis by way of derision for our eating dogs and laughed very hartily at his own impertinence;  Capt. L. -- was so provoked at the insolence that he cought the puppy and threw it with great violence at him and struck him in the breast and face, seazed his tomahawk, and shewed him by sign that if he repeated his insolence that he would tomahawk him,  the fellow withdrew apparently mortified and we continued our Dinner without further molestation.

Well, apparently the expedition itself wasn't entirely impressed with their new custom, either.  Given the calibre of Lewis' reaction and overall humorlessness in the matter, clearly the Indian man's ribbing touched an unexpectedly and acutely raw nerve.  I am guessing all members of the party quit the habit upon their return to "civilization" back east.

Meanwhile in 1805: Portrait of an Extraordinary Musical Dog by Philip Reinagle - from the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts collection

On an amusing closing note I'll say that as I sat one afternoon in my usual coffeehouse (engrossed with this draft on my laptop), I hardly noticed a man shuffling from table to table with a little Pit-Lab mix in his hands.  Not, anyway, until he thrust the dog in my face and bluntly offered: "Puppy?"  I confess I really had to do a double-take before I realized he was trying to find the dog a new home.  Otherwise I found myself on the verge of polite excuse: "Oh no, thanks. I had a heavy lunch..."

- a.t.s

Always makin' friends. Or, tell it to the hand...

I probably embrace the excitement of knowing I've stepped out of my personal comfort zone - and lived to tell the tale -  more than the actual act of stepping out of it to begin with, or at least the anticipatory anxiety that often precedes such a move.   So the thought of bidding farewell to all that is known and trekking thousands of miles deep into essentially unknown territory, to meet equally unknown and radically different peoples, strange animals, and who knows what else is both thrilling in the abstract and, of course, terrifying in the logistical particulars.  It's because I am, despite my best intentions, a  what-iffer:  What if we run out of food?  What if we become lost?  What if we run afoul of a grizzly bear?  What if the natives don't like us?  What if we get scalped?!  I guess it's fair to assume that had I had charge of the Lewis' and Clark's expedition of 1804, we'd still all be east of the Mighty Mississippi...

Although Lewis and Clark included on their journey interpreters like Touissant & Sacagawea Charbonneau, their command of the indigenous languages was limited mostly to that of the tribes along the Missouri river and, west of that, the Shoshone tribes from which Sacagawea hailed.  That left a lot of territory to cross without the assist of a common spoken language and - the Native Americans of the day being pre-literate - of course no written language whatsoever.  Pretty anxiety producing when you consider the expedition departed in full expectation of a future reliant on distant, as-yet-unknown natives for food, horses, and navigation, if you ask me.

So something really interesting to be discovered in reading the The Journals of Lewis and Clark is that evidently, although this great land of America was originally inhabited by hundreds of indigenous tribes each speaking its own tongue or dialect thereof, chaos did not actually reign: the Indians had a sort of lingua franca of their own, and that was sign language.

As the expedition moved westward, approaching the Continental Divide,  Lewis writes in his journal for Wednesday, August 14th, 1805:

"The means I had of commicating with these people was by way of Drewyer who understood perfectly the common language of jesticulation or signs which seems to be universally understood by all the Nations we have yet seen.  it is true that this language is imperfect and liable to error but is much less so than would be expected.   the strong parts of the ideas are seldom mistaken."

Well, a big relief for Lewis and Clark, I should think.  (And speaking of communications, notice how Lewis' writing style is closer to modern usage than that of his contemporary, Clark.  Lewis is definitely the easier to read, and the more prolific of the two, though both bring something different and worthwhile to the journals.)

In August of 1805, Lewis and Clark were anxious to forge relations with the indigenous tribes - especially as securing horses for portage across the mountains was essential to the expedition's success and those horses were going to come from the Indians.  Here's an interesting narrative from August 11th that touches on the use of signs - or failing that, bribes - in making friends and influencing people (or otherwise, letting 'em know you're "white, uptight and outta sight"!).  It should be noted that at this point in their journey the group is dressed almost entirely in animal skins and moccasins, a bi-product of their hunt-as-you-go lifestyle and far more durable for the rigours of crossing the wild.  Lewis is afraid they'll be ignored as just another party of natives...

"I was overjoyed at the sight of this stranger and had no doubt of obtaining a friendly introduction to his nation provided I could get near enough to him to convince him of our being whitemen.  I therefore proceeded towards him at my usual pace.  when I had arrived within a mile he made a halt which I did also and unloosing my blanket from my pack, I made  him the signal of friendship known to the Indians of the Rocky mountains and those of the Missouri, which is by holding the mantle of robe in your hands at two corners and then throwing [it] up in the air higher than the head bringing it to the earth as if in the act of spreading it. thus repeating three times.  this signal of the robe has arrisen from a custom among all those nations of spreading a robe or skin for ther gests to set on when they are visited.  this signal had not the desired effect, he still kept his position and seemed to view Drewyer an[d] Sheilds who were now coming in sight on either hand with an air of suspicion.   I would willingly have made them halt but they were too far distant to hear me and I feared to make any signal to them least it should increase the suspicion in the mind of the Indian in our having some unfriendly design upon him.  I therefore hastened to take out of my sack some b[e]ads a looking glas and a few trinkets which I had brought with me for this purpose and leaving my gun and pouch with McNeal advanced unarmed towards him.  he remained in the same stedfast poisture until I arrived 200 paces of him when he turn[ed] his ho[r]se about and began to move off slowly from me;  I now called to him in as loud a voice as I could command repeating the word tab-ba-bone, which in their language signifiyes white-man.  but lo[o]king over his shoulder he still kept his eye on  Drewyer and Sheilds who wer still advancing neither of them haveing sagacity enough to recollect the impropriety of advancing when they saw me thus in parlay with the Indian."

Unfortunately for Lewis, as the narrative progresses, apparently the lure of trinkets and the company of the great tab-ba-bone is simply not enough to keep a no doubt fairly freaked-out Indian from getting spooked by the group of armed men approaching him.  He gallops away on his horse.  Writes Lewis later, "I now felt quite as much mortification and disappointment as I had pleasure and expectation at the first sight of this indian.  I fe[l]t soarly chagrined at the conduct of the men particularly Sheilds to whom I principally attributed this failure in obtaining an introduction to the natives."  Chin up, Lewis: An adventurous guy like you is sure to make friends!

1970's childrens' television surprisingly not factually complete, poetic license suspected...

 

 

Chances are, if you were a babe of the Seventies like me, your first introduction to Lewis & Clark came from the Saturday morning School House Rock cartoon, "Elbow Room" - one of a series of now classic musical cartoons that sought to educate young viewers on, among other things, the history, mechanics, and ethos of this great nation of ours.  And as the lyrics go:

Lewis and Clark volunteered to go,
Goodbye, good luck, wear your overcoat!
They prepared for good times and for bad (and for bad),
They hired Sacagawea to be their guide.
She led them all across the countryside...

And so I think like most kids of the era, my lasting image of Lewis & Clark was destined to be ingrained as essentially a three-person exposition, with Sacagawea leading the way in a compact canoe.  But I must report that in reading the explorer's journals, it soon becomes apparent this is not an entirely accurate picture...

The expedition was also known in its time as The Corps of Discovery.  Frankly it's a title that I rather admire. Talk about a fitting title for some Seventies educational children's television; not entirely out of place in a line up with The Electric Company and Zoom, I should think.  And Lewis' and Clark's group numbered not just themselves and the Native American woman Sacagawea - as one might think from the cartoon - but actually comprised a somewhat perpetually morphing party that also included the enlistment of some 28 military men, two interpreters, and Clarks' black manservant (or slave), known as York.  Additionally the caravan also episodically accompanied by native guides and escorts along the trail.  Add to that the boats, the weapons, the supplies, and a very large quantity of tradegoods brought along to exchange with the Indians and you have, really, a awful lot of people trekking along with an equally daunting amount of baggage.  

Furthermore, the group traveled initially with seven more soldiers who accomanied them as far as Fort Mandan - now in present day North Dakota - where they spent their first winter among the Mandan Indians there on the upper Missouri river.  Interestingly, when these soldiers parted with the expedition and returned to "civilization" loaded with reports and specimens, they'd been told another attachment would eventually follow.  But Lewis and Clark later decided against sparing any more manpower, and so when no further detachment arrived back East, the expedition was actually and for years suspected lost!

Additionally there was also a group of nine or so men, identified by scholars as "St. Louis Boatman," who helped escort the initially water-bound venture up the Missouri river.  It should be noted that one of the foremost hopes of the expedition was to find a water route that would easily connect the Pacific to the young republic and therefore facilitate the importation of goods from China and the Pacific Rim. (See, even then we were crazy for Chinese exports, though of course back then we were wanting things we couldn't get domestically, not farming off all our own manufacturing to improve a corporation's bottom line).  The ideal was a connecting water route linking the Columbia with the Missouri, and failing that, a predominantly water-based route punctuated with manageably short episodes of land porterage. Of course, the unanticipated magnitude of the Rockies dashed those hopes all to hell...

So it is quite evident that a group that for some time numbered up to sixty does not a ménage à trois  in a canoe make.  But I gather a more exhaustive roll call of participants would make for a fairly tedious Saturday morning cartoon.  Though aside from the simplification, the cartoon - which inarguably reflects what I would call the Bicentennial-consciousness of the 1970s (believe me, it was there - the entire world turned red, white, and blue for a year) - also reflects the Feminist interests of the decade: specifically in the enahanced stature and role attributed to Sacagawea in a story that in decades previous might likely have starred but two very noble white men.  But from reading the journals, I can also report that, while tough-stuff and an undeniable asset to the expedition, Sacagawea actually did not do much in terms of guiding the party as the cartoon reports. Shocking! 

Sacagawea was more than just the face on an inconvenient, highly unpopular piece of currency. 

Sacagawea was born a Shoshone, or Snake Indian, in the area of what is now known as Idaho, around 1788.  As a child she was taken captive and brought to North Dakota by the warring Hidatsa tribe, or - as they are referenced in the journals - the Minnetarees.  Around the age of thirteen she was taken as a wife by the French Canadian Touissant Charbonneau, a Quebec-born explorer and trapper who also served The Corps of Discovery as an interpreter.  Many French Canadians had penetrated the lands of the Northern Plains, establishing trade for animal pelts of which, to the European, the North American continent was unfathomably rich.  Sacagawea was brought along too for her knowledge of the Shoshone tongue, which Lewis and Clark acurately predicted would be beneficial for the success of the mission.  

Sacagawea proved a capable interpreter and was very adept at foraging for edible indigenous plants and roots.  It should also be noted that during the long trek she gave birth to her son, Jean Baptiste Charbonneau, and trekked him to the Pacific and home slung on her back.  But it is interesting that much of her value to the expedition came not from fulfilling any role one might at the time more commonly ascribed to a man, but actually from simply being herself: a woman and a Native American. And here I speak particularly of those fragile moments, in the terra incognita of the Rockies and beyond, when the increasingly ragged band of travelers came into contact with native tribes who had never encountered a white man before, much less a pack of them...

Clark writes on October 19, 1805 (and here I will note that the usage, spelling, and punctuation is his own), of encountering a small settlement of natives in what I think is a pretty fascinating passage that illustrates Sacagawea's diplomatic cachet.  Warning: Unexpected encounters with heretofore unknown races are known to induce panic attacks...

"I deturmined to take the little canoe which was with me and proceed with the three men in it to Lodges,  on my approach not one person was to be seen except three men off in the plains, and they sheared off as I saw approached near the Shore,    I landed in front of five Lodges which was at no great distance from each other, Saw no person   the enterance or Dores of the Lodges wer Shut with the Same materials of which they were built a Mat,  I approached one with a pipe in my hand entered a lodge which was the nearest to me   found 32 persons men, women, and a few children Setting permiscuisly in the Lodge, in the greatest agutation,  Some crying and ringing their hands, others hanging their heads.  I gave my hand to them and made Signs of my friendly disposition and offered the men my pipe to Smok and distributed a few small articles which I had in my pockets,  this measure passified those distressed people verry much,   I then sent one man into each lodge and entered a Second myself the inhabitants the of which I found more fritened than those of the first lodge     I destributed Sundrey small articles amongst them, and Smoked with the men,    I then Set my self on a rock and made signs to the men to come and Smoke with me    not one come out untill the canoes arrived with the 2 chiefs, one of whome spoke aloud, and as was their custome to all we had passed. the Indians came out & Set by me and smoked   They said we came from the clouds &c. &c. and were not men &c. this time Capt. Lewis came down with the canoes in which the Indians were, as Soon as they Saw the Squar [Squaw] wife of the interpreter they pointed to her and informed those who continued yet in the Same position I first found them, they imediately all came out and appeared to assume new life, the sight of This Indian woman, wife to one of our interprs. confirmed those people of our friendly intentions, as no woman ever accompanies a war party of Indians in this quarter..."

So Sacagawea's very presence as not just another Native American but also a woman as well was a currency in itself.  And it should be noted as well that York's presence - as the first black man to explore these territories, and thus the first black man the natives had seen - proved a terrific fascination with the Indians as well.

The literary record Lewis and Clark leave behind illustrates the assertiveness of Sacagawea.  When the party has finally made its way along the Columbia river near the Pacific, the subject of a carcass of a recently beached great whale arises, the bodies of which often exceed one hundred feet in length, and the native Chinnooks are in the process of harvesting their windfall of its blubber.  Meriwether Lewis writes, in his journal entry for Monday, January 6th, 1806: 

"Capt Clark set out after an early breakfast with the party in two canoes as had been contracted the last evening;  Charbono and his Indian woman were also of the party; the Indian woman was very importunate to be permitted to go, and was therefore indulged; she observed that she had traveled a long way with us to see the great waters, and that now that monstrous fish was also to be seen, she thought it very hard she could not be permitted to see either (she had never yet been to the Ocean)."

Well, one can hardly blame her.  We were curious then as we are curious now.