The Dogs (and Bears, and Camels) of War

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

As Union and Confederate soldiers left the comforts of home for the grim realities of war, many brought along family pets or adopted stray or wild animals, which quickly took on semi-official roles. Regiments from the North and the South kept dogs, cats, horses, squirrels and raccoons as mascots. Some chose more unusual animals, including bears, badgers, eagles, wildcats, even a camel.

Companions in Battle Slideshow

See photos of some of the pets and adopted animals of the Civil War.

Not only did these mascots provide comfort and entertainment to lonely and bored soldiers in camp and on marches, but they often became companions in battle, suffering alongside their regiments. When Union troops captured Company B of the Second Kentucky Infantry Regiment at the battle of Fort Donelson, Tenn., they also detained the company’s canine mascot, Frank. The men and the dog were imprisoned for six months at Indiana’s Camp Morton until they were exchanged for Union prisoners of war (though there’s no record of whether a captured Union dog went free in exchange for Frank).

Wisconsin Historical SocietyOld Abe stands with the Eighth Wisconsin color guard at Big Black River Bridge, Mississippi, after the fall of Vicksburg in July 1863.

 

Most of these mascots began unofficially, often as the pets of conscripted soldiers, but were readily accepted by officers on both sides. They understood the bond between soldiers and mascots and the extraordinary power these animals had to unite the men. Perhaps the most famous mascot was a bald eagle named Old Abe. Lt. James McGuire of the newly formed Company C of the Eighth Wisconsin Regiment received permission from his commanding officer, Capt. John E. Perkins, to purchase the eagle from a Wisconsin couple who in turn had bought it from a local Native American tribe. The eagle was welcomed by the men, who changed their nickname from the Eau Claire Badgers to the Eau Claire Eagles. As they made their way to Camp Randall in Madison to meet the rest of the Eighth Regiment, Captain Perkins, whose lanky frame and bearded face resembled that of Lincoln, named the new mascot Old Abe in honor of the president.

U.S. Army Military History InstituteA young Old Abe perches on the shield, which carried him into more than 37 battles and skirmishes.

 

The company reached Camp Randall in early September and readied themselves for battle. As the men obtained intensive training in weaponry and various formations, Old Abe was assigned to the color guard and received a new perch that consisted of a shield-shaped plate with a crossbar he could roost on. Decorated with stars and stripes, the plate connected to a five-foot long pole, which was carried by the men into battle.
A month later Old Abe and his regiment boarded a train and began their journey to the front. When they stopped in Chicago, the crowds and the newspapers couldn’t get enough of Old Abe. Priv. John Williams wrote, “The eagle is more important than the [Eau Claire] Eagles.” Despite the fanfare, the regiment pressed on, making its way through St. Louis where Southern sympathizers taunted the men with cries of “Yankee crow!” and “Wild goose!” Agitated by the noise, Old Abe briefly broke free, causing havoc within the ranks as the men chased after him.
Old Abe was almost killed twice. At the Battle of Corinth, in Mississippi, a minie ball cut the leather cord connecting him to his perch. As he flew down the Union lines of the battlefield, Confederates tried to shoot him. Confederate Gen. Sterling Price offered a bounty to his men, adding that he would rather get the eagle than a whole regiment. After someone in the regiment cropped Old Abe’s tail and wing feathers to prevent him from flying away again, his outraged bearer, David McLain, resigned his post. Old Abe’s other near miss occurred during the siege of Vicksburg in 1863 when a Confederate minie ball grazed his neck and chest, taking off the feathers in its path and damaging his left wing.

By the summer of 1864 the men decided that Old Abe had seen enough war. After much discussion of where he should go, the entire regiment voted to give him to the state of Wisconsin. Old Abe became the property of the state and was officially deemed a war relic. Thousands of people came to see him in his new home in the state Capitol; he appeared at fundraising events across the country where he autographed photos of himself by punching a hole in them with his beak. The showman P. T. Barnum offered to buy him for $20,000, but the state turned him down.
When a fire broke out in the Capitol in February 1881, Old Abe inhaled a large amount of smoke, and he died a month later while being held by his caretaker. Veterans throughout Wisconsin volunteered to be pallbearers at his funeral. For years, crowds came to see Old Abe’s preserved body in the rotunda of the Capitol building, but a 1904 fire destroyed his remains.
Old Abe was lucky; indeed, countless mascots lost their lives in the fighting. As smoke cleared at Gettysburg, a small dog thought to be with the First Maryland Regiment limped on three legs through the dead. Union Brigadier General Thomas Kane wrote, “He licked someone’s hand after being perfectly riddled with bullets. Regarding him as the only Christian-minded being on either side, I ordered him to be honorably buried.” Other mascots died while trying to protect their companions. When the Baltimore American reported a scene from the battle of Antietam, it wrote, “Upon one dead body was found a large black dog, dead also from some chance shot which had struck him while stretched upon his master’s corpse caressingly, his fore-paws across the man’s breast.”
Even President Lincoln wasn’t immune to the solace provided by animals during the war. When Mary Todd Lincoln was asked if her husband had a hobby, she replied, “cats.”