General George Armstrong Custer was, and still is, one of the most controversial military leaders in the history of our country. More than a hundred years after his death his ability to lead his troops, his military skill and personal judgment are still subjects which spark heated debates. But this famous golden haired boy general had another side to him that has been long overshadowed by his famous demise, that of a devoted and loving dog owner.
General Custer rose to the forefront of public adoration in the Civil War with daring saber charges and outstanding military achievements. Many believed he was undefeatable because 12 horses were shot from under him and yet he received only minor injuries during the war. [i] That reputation continued as he became known as a skilled Indian fighter on the plains, until his death June 25, 1876 near the Little Big Horn River in Southwestern Montana.
Following the Civil War the Custers were stationed throughout the expanding Western frontier in the wide open spaces of Texas, Kansas and the Dakotas. The Custers began collecting dogs after the Civil War, and by the time they arrived in the Dakotas there were around 80 dogs in their pack. [ii] The General and his wife, Libby, speak fondly in their writings of the many dogs that shared their lives during these years.
Libby, due to her books recalling her years on the plains with her famous husband, has remained prominent in the pages of history. However, the Custer canines are almost invisible props in this famous story and are slowly fading unnoticed from the pages of history into the chasms of museum storage rooms. [iii]
Although there is mention of dogs in General Custer’s pre-military years, one of the earliest references to a specific dog he owned is of Byron, his English Greyhound, whom he was given while in Texas. Scottish Staghounds were his primary breed by the time the Custers came to the Dakotas. These large, athletic hounds known today as Scottish Deerhounds, could catch and bring down deer and antelope in their powerful jaws. Other dogs the Custers mention in their writings include a bulldog, Turk, a pointer, Ginnie, a setter and numerous foxhounds.
Milo Milton Quaife, in his historical introduction to Custer’s own recollection of his early days fighting Indians, My Life on the Plains, describes him as an adolescent boy who never grew up. This youthful approach to life and lack of discipline took the young general, referred to hereafter as “The General”, on many escapades while on the plains. Many of the stories about the dogs who accompany him paint a picture of a boy and his dogs and the timeless bond of shared adventures. These exploratory outings often drew the young, and often impulsive, General and his faithful canine companions astray into many adventures the vast plains.
The first of the Custer dogs were given to them while stationed in Texas in 1865. The General was intrigued by the packs of hounds used for hunting by the Texas planters, and due to this interest, these planters gave him some of their dogs.
He soon had enough dogs for his own pack, and The General organized a hunt with men from his unit. This hunt ended tragically for one of the dogs when his brother, Tom Custer, accidentally shot one of the hounds that was helping flush deer from the brush. [iv] This was the first of many untimely deaths for the canines belonging to Custers.
According to their own accounts, the Custers’ had five dogs [v] while camped near Hempstead, Texas. But that was just the start and the pack continued to increase while they were in Texas. Later that summer Libby described the growing pack in a letter home:
I forgot to tell you that our nine dogs sleep round our wagon at night, quarreling, growling, snoring, but I sleep too soundly to be kept awake by them. [vi]
After moving to Austin, Texas, in November, the still expanding pack numbered twenty-three dogs. [vii] Ginnie, the pointer, was Libby’s favorite dog at this time. While they were staying in the former blind asylum near Austin this pointer had a litter of puppies. When one of these puppies became ill, a softer side of the General is revealed through their colored maid Eliza’s reminiscence of the scene:
“And we both remembers, when one of these little puppies of our beloved Ginnie was ill, how he walked the floor half the night, holding, rubbing, trying to soothe the suffering little beast. And in spite of his medical treatment-for he kept the dog-book on his desk, and ransacked it for remedies-and notwithstanding the anointing and the coddling, two died.” [viii]
When the General’s military commission expired on January 31, 1866, the Custers returned to Michigan. Of this departure Libby wrote:
“We had very little to do in preparation, as our camp outfit was about all our earthly possessions at the time. It was a trial to part with the elderly dogs, which were hardly worth the experiment of transporting to the North, especially as we had no reason to suppose we should see another deer, except in zoological gardens. The hounds fell into good and appreciative hands, being given either to the planter who had presented them or to the officers of the regular regiment that had just been stationed in Texas for a five-years’ detail.” [ix]
They did take Byron, the greyhound, several foxhounds, [x] and the pointer, Ginnie, [xi] with them to Michigan. While there the Custers added to their pack and when they left for Fort Riley, Kansas, the Custer pack also included what Libby described as the “the ugliest white bull-dog I ever saw.” [xii] There is also mention of a setter [xiii] but it is unclear when this animal joined the Custer household.
With dogs and horses in tow, the Custer entourage headed west to Ft. Riley, Kansas late that summer of 1866. Once there Libby said, “We derived great pleasure from our dogs and horses during the autumn.” [xiv] She goes on to describe the fun they had riding across the great open expanses of prairie and how the dogs enjoyed coming along:
“The dogs would be aroused from the deepest sleep at the very sight of our riding costumes, and by the time we were well into them and whip in hand, they leaped and sprang about the room, tore out on the gallery, and tumbled over one another and the furniture in racing back, and such a din of barking and joyful whining as the set up-the noisier the better for my husband.” [xv]
Spring of 1867 brought the Hancock campaign against the Indians. The General took a number of his dogs with him on this campaign and described their companionship in his letters to Libby:
Chapman’s Creek, March 27, 1867: “Four of the dogs, fatigued by the first day’s march, are snoring round the fire; they had to begin their campaigning by swimming the creek. The dogs do splendidly. The old hound Rover took his place alongside the table at dinner, as naturally as if he had been accustomed to it all his life.”
Abilene Creek, March 28, 1867: “All of the camp are asleep, and I am alone-no, not alone, for casting your eyes to the side of the tent, you behold three sleepers, weary and travelworn, as their snoring and heavy breathing betoken. They are stretched calmly upon the lowly couch of your humble correspondent. Near them, and on the tent fly used to wrap my bedding, are the two other sleepers, evidently overcome by fatigue.” (He goes on and names these dogs as Rover, Lu, Sharp, Rattler and Fanny)
In a letter dated March 29, 1867 Custer reveals that one of the dogs is a foxhound when he refers to Rover having the “stick-to-it-iveness of a fox-hound when once on a trial” in describing the days hunt. This is probably one of the fox-hounds he brought with him from Texas.
Saline, March 30, 1867: “The dogs are not the slightest trouble, following me through trains, troops and everywhere, and the moment I get off my horse are all around me. They are great company for me.” [xvi]
Great companions they may have been to the General, but the dogs left behind with Libby and Eliza at Ft. Riley were providing the two women with a degree of protection. In a letter to the General during this campaign Libby, who was discussing some of Eliza’s gentleman callers, said:
“One of them, speaking of our bull-dog Turk, said he had heard that he was ‘a awful ferocious dog.’ Eliza quickly assured him that it was true; he would take ahold of any one who came near him. She never mentioned that Turk’s teeth are so blunted by constant biting at his rope or chain that he is not in the least dangerous.” [xvii]
The General’s primary reason for keeping the hounds while on the plains was to pursue game with them. This type of hunting is known as coursing. The sport of coursing is one of the oldest hunting sports dating back to medieval times [xviii] and had become popular in the 1880’s among military officers stationed on the Great Plains. [xix] The General was not the first military officer to partake in the sport, but due to his extraordinary horsemanship he embraced it with an intensity few could match.
One of the General’s earliest coursing adventures on the plains occurred during this first march of 1867 and resulted in unfortunate deaths for two of his companions.
“I had several fine English greyhounds, whose speed I was anxious to test with that of the antelope, said to be– which I believe–the fleetest of animals. I was mounted on a fine large thoroughbred horse. Taking with me but one man, the chief bugler, and calling my dogs around me, I galloped ahead of the column as soon as it was daylight, for the purpose of having a chase after some antelope which could be seen grazing nearly two miles distant.” [xx]
He goes on and describes the dogs’ chase of the antelope and how the hounds split and took after several. He said that the pup Ratler(sic) disappeared during this chase. He said the other dogs returned but:
“Ratler never joined me, and never will, as I suppose some wolf has killed him ere this. I regret his loss extremely, as this is the first time he has ever joined in the chase and followed the trail himself, and he did very well. But his loss was neither the last nor the greatest misfortune to befall me that day.” [xxi]
Shortly after stopping the antelope hunt, the General discovered he was alone because the bugler had fallen behind. This is when he caught sight of his first buffalo.
“How far I had travelled from the troops I was trying to determine, when I discovered a large, dark-looking animal grazing nearly a mile distant. As yet I had never seen a wild buffalo, but I at once recognized this as not only a buffalo, but a very large one. [xxii]
The General pursued this buffalo for several miles and with the help of dogs, Lu and Sharp, he was soon close enough to take a shot at it. In a letter to Libby later he describes the buffalo’s attempts to evade his shot and how he struggled to pull the trigger while the horse, Custis Lee, veered away from the buffalo. He said:
“I drew my pistol, intending to use both hands in controlling the horse, when, just as my hand was raised to the reins, my finger accidentally and in the excitement of the moment, pressed the trigger and discharged the weapon, the ball entering Lee’s neck near the top of his head and penetrating his brain. Both horse and buffalo had been at full speed. The shot produced instant death.” [xxiii]
The General survived the fall and retrieved his equipment from the dead animal. He had to return on foot to the column several miles off he had left earlier in the day, with the dogs following.
That summer campaign of 1867 took the General on a number of marches across the plains. Desertion by the troops was a constant factor during these months and Custer pushed the men hard and dealt severely with the deserters. But a different side emerged when it came to the welfare of his dogs.
After an incident wherein several deserters were tracked down and returned to camp, wounded, the General allegedly exclaimed for the entire regiment to hear, “Doctor, don’t go near those men. I have no sympathy for them.” Then he loaded his greyhounds into a wagon to protect their feet from prickly pears and started the column, thus showing more concern for the comfort of his dogs than his men. [xxiv]
Charges were filed against the General following this campaign based on an unauthorized visit he made to Libby who was waiting at Ft. Riley and his treatment of the troops. He was court martialed and suspended from rank and command for one year in October of 1867. The Custers spent the winter 1867-68 at Fort Leavenworth before returning to Monroe, Michigan to wait out his one year suspension.
Before the year was over the General was called up to return to his regiment and he left at once, leaving Libby behind in Michigan. He took with him two newly acquired Scottish Staghounds, foxhounds [xxv] and a pointer. [xxvi] The two staghounds were Maida and Blucher.
These dogs accompanied the General when he set across the plains in November, 1868. He eagerly tested their hunting prowess with a buffalo hunt in which he describes the dogs’ efforts as being difficult. He said, “It was a new experience to them; a stag they could easily have mastered, but a lusty young buffalo was an antagonist of different caliber.” [xxvii] The General had to help the dogs finish killing the buffalo.
The General bragged of the staghounds abilities in letters to an unnamed “Eastern friend” whom Libby said had given him these dogs:
“Maida and Blucher both seized the first buffalo they saw while running, which was pretty plucky for pups, I think. The dogs have gone beyond my highest expectations. Three days ago Maida alone ran down a jack-rabbit and killed it, and they are the fleetest animals we have, except the antelope.” [xxviii]
Blucher [xxix] met with an early death during the Battle of the Washita on November 27, 1868. Custer ordered the men to take off their cumbersome overcoats in preparation for battle and leave the coats in piles away from the battle scene, guarded by a few of the troops. After the battle while the cavalry occupied the former Indian village the General said:
“It was when the Indians discovered our overcoats and galloped to their capture that one of my staghounds, Blucher, seeing them riding and yelling as if engaged in the chase, dashed from the village and joined the Indians, who no sooner saw him than they shot him through with an arrow. Several months afterwards I discovered his remains on the ground near where the overcoats had been deposited on that eventful morning.” [xxx]
Libby rejoined the General following the winter campaign of 1868-69 at Ft. Hays, Kansas. The dogs lived with them in Seventh Cavalry’s summer camp in 1869 located on Big Creek about two miles east of Fort Hays, Kansas. It is through the stories of life in the camp that much can be learned of the Custers’ relationship with their dogs and the couple’s admiration for these animals. In a description of life in the camp Libby said:
“The air of Kansas was so pure that we had no difficulty in keeping meat; but our trial was the rapacity of the dogs. They always seemed to be caverns, and at no hour could we eat without being surrounded by a collection of canines of all ages, which turned up their large appealing eyes to us, contesting in this pathetic manner every mouthful we took. In order to save the buffalo-meat from their tremendous leaps, as they were great thieves, it had to be strung far up in a tree, and let down by ropes when the meat for dinner was to be cut off. By violent “shooing,” scolding, and throwing of sticks at the waiting dogs, Eliza cut what was needed, and swung the rest back to its safe height.” [xxxi]
The dogs are also mentioned in Libby’s description of their living quarters in the 1869 summer camp:
“Our own tent opened on the little platform at the rear, and giving as it did a draught through to the front, made us comfortable during the warmest night. The dogs, of course, ran in and out at will; no one ever thought of repressing them. The best we had was not considered good enough for them. We knew them to be faithful and affectionate, and we kept them about us almost constantly. We knew their step, even, and could distinguish ours from the others in the camp.” [xxxii]
The presence of the dogs, however was not to be counted on at night. Faithful as they were, one night the Custers were awaken by the step of a strange “dog” in camp, which turned out to be a large wolf. Of this occurrence Libby wrote: “Our dogs were often off on a predatory excursion of their own, and thus left the way open for strangers.” [xxxiii]
The hunting instinct of these canines knew no bounds and sometimes the prey did more than feed the predatory dogs. Libby describes one occasion when the dogs encountered a “prairie dandy”:
“We were made aware that these animals were around us, for the dogs, in their zeal for game, made no distinction. After a successful chase of the polecat by themselves, they came bounding back to us in a most triumphant manner, sure of a welcome, and prepared to get on the bed, under it, in the camp-chairs, on my lap, anywhere they could be sure was the best and easiest place. Their look was full of surprise and reproach when all their friends started hurriedly to their feet, seized sticks, chairs, anything to hurl at them, shouting wildly, “Get out! get out, you brutes!” while only that morning we had exhausted the vocabulary and coined words to tell them what darlings they were. Of course, followed by every available missile, they beat a retreat, but not for any great distance. Perfectly unconscious why they were not as acceptable at night as in the morning, they sat in a grieving semicircle some distance out in the front of the tent, and reproved us by pitiful inquiring whines, by short interrogatory barks, by wagging tails and sinuous bodies, trying by their expressive motions to argue us out of our hard-heartedness.” [xxxiv]
Although the dogs roamed alone and apparently fed themselves on occasion, the Custers also took care of these treasured pets. Libby describes the feeding of the dogs during this summer camp:
“Our dogs also were especially provided for by us. A huge kettle of mush was boiled with meat, bones, and grease; but they, like the soldiers, preferred what they considered dainties from the family table.” [xxxv]
However, even if the dogs were well fed according to Libby, their hunting instincts often led them into mischief around camp. Libby describes the antics of the dogs on one occasion:
“The commanding officer (the General) was somewhat embarrassed one day when he sat visiting in the quarters of our neighbor, to whom he had sent a quarter of venison a few moments before. There was tremendous scuffle and growling heard in the half-story (or attic) above, where the meat had been hung; and the host going up to see the meaning of the fracas, found nine of our dogs, that had followed their master in, and chased up-stairs when no one was looking, busy eating the venison as fast as their powerful jaws could tear it apart. Of course the hunters could do nothing else than go out next day for another deer to replace the stolen meat.” [xxxvi]
While the Seventh Cavalry was stationed at Fort Hays in the fall of 1870 a twenty-eight year-old private joined A Troop. This was John Burkman who became the General’s aide that cared for the Custer’s horses and dogs. He remained with the Custers in this capacity until the end of the general’s life in 1876. [xxxvii] Of Burkman’s service Libby wrote:
“His horizon included some hounds, a horse or two and a certain fiery, laughing, yellow-haired officer.” [xxxviii]
The Seventh Cavalry left Fort Hays in September of 1871 and was assigned to duty at several locations throughout the Southern states. The Custers were stationed at Elizabethtown, Kentucky. During the time in Kentucky the Custer pack grew and the dogs, according to Burkman, gave him “considerable trouble most of the time.” [xxxix]
The pack grew to such large number because of the general’s inability to part with any of the puppies according to Burkman:
Custer thought it’d be great to breed pedigreed dogs and sell ’em. Wall, he raised ’em. By the time we left Kentuck fur Yankton we masta had ‘roiund ‘bourt eighty. Trouble was when come time to sell ’em. ‘Peared like he never could bear to part with one o’ ’em hounds. Bein’ full-blooded they could’ve made min a lot o’ money, but if a buyer ‘ud come along Custer’d git red in the face and hedge and stall, talkin’ fast, tellin’ a dozen reasons why he couldn’t sell jist then.” [xl]
Burkman was responsible for all aspects of care for the growing pack. While in Kentucky the dogs needed exercise and the following is Burkman’s description of one of his outings with the Custer dogs:
“It was my special duty to exercise ’em every day, me ridin’ my horse, the dogs trottin’ ‘long aside me, chained in twos. They was a purty sight, so slick and slim, eighty of ’em canterin’ along. And they behaved peaceful unless we met another dog. Then all hell couldn’t ‘ve held ’em back. Bleuch in particular, him bein’ a vicious dog.
“Oncst down in Kentuck I passed a man in a buggy with a fine bird dog trottin’ ‘ aside him. Bud, I seen touble ahead and my heart went right up into my mouth. Things begun to happen quick. Sich bayin’ and yelpin’, horses rarin’, dust you couldn’t see through, the fellow cursin’ and swearin’, me tryin’ to hold in the hounds. Might’s well try to hold in a hurricane.
Wall, Bud, when things kinda settled down our hounds was lickin’ their chops and the bird dog was chewed in leetle pieces. I felt sorry. He’d looked purty a minute afore, trottin’ ‘longside the buggy.” [xli]
Libby and Burkman conspired to keep the news of any incidents like this away from the General and Libby would often give away one of the puppies in an effort to replace the people’s lost pet which the dogs had killed. [xlii]
The Seventh Cavalry was ordered to the Dakotas in the Spring of 1873. This trip took its toll on the dogs. While on the train enroute one of the hounds, Lulu, had a litter of nine pups and then she jumped from the train and was not found. [xliii] The day the train left them in the Dakota prairie a blizzard hit. The puppies along with eleven of the older dogs froze to death during the storm. [xliv] Burkman nearly met the same fate, but was saved by one of the dogs who led him to the cabin the Custers were occupying. [xlv]
The six week trip across the treeless Dakota plains was hard on man and beast alike. Of this trip Libby writes:
“The dogs had almost as hard a time to become accustomed to the vagaries of a Dakota climate as we did. We had to be their nurses and surgeons.” [xlvi]
The dogs would get into prickly pear cactus and the thorns would have to be extracted from them. Burkman said they got tired of constantly doing this and fashioned leather mittens for the dogs feet to protect them. [xlvii]
Burkman said the feeding of the dogs was also a problem. Sometimes they would be able to gorge on a kill, he recalled, but went on to say:
“… but they was more days when their ribs caved in and they looked at me with a kinda reproachful lookin their eyes that made me plumb miserable. But they was army dogs and army life means bein’ tired and footsore and thristy and hungry and jist marchin’ on. [xlviii]
The Custers reached Fort Rice located about 25 miles below their future home of Fort Lincoln on June 20, 1873. The wives who had accompanied the march were sent out of the Dakota Territory and the Seventh Cavalry embarked on the Yellowstone Expedition in July. That Fall Custer and Libby moved to Fort Lincoln and spent the winter. The pack of dogs had decreased in size by this time. Libby described them:
“The pack of hounds were an endless source of delight to the general. We had about forty: the stagehounds that run by sight, and are on the whole the fleetest and most enduring dogs in the world, and the foxhounds that follow the trail with their noses close to the ground. The first rarely bark, but the latter are very noisy.” [xlix]
Custer left on the Black Hills expedition in July of 1874. He took several of the dogs with him [l] , but most of them remained with Libby at Fort Lincoln. The summer was hot along the Missouri River and Libby describes one of the trials of living that summer at the Fort:
With the hot weather the mosquito war began-Fort Lincoln was celebrated as the worst place in the United States for the pests. [li]
She said the dogs coped with this insect infestation by diggin “deep holes in the side of the hills, where they half smothered in their attempt to escape.” [lii]
However, the summer discomfort of these animals did not stop them from increasing their numbers. She described the scene shortly after the General’s returned that Fall:
“The general had hardly removed his buckskin coat before the old fellow stumbled up the steps and nearly fell in the door, with his arms full of puppies that had arrived during the summer.” [liii]
The next year in the Custers life was spent at Fort Lincoln and Libby said the general considered himself very fortunate. She wrote:
“I have seen my husband with all the abandon of a boy throw himself on a rug in front of the fire and enumerate his blessings with real gratitude. Speaking of his regiment first, his district (He then had five posts under his command), the hunting, his dogs and horses, and his own room, which was an unceasing delight, he used to declare to me that he would not exchange places with anyone-not even a friend in civilian life who stood at the head of his profession as a journalist, who had wealth and youth, and who lived in almost princely luxury.” [liv]
The summer of 1875 brought no campaign and the Custers were able to spend much time together. Libby said that their main exercise “on summer evenings was walking to the outskirts of the garrison surrounded by the dogs.” [lv]
The Custers went on leave that Fall and spent time in the East before returning to the Dakotas. On their return trip a special train they were on became stranded in the snow and Tom Custer managed to rescue them with a sleigh. Three of the dogs accompanied them and when they were taken off the train the dogs were placed in the sleigh to provide warmth for Libby on the remaining portion of the trip. [lvi]
Custer leaves Fort Lincoln for the last time on May 17, 1776. Libby accompanies him the first night but then returns to the Fort. He tried to leave the dogs behind and even said goodbye to them before leaving. Burkman said he realized then just how serious this expedition was. [lvii] However, the next morning while Libby was still with them the hounds came running out. Burkman described the scene:
“Thar was Tuck and Bleuch racin’ to ketch up with the General, their tongues hangin, tails waggin’, tickled to death to see him again, skeered they’d be sent back. They went with him on into the valley of the Little Big Horn.” [lviii]
Burkman said the dogs were good companies for the General on this last campaign. He said he would often be guarding the general’s tent and he would see him inside with the dogs curled up by him while he was thinking. [lix] Burkman was on guard duty outside the general’s tent the night before his death and said the staghound Tuck came out and joined him, like he wanted to help guard:
“Purty soon Tuck seet down on his haunches and stretched up his muzzle and begun to howl. It sounded like the death howl. Maybe it was the sound o’ the tom-toms set him goin’ but I’m substitious as hell, Bud and I didn’t like fur him to do that. I tried to shut him up.” [lx]
Burkman said he wanted to go along that next morning, June 25, 1876, and the general told him his place was with the pack train since he had pulled guard duty three nights in a row. As the troops rode out Burkman said he held the dogs to prevent them from following their master and that was the last time he ever saw the General alive. [lxi]
What happened to the dogs following the death of their famous master is not clear. The controversy over his death and what happened that fateful day occupy most of what is written. Libby said that one of the dogs was given, at her direction, to a friend of her husbands. This dog was named Cardigan and she said:
“…when the poor old dog died, his new master honored him by having his body set up by the taxidermist, and a place was given him in one of the public buildings in Minneapolis.” [lxii]
Burkman dicusses wondering about the fate of the dogs and how he could explain to them what had happened. [lxiii] , but he never expands. For the most part, the tales of the generals dogs stopped that same day, lost in the bitter wash of the shocking defeat of the golden haired boy general on that barren hillside in Eastern Montana overlooking the Little Big Horn River.
[i] . Jay Monaghan, Custer: The Life of General George Armstrong Custer (Boston: Little Brown and Co., 1959) 250.
[ii] . Glendolin Damon Wagner, <i
