Riding camels and ranching rhinos: ‘Wild’ near-misses in Texas history

AMARILLO, Texas (KAMR/KCIT) – The development of the railroad and the establishment of livestock ranching and processing were not only two major factors in the westward expansion of the United States but also in the settlement and growth of Texas.

However, the ecological and economic landscape of the Lone Star State known in the 21st century came close, at multiple points, to having cattle graze the plains alongside the likes of camels, rhinoceros and hippopotamuses. While the idea may seem outlandish, the introduction of those species to Texas and the American West was only side-stepped by a matter of timing and coincidence.

The forgotten “Camel Corps” of Texas and the American West

Those familiar with the vast landscape of Texas may know that the land is varied enough in climate and elevation to be split into several distinct ecological regions, ranging from tropical beach destinations in the southeast to expansive rocky mesas in the northwest.

During the establishment of Texas as a settled territory, the population centers in the central and southeast parts of the state were connected to one another and their neighboring territories like Louisiana through centuries-old routes defined by exploration and economic activity. Defined trails as well as lakes, rivers and dense woodlands lent themselves as resources for developing communities.

However, beyond the 100th meridian , the Texas landscape slopes up in elevation; as it goes uphill and shifts westward there is a steady decrease in greenery and available water until there is mostly red rock, orange desert, or endlessly-reaching yellow grasslands. As explorers, pioneers and settlers worked their way into West Texas and the Texas Panhandle and beyond, they were met with impassable rivers, arid deserts and mountain peaks that stymied travel and drained the resources they had brought with them.

By the 1830s, as described by the Army Historical Foundation, officials such as US Army Lieutenant George Crosman were looking for alternate means of westward travel that could more easily scale mountains and endure harsh weather and a lack of water.

In 1836, Crosman and collaborator E.H. Miller sent a suggestion to officials in Washington they thought could be the key to unlocking the American West, and spurred the idea of one of the more unique experiments in the history of the US Army: Camels.

For strength in carrying burdens, for patient endurance of labor, and privation of food, water & rest, and in some respects speed also, the camel and dromedary (as the Arabian camel is called) are unrivaled among animals.  The ordinary loads for camels are from seven to nine hundred pounds each, and with these they can travel from thirty to forty miles a day, for many days in succession.  They will go without water, and with but little food, for six or eight days, or it is said even longer.  Their feet are alike well suited for traversing grassy or sandy plains, or rough, rocky hills and paths, and they require no shoeing…

US Army Lieutenant George Crosman and E.H. Miller’s 1836 report to the War Department

For Crosman and Miller, the proposal was both simple and reasonable. However, it was disregarded by the War Department and left to the wayside for more than a decade.

Crosman continued his military career despite the rejection of his idea, but found a like-minded ally in Major Henry Wayne of the Quartermaster Department in 1847, and another in then-Senator Jefferson Davis of Mississippi.

Davis became an ardent proponent of the camel idea and made multiple proposals to Congress to use federal funding to import and utilize camels in the Southwest, though he was rebuffed multiple times. As noted by National Geographic, Davis argued that the animals could not only be used for travel but also for military operations, used to hunt down Native American people in the region and assert US control across the continent.

The proposals continued until 1855, after Davis had become Secretary of War, when Congress finally added an amendment to the appropriation bill to purchase and import camels for military purposes. The Army Historical Foundation detailed that a globetrotting expedition began shortly after that collected and delivered 33 camels and dromedaries to Indianola, Texas.

After the camels arrived, Wayne moved the herd to Camp Verde northwest of San Antonio and conducted field tests to prove their mettle in service to the armed forces. The camels proceeded to impress both Wayne and Davis with their ability to transport loads double the size of those taken by mules in half the time.

“These tests fully realize the anticipation entertained of their usefulness in the transportation of military supplies…” said Davis in his annual report for 1857, “Thus far the result is as favorable as the most sanguine could have hoped.”

The next part of the experiment involved getting civilians and soldiers used to caring for and working with the camels, and building their tolerance for the camels’ smell and spit. Though taxing, the efforts appeared to be paying off, and the US increased its total herd size to 70 after another importing expedition.

Both Davis and Wayne were removed from the project after President James Buchanan took office in 1857, but Davis’ successor – John B. Floyd – decided to continue the camel experiment.

During Edward Fitzgerald Beale’s expedition shortly after, intending to survey and build a wagon road along the 35th parallel from Fort Defiance, New Mexico Territory, to the Colorado River on the California-Arizona, Floyd insisted that 25 of the camels be employed for the task. After the time and money spent by the government to test the camels’ abilities, the AHF noted that Floyd was determined to see an example of the herd put to real use.

Although Beale initially “protested vehemently” against the camels, according to the AHF, he was convinced by the second week of the journey that the camels proved to be a great success. Not only did Beale report in the summer of 1857 that the camels had been able to carry their loads without issue, but were also docile and patient despite the harsh terrain and long journey.

“At this time there is not a man in camp who is not delighted with them,” said Beale in one August 1857 report.

Later, Beale also wrote of the expedition that, “without the aid of this noble and useful brute, many hardships which we have been spared would have fallen to our lot.”

After the four-month and 1,200-mile expedition, Beale refused to send the camels back to Texas and instead moved them to the ranch of his business partner in the lower San Joaquin Valley to be used for Beale’s personal business. During that time, the AHF noted that the camels were used during an encounter with “a large band of Mohave Indians,” which turned out to be the only combat action the camels would ever see; it wasn’t even performed by the US Army, but instead civilians.

Beale used more camels on an 1858 expedition and once again reported their great success, leading Floyd to enthusiastically propose to Congress that the US purchase “a full supply” of the animals for the use of the US.

However, despite the evidence and exemplary reports, Congress authorized no further funding for purchasing camels. While Floyd proposed the idea again in 1860, at that time Congress was fully occupied with the looming clouds of the Civil War. As noted by Arizona State Historian Marshall Trimble, another factor in the halting of the abandonment of the camel project was the prospective political costs at the hands of the mule lobby.

“The mule lobby did not want to see the importation of more camels, for obvious reasons,” said Trimble, as quoted by the Smithsonian , “They lobbied hard, in Washington, against the camel experiment.”

After a few more Army experiments, including one in which the survivors of an attempted survey that got lost in the Mojave Desert were led to safety by the camels, the advent of the Civil War and continued lobbyist pressure halted further experimentation with and use of the camels.

The AHF noted that Confederate troops occupied Camp Verde in 1861 and captured several of the remaining camels for use in transporting salt and mail, and were reportedly “badly mistreated, abused and few of them were deliberately killed.” Elsewhere, the other camels were frequently transferred from post to post around the West as “no one knew what else to do with them.”

Between 1864 and 1866, the 37 camels from California and the surviving 44 camels from Camp Verde were put up for auction, with officials expressing regret for the end of the camel experiments and hope that they may be further developed in civilian enterprises.

The AHF said that the camels ended up in circuses, running in “camel races,” giving rides to children, living on private ranches or working as pack animals for miners and prospectors. They became a familiar sight in the Southwest and Western US in the years following their sale, and many were turned loose in the wild to wander the deserts and plains. While the last of the unofficial “US Army Camel Corps” reportedly died in April 1934, occasional camel sightings were reported for decades.

“Ignored and abandoned,” according to the AHF, “it was an ignominious and unfortunate end for these noble ‘ships of the desert.’”

However, the legacy of the short-lived project lives on in the 21st century through the likes of the “Texas Camel Corps,” run by Doug Baum from his property outside of Waco. Baum travels the state with his camels to participate in guided treks and historical reenactments to educate about the part the animals played in Texas history. According to his social media updates, Baum also frequently participates in “camel clinics” to assist in training camel owners and others on camel welfare and handling in veterinary situations.

As noted by Texas Highways and the Alamo, the Texas Camel Corps participates in events throughout the year and accepts visitors to the Valley Mills farm by appointment. In June 2024, the camels also made an appearance at the Alamo during its World Camel Day event.

From hyacinths to the “American Hippo Bill” and food shortage solutions

By the dawn of the 20th century, the US had mostly accomplished its systematic expansion to reach “from sea to shining sea,” with states covering the width of the continent and communities booming with population and industry. With the aid of transcontinental railroads, both people and products were able to travel from one corner of the country to the other with more ease and efficiency than ever.

However, some vital industries struggled to keep up with the breakneck pace of the country’s development. While it was easier than ever to accomplish travel and shipping, for one necessary example, there wasn’t enough meat to meet the needs and demands of countless communities.

As detailed by the Smithsonian , around the turn of the century, inexpensive meat was in short supply. Meatpackers blamed grain prices and cattle shortages, butchers blamed meatpackers, and – according to Portland State University Historian Catherine McNeur – nearly everyone blamed the “Beef Trust” for “conspiring to profit at their expense.”

The “Beef Trust” was the collective nickname for the nation’s largest meatpacking companies at the time, and by the early 1900s, the supply shortage had reached a crisis point for both civilians and policymakers. Public and political opinion had turned wholeheartedly against the “Beef Trust,” and officials scrambled to find a workaround.

Meanwhile, for more than 20 years at that point, the American South had also been caught in a botanical battle against the stubborn and invasive water hyacinth, which choked waterways and threatened established trade routes with unfettered voracity.

Described by Columbia University as a high-priority and invasive “nuisance” species, water hyacinths are free-floating and grow and spread rapidly in freshwater; they can also withstand extremes of nutrient supply, pH level, temperatures, and even grow in toxic water. A single plant can produce 3,000 others in 50 days and their seeds can be viable for up to 20 years.

The water hyacinths also grow best in warm, slow-moving water, which makes them particularly well-suited for the bayous and wide, warm rivers of the American South, such as in Louisiana, Florida and Texas.

Although workers around the South tried to halt the hyacinths by breaking them apart and dredging them from river banks, or even soaking them in gasoline and setting them on fire, the Smithsonian noted that the invasive flowers only thrived.

In 1910, one lawmaker followed in the spiritual footsteps of Davis, continuing the tradition of Southern representatives looking toward Africa to solve two major problems at once.

While Davis favored the idea of using camels as both a military tool and a (literal) vehicle for Western expansion, Louisiana Representative Robert F. Broussard proposed that imported animals like hippopotamuses could rid the South of its hyacinth scourge as well as revitalize the country’s low-cost meat supply.

Also like Davis, Broussard had been aided with the proposal by the efforts of two others: Frederick Russell Burnham and Fritz Duquesne.

Where Crosman and Miller had been friends and collaborators on the initial camel proposal, Burnham and Duquesne had spent the Second Boer War in Southern Africa trying to kill one another. While they never met in combat directly, they were both experts called to testify in support of Broussard’s pursuit of what the New York Times called “lake cow bacon.”

As described by Jon Mooallem, a writer for The Atavist , Burnham stands as a “staggeringly impressive and totally forgotten figure from history.” An inspiration for the Boy Scouts of America and the likes of Indiana Jones, Burnham spent his youth wandering Texas and the Southwest before making his name as a freelance adventurer who fought for British colonialists in Africa. He was once described as the “most complete human being who ever lived,” and in turn described Duquesne as the “human epitome of sin and deception,” as well as “a man of extraordinary power.”

Meanwhile, Duquesne was a Boer, a descendant of Dutch settlers in Africa, who fought against the British during the Second Boer War as a spy. Known as the “Black Panther of the Veld,” and nurturing a cunning and sinister reputation to the point that one writer described him as a “walking living breathing searing killing destroying torch of hate,” Duquesne was a soldier, spymaster, journalist and big-game hunter who made alliances during his lifetime that ranged from the advisory staff of President Theodore Roosevelt to leading a spy ring for Nazi Germany.

Burnham and Duquesne had common connections in their military and globetrotting histories as well as through Roosevelt, for whom Burnham had been a supporter of early conservation programs and Duquesne a big-game hunting advisor. And, importantly to Broussard, both had extensive experience with hunting and processing hippopotamuses.

The two joined other experts like Department of Agriculture Researcher William Newton Irwin (described by Mooallem as a man who “appears to have spent his career championing ideas that were simultaneously perfectly logical and extravagantly bizarre.”) to testify on behalf of Broussard’s “American Hippo Bill.”

However, the proposal didn’t end with hippopotamuses, as noted by the Smithsonian. Rather, Broussard and his gaggle of compatriots argued that dik-diks and other small imported antelopes could be added to family farms, Cape buffalo could be added to Western ranches, rhinoceroses could fill the desert plains of the Southwest, Tibetan yaks could climb the Rocky Mountains and Manchurian pigs could weather the frigid North.

To Congress and the American public, the idea was fantastical in both terms. In the days leading up to and following the congressional hearing on Broussard’s proposal, the press ran with the outlandish proposal with enthusiasm.

“All we have to do to be saved from vegetarianism is to cultivate a taste for hippopotamus, rhinoceros, camel, eland, springbok, [rhebok], dik-dik, [kudu], giraffe and other African animals,” said one article in the Daily Arizona Silver Belt, “Perhaps these animals, some of them at least, are not so bad as they sound.”

Another of many articles noted by the Smithsonian was from the North Dakota Evening Times: “Great Britain has eaten the Australian kangaroo and likes him, horseflesh is a staple in continental Europe, and the people of Central America eat the lizard. Why cannot Americans absorb the hippopotamus?”

Broussard and his supporters assured the public and other policymakers that the hippos could mostly eat the water hyacinths, would be easily tamed and would live safely on five- to six-acre waterfront farms.

“We brought into the country the horse, the cow, the ass, the sheep and the goat, and they have all gone wild and thrived,” said Burnham at the congressional hearing. “If those animals could be adopted into our Western country, I do not see why the game animals cannot be adopted, too.”

Intentionally or not, the Smithsonian pointed out that Broussard’s confidence was deeply misguided. Waste from hippos has a tendency to encourage algae overgrowth and kill native plants and fish in water, mostly graze on grasses after leaving the water, and would not be nutritionally served by the mostly-water water hyacinths. Further, hippopotamuses are considered one of the deadliest animals in the world, killing an estimated 500 people per year and presenting an extreme safety risk if they escape from their pens.

However, in 1910 the expansion of US agriculture into raising and processing imported livestock still seemed like a solid solution to two of the nation’s problems.

That is, to the press and civilian public.

Despite the press coverage and general enthusiasm spurred by the American Hippo Bill, as well as ardent support from a panel of experts and then-recent President Roosevelt, the House Committee on Agriculture met the proposal with a mixed reception. The bill was shelved by the committee members and, again in the footsteps of its camel predecessor, was set aside as attentions were drawn to the outbreak of World War I.

By the mid-1910s, rationing efforts amid the war and the pre-existing meat shortage familiarized the American public with living without items like meat, butter and coffee, as noted by the Smithsonian and published slogans from the time. Afterward, the expansion of the beef industry and technology like refrigeration eventually brought down the price of meat and removed the need for hippo-related solutions for the nation’s diet.

So ended two outrageous and oft-forgotten episodes in the history of Texas and the American Southwest that could have – like the rise of cattle ranching and the destruction of the buffalo – drastically changed the region’s landscape, ecology and economy, were it not for the impact of two of the nation’s most notorious and devastating wars.

The lasting legacy of both instances remains in the perspectives they offer on the nation’s history of attempting to balance the needs of its communities and the health of its landscape with its own industrial development. And, additionally, in the ongoing effort against invasive species, as well as the joyful parades borne from one Texas camel farm.

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