by Dr. H.W. Wiley, U.S. Department of Agriculture, 1891

The establishment by this department of an experimental station at Runnymede [near St. Cloud], Fla., for investigating the growth of sugar cane in reclaimed swamp muck has rendered some account of that kind of soil important. Passing from the Kissimmee River through Lake Okeechobee, we come to the largest body of muck lands in the world. The northern shores of Lake Okeechobee are fringed with very little muck, but as you approach the southern border the muck deposits become deep and wide, until finally they merge into those vast deposits of muck which form the northern border of the Everglades. The exact extent southward of this body of muck is not known, but it has been accurately surveyed for a distance of about 50 miles and found to be of excellent character throughout the whole of this distance.

The origin of muck soil is, of course, vegetable matter. There are no data for estimating the length of time required for the formation of these muck deposits. It is known that it must have been of great duration. The Okeechobee muck is underlaid with a thick stratum of shell marl containing pebbles very rich in phosphorous, and this rests upon a coraline or limestone foundation. As will be seen farther on the muck soils of Florida are markedly deficient in mineral constituents. The presence, therefore, of so large a body of limestone, mingled with phosphatic pebbles, is a matter of no mean importance when the future of these lands is considered. A few of these pebbles were picked up at the headwaters of the Calloosahatchee and examined for phosphoric acid. The mean percentage of phosphoric acid found was 0.697. This region has not been prospected at all for phosphate deposits, but it would not be surprising if they were discovered to exist here in great abundance, as they are found from 60 to 100 miles farther west, in the Peace River region.

The question of climate is also one of prime importance, especially in consideration of the culture of sugar and rice. The Florida planter can confidently count on a continuous manufacturing season, being rarely interrupted by rains. The disadvantages of the dry season are easily overcome by artificial irrigation, which, on account of the level surface of the soil and the short distance which the water must be pumped, is rendered particularly easy. It may be said that no danger need be apprehended by the planter, even in the central portion of the peninsula, from frost. The cane may be allowed to ripen during the months of November and December, and grinding operation need not begin until January or even later. The climactic conditions of temperature, therefore, in this respect, approach those of the island of Cuba. In March, 1891, during a visit to this region, numerous fields of cane were seen along the Caloosahatchee which had not yet been cut, and which, although not entirely green, were only affected in coor by the maturity of the plant presenting a rich yellowish green. In this region the sugar cane is absolutely free of any danger from frost, although occasionally light frosts have been known to injure more delicate plants. It may be said, then, with confidence that in the region of the Okeechobee Lake the lands which may be recovered for sugar-making purposes have all the advantages of the climate of Cuba. The manufacture of sugar from the cane in this region may be postmpned with perfect safety until the beginning of February, and the months of February, March, and April be the months of greatest activity in sugar manufacture.

There is practically no other body of land in the world which presents such remarkable possibilities of development as the muck lands bordering the southern shores of Lake Okeechobee. With a depth of soil averaging, perhaps, 8 feet, and an extent of nearly half a acres, with a surface almost absolutely level, it affords promise of development which reaches beyond the limits of prophecy.

Seminole Indians

by Ernest F. Coe, 1931

Is there anything that can be done for the Seminole by which he may continue to maintain his identity as a race and his personality as an individual? Now a solution to the whole Seminole problem both economic and social makes its appearance and presents itself for searching study.

A national park comprising some two thousand square miles in extent is under consideration, taking in the territory extending north from the Cape Sables to some miles north of the Tamiami Trail. As a national park its wildlife would be protected. This protection would tend to an increase in the game animals to such an extent that there would be a migration into adjoining territory, thereby keeping this territory perpetually supplied.

What better assurance could possibly be afforded the Seminole of a constant future supply of game than the setting aside for him of a goodly sized area, let us say 500 square miles, just north of, and abutting the park area?

It is very generally believed by those who have studied out this park project that if established it will be very popular with the national park sojourning public, as much so as any of the national parks. The outstanding features of interest will be its salubrious climate, unusual scenic features, abundant native wild life, both plant and animal, and undoubtedly the Seminole. Not the Seminole as an exhibit but the Seminole as the rightful occupant of the region with the tourist, in a measure, as his guest. There is something about the Seminole that fascinates those who come in contact with him. His general appearance is refined and his manner gentle. The costume worn today by the Seminole is colorful to the extreme and unique in every way. It is quite reasonable to assume that the Seminole by being present within the park would be a most acceptable feature, again not as an exhibit but, truly, as a host.

Hundreds of miles of interlocking waterways ramnifying primeval tropic jungles are characteristic of this proposed national park region. The Seminole is familiar with this labyrinth of waterways and finds his way through them as no one else can. What could be more tempting or give promise of a rarer experience to the park sojourner than a trip of a few minutes or hours through one of these jungle waterways, sitting in the bow of a dugout canoe, guided by a Seminole, who fits so perfectly into the picture?

Would he take kindly to being a guide within the park? In the opinion of some who have had an opportunity to know him, he would, and prove a most satisfactory guide in many ways. Under suitable park guidance his work as a guide, especially a canoe guide, gives promise of not only being tremendously interesting and popular with the tourist but satisfactory to the park management as well.

European Exploration

by John Sparke, English explorer, 1654 (from "The Attractions of Florida" in The Annals of America)

In ranging this coast along, the captain found it to be all an island and, therefore, it is all lowland and very scant of fresh water, but the country was marvelously sweet, with both marsh and meadow ground and goodly woods among.

The commodities of this land are more than are yet known to any man; for besides the land itself whereof there is more than any king Christian is able to inhabit, it flourishes with meadow, pasture ground, with woods of cedar and cypress, and other sorts, as better cannot be in the world.

Of beasts in this country, besides, deer, foxes, hares, polecats, cunnies [rabbits], ownces [lynx], leopards, I am not able certainly to say; but it is thought that there are lions and tigers as well as unicorns, lions especially, if it be true that is said of the enmity between them and the unicorns. And seeing I have made mention of the beasts of this country, it shall not be from my purpose to speak also of the venomous beasts, as crocodiles, whereof there is a great abundance; adders of great bigness, whereof our men killed some of a yard and a half long.

Of the fish also they have in the river, pike, roche [striped bass], salmon, trout, and diverse other small fishes, and of a great snout much like a sword of a yard long. There be also of sea fishes, which are of the bigness of a smelt, the biggest sort whereof have four wings, but the other have but two.

There is a sea fowl, also, that chases this flying fish as well as the bonito; for as the flying fish takes her flight, so does this fowl pursue to take her, which to behold is a greater pleasure than hawking, for both the flights are as pleasant, and also more often than 100 times; for the fowl can fly no way but one or other lights in her paws, the number of them are so abundant.

Fowls also be there many, both upon the land and upon sea. But concerning them on the land I am not able to name them, because my abode there was so short. But for the fowl of the fresh waters, these two I noted to be the chief; whereof the flamingo is one, having all red feathers and long red legs like a heron, a neck according to the bill red, whereof the upper nebu hangs an inch over the nether. And an egripte [egret], which is all white as the swan, with legs like to a heronshaw, and of bigness accordingly, but it has in her tail feathers of so fine a plume that it passes the estridge [ostrich] his feather. Of sea fowl above all other not common in England, I noted the pelican, which is feigned to be the lovingest bird that is, which rather than her young should want, will spare her heart blood out of her belly.

Surveying

From "Lost in the Everglades" by John King, 1917 in Forest & Stream Magazine

All day long we have circled and doubled on our tracks and sought the slightest encouragement in a territory of shallow water and mud-ridden sloughs. It seems past belief that, almost within hearing of Miami's church bells, we should thus face absolute helplessness. Is it possible that the canal has accomplished all THIS!

We have tried no less than fifty times today to locate a satisfactory and navigable passage. Always it is the same -- always the coming up against everlasting barriers of dry and withered saw-grass, or the deadly monotony of mud.

I am sick of the sound of the sloughs grinding against the bottom of the craft. If this keeps on, the 'Glades will be another Sahara in another year. It is beginning to look as if we must try and find the dredges again and make a fresh start. The thought is unbearable. John speared a Garfish at noon. I warned them against the experiment, but they skinned it and tried to fry it for a luncheon delicacy. I tried not to smile, as they had their first mouth-full and then very quietly tossed the remainder overboard. Thousands of minnows whipped up from nowhere, for these scraps -- the shallow water fairly seethed with them. But there has been little opportunity to fish up to now. Nothing short of a Garfish would care to take up quarters in these despicable channels. Another night in the boat -- not even a myrtle island in sight. We will surely do something desperate tommorrow.

My boy made a suggestion. He pointed out a passage -- one we had thought little of on our way through. We poled in and continued for some thousand yards. It was leading us behind a hummock -- and it was this deceptive hummock that had fooled me. Plenty of water -- and clear water at that. A pleasure to pole the boat. In a calm moment, we could hear the shriek of the dredge whistles. The passage was bearing us in the general direction of the Central Slough -- quite remote from the scene of our three-day wandering. Water easily one foot deep -- and more -- and such opalescent water! Almost a lake, so wide is the passage. Fish -- fish -- fish -- a Wonderland of the finny tribe! Looking over the sides of the boat, we can see them in the greatest variety -- big mouth bass, fresh water chub, sunfish, swarms of shimmering minnows, crawfish, the irrepressible gar, and, now and again, terrapin and box-turtles. The passage waterway is like a great aquarium and we may look down into it with equal ease.

Overhead and noisily active amongst the bay thickets and myrtle islands, there are teal, big blue heron and queer long-legged, long-billed aquatic freaks, piping in shrill tones, every time they are disturbed. Water moccassins are in their element here. Every log crawls with some sort of reptile! We could see them actually playing in the shallows -- like children.

As night came on, we saw the long, thin trail of smoke against the low sky -- forest fires! Brush being burned in the canal district. My hat off to those water rats at work in the muck. They are doing a fine thing for the future generations in Florida.

Military

Anonymous, 1841 from "Notes on the Passage Across the Everglades" printed in The St. Augustine News

Colonel Harney, 2nd Dragoons, with Capt. Davidson, Lieuts. Rankin and Ord, 3rd Artillery, Dr. Russell, and myself, started from Fort Dallas with 90 men, and sixteen canoes. We left on the 4th of December, at night, and proceeded up the left prong of the Miami River. The night was very dark and rainy, and we met with considerable difficulty in ascending on account of the rapidity of the current and the shoal and rocky bed of the river. About a mile above the forks we came to a body of high saw grass, this continued for about a mile and a half, when we came in open view of the Everglades, and the grass became more scattered. The pine barren was kept close on our left, until we came to a small island on our left, when our course became more westerly; thus we continued until distant about eight miles from the mouth of the river, when Capt. Davidson becoming separated from us we halted to the leeward of an island which was entirely overflowed, and waited until he came up, where the night was passed in our open boats. It continued to rain nearly all night, and our situation was anything but comfortable.

5th Dec. -- By daylight this morning we were up and at it with our paddles; our course was generally West-South-West, but this we varied according to the direction of the channels, and our depth of water, till about 1 o'clock; the men being very much fatigued, haveing had to pull their boats through the mud and grass a greater part of the way, we insisted on John, our guide, carrying us to some high land, where we might encamp and give the men a little rest. The officers had almost lost confidence in his knowledge of the country, as at one time he could not tell us in which direction the sun rose; and as we concluded not to follow him in the direction he was going any longer, he insisted that he was right, and that his object was to carry us where he could find the greatest depth of water, and that he could carry us a nearer way, but it was very shoal; which proved in the end to be correct, as he had not gone more than a few miles when it was with the greatest difficulty, we could move the boats. The Colonel called to him to stop, as he would go no further in that direction; but he insisted that the island was not more than a mile distant, and the Colonel suffered him to proceed. Sure enough, contrary to the expectations of us all, he in a short time halted at a low tuft of bushes, about half a mile in circumference, which seemed to us to be entirely flooded with water, but after penetrating about 300 yeards, we came to a magnificent little spot in its centre, about 150 yeards in circumference, here we found an old Indian camp which evidently had been deserted for some months.

6th Dec. -- Nothing now presents itself to view except one boundless expanse of saw-grass and water, occasionally interspersed with little islands, all of which are overflowed, but the trees are in a green and flourisheing state. No country that I have ever heard of bears any resemblance to it; it seems like a vast sea, filled with grass and green trees, and expressly intended as a retreat for the rascally Indians, from which the white man would never seek to drive them. We reached the island, as expected, at about 12 o'clock. When we came in sight, the Colonel took four canoes, with Lieut. Rankin, and went ahead, having first painted and dressed himself and men so much like Indians, that they could scarcely themselves detect the imposition. We had to wade through mud and water three or four hundred yeards, up to our waists, before we gained dry land; here we found a corn field of about an acre, and the richest land I have ever seen, being one black heap of soil of endless depth. This island is called from the Indian name of the wild fig, "Ho-co-mo-thlocco." It being early we did not remain here long, but pushed on to another island, about seven miles distant, the usual stopping place of the Indian, when they visit Sam Jones, or go from his camp to the Spanish Indians; we arrived early in the evening; and had to wade 200 yeard before we gained a footing; we found here signs of a few days old, where they had been cutting bushes.

7th Dec. -- We reached another Island, which is called Cochokeynchajo, from the name of an Indian who cleared and cultivated it. Being early when we arrived here, the Colonel, contrary to the opinion of the guide, determined not to remain here until night, but took Lieut. Ord ahead with him, and two canoes, to surprise the next Island. Following on with the rest of the boats, we had not gone more than a mile, when we lost the trail of their boats, and continued to wander every point of the compass until late in the evening, when we made out to reach the Island from which we started about sun-set, and found John, who had returned for us. Considered ourselves very fortunate to reach this Island again, as we could not follow with any certainty our trails for one hundred yards. It was late at night when we reached the Island, where Lieut. Ord had gone. But notwithstanding the thousand channels which flowed and wound in every direction, and although it was so dark that we could not distinguish land from water, John never once missed the track.

10th Dec. -- As soon as the sun went down, the camp was broken up, and we were again on the water. The night was very dark and rainy, and the guide could, with the greatest of difficulty, keep in the trail. When we were within a few miles of the Island, the Colonel sent Lieuts. Rankin and Ord ahead to surprise the Island. They did not reach it until sometime after sunrise; but such was the confidence of the Indians in their own security, that our party was not discovered until they had crept up into their camp, and commenced firing. Chakika, who was chopping wood, threw down his axe and ran off howling; but his hour had come; not withstanding his herculean strength, he could not escape. Hall, one of the Dragoons, pursued him alone when all the men were exhausted, fired and killed him, took his scalp, and returned. We have now crossed the long fabled and unknown Everglades, at least as far as we can go in boats in this direction. A large cypress swamp extends for many miles along the border, running north-east and south-west the great resort for the Indians, where they build their canoes. We found in Chakika's camp a large quantity plunder, consisting of cloths, linnens, calicoes, ready made clothing, all kinds of tools, powder, &c. &c.; and had an auction of them which amounted to upwards of $200. We also got a fine barge, and a great quantity of coonti [a plant used to make starch].

11th Dec. -- Our tent or shed was pitched last night within a short distance of the tree on which Chakika was suspended. The night was beautiful, and the bright rising moon displayed to my view as I lay on my bed, the gigantic proportions of this once great and much dreaded warrior. He is said to have been the largest Indian in Florida, and the sound of his very name to have been a terror to his Tribe.

Flood Control District

by William H. Bischoff, in the Miami Daily News/American Eagle, May 8, 1947

("Everglades Water Problem") At this writing there is a plethora of water in the Everglades. Fields are soggy and farmers with drainage are pumping against swollen canals to dry them out. Lake Okeechobee is against the dikes.

Two years ago the conditions were just the opposite. The fields were powder dry. Columns of smoke, like water-spouts at sea, hung at intervals over the limitless sameness of the 'glades. Miamians and residents of other cities bordering the marshy plain breathed acrid smoke with every breeze that blew from the west.

When the white man conceived the richness of the Everglades his natural disposition was to think of its development in terms of an agricultural El Dorado.

In short focus, this theory was correct. Had the exploitation of the 'glades as a farming region remained limited, no problem of disturbing the balance of nature would have arisen. But it is not the way of the white man, particularly the American, to limit the development of his enterprises to the boundaries imposed by nature.

As more and more thousands of acres were made arable, more and more drainage canals bore the water away to the sea. Eventually the land was so well drained that the natural reservoirs which would hold water over from the plethora of a rainy season to the lack of a dry spell were tapped. So well drained were the 'glades in the wet season that when the dry season came they were dry everywhere.

There is still not enough drainage to move all the unwanted water when whimsical nature unleashes a torrent of rainfall.

Such a torrent descended upon the 'glades the first week end in March. More than six inches of rain deluged the land in 24 hours. Nearly two weeks later the poorly drained fields were still sodden, while the modern pumping systems of the best-drained farms were laboring mightily to keep the water tables below the danger mark. The water rushing seaward between the canal banks was well above the level of the fields.

Florida has been warned by scientists again and again: If indiscriminate drainage of the 'glades continues, the land will be a parched desert, arable only in those seasons, always sporadic, when the amount of rainfall is neither too little nor too great.

It is probable that the people of Florida, official and otherwise, are now fully awake to the fact that what man has wrought in the Everglades is quite possibly the state's most valuable asset, and that it is in danger.

While the drainage commissionn is working toward the achievement of more drainage, it is also working to build up a savings account from the water pulled out of the agricultural areas when water is too plentiful. This excess water is being diverted into conservation areas when water is too plentiful. This excess water is being diverted into conservation areas from where it may be drawn upon in times of drought. The drainage commission and its engineers claim these water storage areas will, at least to some extent, restore the balance of nature.

There are those who claim that all Everglades land is of some use. So, what lands should be flooded for conservation and what not is bound to remain a point of difference.

Another bone of contention is the equability of taxation to develop and maintain the ambitious program with which the drainage commission will go before the state legislature.

All who have a stake in the future of Florida are hoping that disagreement will not balk execution of the strategy.

Melaleuca

1947 letter from C.H. Coulter, State Forester to A.H. Andrews, editor of The American Eagle, about melaleuca.

Over the last 6 or 7 years we have conducted a number of tests with this tree. Our tests with the leaves for extraction of oil indicate the quantity of oil received from the leaves cannot be obtained in paying quantities. The lumber makes excellent furniture, but it has a tendency to split when drying and is somewhat difficult to handle. It has been tested for the manufacture of shuttles, which did not pan out. We are not giving up up on the lumber possibilities, as we still believe it can be used for the manufacture of furniture and other novelties. Veneering tests show that this wood veneers very good, although difficulty has been experienced in the veneer machines as the bark tends to choke up the knives before they start slicing off the wood.

We are running tests now with cajeput wood, both treated and untreated, for posts and crossties. These tests have been in now for a little more than a year and the untreated wood to date is holding up very good. Our experiments with the bark indicate, as you have stated in your article, promise as being used for insulation material. One of the manufacturers of bottle caps tested this bark to replace the cork in the caps, but found that the cell structure of the bark was such that it could not hold carbonated liquids.

We are well aware of the problems of forestry in that area, and wish to assure you that we are not overlooking the cajeput tree as a bet for South Florida.

Andrews in the June 12 edition: There are two fine [melaleuca] trees growing at the arch between Dade and Collier County on the Trail, from seed scatterd by the writer some years ago.

Now as to timber seasoning. Any lumberman knows that trees of rapid growth that thrive in wet or marsh land neccessarily absorb large quantities of water. Under usual logging operations, ends of the logs that are exposed to air and sunlight dry out rapidly. The sapwood, being most heavily permeated with moisture, dries out more rapidly than the heartwood, creating numerous creacks in the log which often ruin it for lumber.

In the old days when oak trees were cut down for boat timbers they used to season them slowly by immersing the logs in mud and water for a time, and I am told that in cypress logging a common practice is to girdle the trees thoroughly some time before cutting. The difficulty is that in mud and water for a time, and I am told that in cypress logging a common practice is to girdle the trees thoroughly some time before cutting. The difficulty is that in these days of high pressure we expect to rush hard wood timber through from log to seasoned lumber in record time, and it just can't be done.

Now as to oil extraction, I would say that you can't get blood out of turnip. Neither can you extract a high percentage of oil from trees in high land that are slow of growth. The only fair test is to distill the oil from the leaves of trees in moist land that are in the full flush of growth. Such has been in Australia and the South Sea Islands, and I see no reason why it cannot be successfully done with trees that grow in Florida.

There are plenty of timber trees that will grow in our drained and fertile areas, but the chief value of the Cajeput is that it will grow and thrive on land so poor and wet that nobody knows what else to do with it.

The Audubon Society

by Oliver Griswold in Miami Daily News, 1947

Once it was widely assumed that getting intimate with the wildlife and flora of the 'Glades and the lowest West Coast labyrinth of islands called for hopping over snakes, sidestepping 'gators, plunging through bogs in hip boots, and battling swarms of mosquitoes. But for the average person with a hunger to experience the feeling of South Florida's darkest wilderness and observe its brightest beauties, a tall, unassuming man in Coconut Grove has an easy answer.

He'll take you into this primitive world and bring you back in 29 hours, filled with fascinating facts and vivid memories, feeling like an intrepid explorer. For some time, now, Lt. Comdr. Charles M. Brookfield, tropical Florida representative of the National Audubon Society, has been conducting wildlife tours of the area. He handles a very special clientele -- people imbued with the idea that seeing and understanding the beauties of nature, especially South Florida's dramatic birdlife, are good for the soul and lots of fun. He is filled with scientific details, too, and in the company of naturalists is at home on that level.

He takes no more than six or seven persons at time. At the cloes of the first season of tours into the lower Everglades and Florida Bay, he had taken ony 514 persons. That number, however, was only half of those who wanted to go, and the rest had to be turned down because of the National Audubon Society's limited transportation. Considering the conservative wya the society publicizes its trips, even that number is something of an indication of what the Everglades National Park can develop.

Brookfield has selected Duck Rock [destroyed by Hurricane Donna in 1960] as the objective of his summer, twice-weekly tours which will run through July. Off the southwest coast, it is one of the Ten Thousand Islands. On a foundation of rock, the tides have heaped a layer of sand, over which oysters have formed a rough crust. In the center is a tangle of mangroves providing roosts for hordes of wading and water birds.

Lying 15 miles below Everglades City, it is wild and lonely. A few fishermen go by. Sometimes on the distant Gulf horizon the Greek sponge boats from Tarpon Springs are silhouetted. But regularly the birds see two human beings, George D. ("Peter") Scott, the Audubon warden, and his wife. They live on a well-screened cabin boat anchored off the island to guard the birds.

Usually the tour member have read or heard about the wonders of the great mass bird flights. The tourists from a downtown hotel in Miami a little doubtful that, at last, they are really going to see this fabulous sight and feel the spell of the far-away wilderness. It seems a little fantastic to start on such a safari in ordinary outing clothes, without packs of supplies, high boots, jungle jackets, tents, utensils, and bearer boys.

But Brookfield soon makes it real and credible. As the station wagon with Brookfield himself at the wheel heads west on the Tamiami Trail, he produces a handful of Audubon daily field cards, a printed checklist of the birds occurring in North America east of the Mississippi. It's a way of keeping score on the species on the trip. Usually, it adds to more 30 on the Duck Rock trip. In a few minutes, the open spaces of the 'Glades and the canal along the highway have produced a good start -- gallinules, coots, boat-tailed grackles, red-shouldered hawks, herons, egrets, doves, ospreys, wood-peckers, and two kinds of vultures.

Suddenly someone spies a soaring swallow-tailed kite, a bird that many and ornithologist had travelled hundreds of miles to see, for it rarely occurs anywhere in this country except South Florida, and never abundantly here. The car stops, giving everyone a soul-satisfying look at the graceful, fork-tailed rarity.

"Up ahead, we may see wood ducks," announces Brookfield. All eyes watch the canal.

"Wood duck over there," said Brookfield, applying the brakes. A pair of them, the female with a crest, but rather drab compared with the gay haberdashery of her mate. Brookfield received a bit of "kidding" about how much the Audubon Society paid the ducks to reside in such a convenient place on the tour route.

By the time they reached Everglades City about noon, more than 20 species had been checked on the field cards. Claus Sengehaas, manager of the Everglades Rod and Gun Club, took over, quartering the guests and providing a luncheon worthy of a metropolitan establishment. If the enjoyment of a tender steak made the guests forget they were in the heart of the wilds, they had only to gaze at the collection of mounted creatures lining the club's walls. Panther, bear, bobcat, rare birds by the dozen, together with fish by the score, all from the immediate vicinity.

"We'll take our time going down through the canals and rivers," announces Brookfield as the party boards the society's trim cabin cruiser at the club's front door. "We'll arrive at Duck Rock at about 4:30. We've got supper with us, and when we've seen the evening flights to the rookery, we'll enjoy it in the moonlight." Arthur Eifler, Audubon warden stationed at Everglades City to cover the waters and lands from Marco to Lostman's River, guides the boat.

"Not so much trouble with people shooting the birds as there used to be," he says. "Once in a while, yes. It's education that's done it. Of course, we still have to be around." The wading birds, at this hour, are feeding inland around the headwaters of the creeks and rivers draining southwestward out of the Everglades. Here they find little fish, freshwater crawfish, and other aquatic tidbits.

The two boats take position with the flamboyant sunset behind them. Far off -- several miles inland -- a wispy cloud forms low over the mangroves. It twists and changes, like a swarm of bees or a streak of smoke. Suddenly its consistency is clear -- hundreds of white ibis in wavering formations, V's and single files, phalanxes and company fronts. The flock bears down with speed. Ahead of it comes the whoosh of beating wings. The black and white birds rush by overhead, their carmine faces, curved bills, and trailing legs easily visible, seemingly oblivious to the awed spectators. On they come, flight after flight; scores, then hundreds, until thousands of wings fill the air with their mystic, musical whispering.

The morning return to Miami is via the "loop road," and old part of the original Tamiami Trail, with willows and cypress pressions close. Wild turkeys frequent it to pick seeds from the weeds along the edge. But they are shy, and after an automobile has frightened them off, they hide for hours. Just before the station wagon reaches the Turkey habitat, an ancient truck loaded with fishing tackle and Seminoles come rattling through.

But the disappointment is soon dispelled. Brookfield points out a bald eagle chasing an osprey high in the blue. The osprey has a fish. The huge birds maneuver swiftly, like fighter planes. The eagle suddenly gets a position just over the osprey, poised to deliver a knock-out. The osprey realizes it's all over. He drops the fish. The eagle swoops triumphantly, snatching the falling morsel from mid-air.

The witness are filled with sympathy -- and with jocular remarks to Brookfield about his ability to engage such skilled aerialists for such an unforgettable show. "Complete change of cast every tour," says Brookfield.

Logging

by Milton Kelly 1947 in the Miami Daily News

Copeland, Fla. -- A huge double-handle saw bites its way through a giant cypress tree a century old in the Fakahatchee swamp near Copeland, Fla. The cry of T-I-M-B-E-R! glides through the wilderness and the tree crashes into the water.

But before that happens, a great deal of detail must be worked out. It's almost 6 a.m. and a crew of 225 lumberjacks, girdlers, sawyers, cranemen and skid operators boards the labor train at the Lee Lumber Company inCollier county, bound for the heart of the swamp.

The train moves at a speed of about 12 miles per hour through the forest, passing cypress stumps, some measuring more than four feet in diameter, passing logs that have been cut in 32-foot lengths but are yet to be snaked out and pssing Royal Palms that tower over 75 feet.

Inside the labor train, the crew sits on cypress-made benches, some holding lunch boxes and razor-sharp machetes that will be used for cutting their way through tropical forest and for protection against wild animals.

One of the toughest jobs the loggers face is the task of wading and cutting their way through vines, brush and rotting vegetation to reach the trees far off the cleared right-of-ways. This job is assigned to the girdlers. Twenty-five Seminoles are chosen for the girdling task. The girdling operation consists of hewing deep circles around the tree, draining it of its sap and killing the tree, a process that makes it easier for the sawyers to handle.

The sawyers cut as much as 10,000 feet of cypress a day, using double-handled saws. As many as 600 logs are snaked out of the swamp in one day and other days as few as 100 are snaked out. Getting the cypress out of the wilderness is a process that requires the greatest of logging skill and special designed machinery. It also requires skill in railroading, as the loggers, after carving their way through the forest, must build right-of-ways and lay tracks so the overhead skidder may operate.

When the skidder appears, cables are stretched out some 100 feet into the swamp and tied fast to stout trees, anchoring the skidder. Steel cables are strung overhead, extending 800 to 900 feet into the wilderness. All this activity isn't going on in just this particular area. Other crews are following the same pattern several miles away. The crews work ten hours a day.

After the cables have been made fast to the trees, eight to ten hookers are waiting back in the swamp for the "bicycle" to come swinging down the steel cable. The bicycle is a pulley to whcih is attached a pair of hooks weighing nearly 100 pounds. The bicycle travels down the cable at an approximate speed of 50 miles an hour and is manipulated by the skid operator.

Agriculture

From Walter Waldin's 1910 book Truck Farming in the Everglades

Chapter VI: The Everglade Section

Without doubt, the richest soil in the State is in the section known as the EVERGLADES. This great swamp covers an area of over four thousand square miles, embracing considerably more than half of the territory lying south of Lake Okeechobee. This region does not present an impenetrable thicket, as is so often supposed, but it is in appearance mroe like an Illinois prairie, dotted here and there with a clump of trees, quite similar to our Northern windbreaks, the only difference being that they have been covered during the rainly season with more or less water. This vast area is also covered with large patches of coarse grass, which, on account of the leaves or blades having rough or serrated saw-like edges, is called saw-grass.

This grass in places grows so rank as to from a dense mass, often ten feet high. Through this tall grass here and there are winding, tortuous channels which, after enticing the canoeist through a maze, terminate more often in a still denser barrier of saw-grass. During the dry season these saw-grass beds are often fired by the Indians in quest of game, and burn to the ground, accompanied by loud popping noises not unlike the cracking of rifles in sham battles.

Should the rainy season begin after one of these saw-grass fires, the life is smothered out of the roots by the water standing over them, and as these patches seem to have accumulated a great amount of humus, being frequently several inches higher than the surrounding land, they form an enticing seed-bed for trees, and low hammocks are frequently formed in this way. There seems to be no part of this immense elevated plateau that is not reclaimable, or that will not respond to man's useful influence and energy, and thus be made extremely valuable.

Since the land is free from stumps and trees, the item of clearing needs little consideration -- simply burning the grass cleans the land for the plow. The soil, although the very richest, is easily worked and irrigated and has, in addition, such climate and location as to make it extraordinarily valuable. The ease with which this kind of soil can be cultivated, on account of its light and porous nature, is another very attractive feature, expecially when compared to the stiff, heavy soils of other States. Another favorable consideration is that the busy season here comes during the coolest and most pleasant time of the year, and though the labor can be ever so hard, one can work in shirt sleeves and without perspiring.

Analysis of this soil shows, besides traces of potash and phosphate, as high as three per cent of ammonia, it being in this respect a very rich fertilizer. When this tract is sufficiently drained and the possibility of overflow form Lake Okeechobee is removed, it will without a doubt become the largest, most productive and most profitable garden spot in the United States.

Were I asked to select an ideal soil I would prefer a deep sandy muck well decomposed, situated where it can be easily drained, preferably on or near the bank of one of the canals, by means of which also the produce can be transported by barge directly to the steamer lines plying to and from the northern markets, thus getting advantage of the cheapest mode of transportation.

This section is attracting many settlers and when once under extensive tillage will become, without a single doubt, the heaviest producing area in the United States. It is simply wonderful to think that such a large tract should have not only the richest soil and a fine climate, but be so located as to be subject to subirrigation throughout, with Lake Okeechobee as a reservoir and the entire Kissimmee River valley as a never failing supply of not alone water but humus as well. When to this is added the water transportation it is no wonder that thousands have bought and will buy homes here. This country can easily produce forage enough to supply a million head of cattle the year round.

Lake Okeechobee

by Wallace Harney in Harper's New Monthly Magazine, 1884

Nothing could appear more queenly and magnificent than Lake Okeechobee as we came upon it. The closing day was drawing the soft veils of dusk over the pinnate and pointed foliage set clear against the dying lights.

It would require too much space to distinguish the botanical characters of vegetation in this virgin area; but the economy of nature is exhibited in the increase of leaf surface by atmospheric nutrition, displayed in gigantic ferns, palms, and the massing of delicate pinnate foliage in the bay, cypress, and their congeners, like the refinement of art in nature. These, shining, pointed, or darkly varnished in the willow and custard-apple, show a thousand tones and shades of green, which catch the lights and shadows in innumerable angles and surfaces, developing an extraordinary brilliance and softness. The great basin is a shallow pool on the oolitic limestone, in a frame of sawgrass, whose pale straw-color is brought out against the distant vaporous, velvety bronze and green of the red bay. It sits on a stool twenty-five feet from the sea, and five feet above the terrace of the Everglades. We crossed under a high wind, December 9, from the Kissimmee to the mouth of the Drainage Canal.

The axe-men had penetrated the fringe of custard-apples, and revealed through the opening the welcome pillar of smoke of the dredge. The stratification as developed in the cutting beginning from the bedrock is clay and marl under white sand, overlaid by a deep bed of muck. The depth and rankness of this superficial deposit are extraordinary. It needs no scientific acumen to discover that the successful drainage of such a deposit will develop an area of fertility unrivaled even by the loamy bottoms of the Mississippi.

A canal twenty-two feet wide, having an average fall of one foot to the mile, connects Okeechobee with Hiokpochee, and this is connected with Lake Flirt by a second canal through the soft chalk rim of the outer basin. Curiously Captain Menge, engineer of the dredge, found here the remains of an old cut of the Spaniards, showing that even the project of drainage of Governor Westcott was not the first.

South of Fort Thompson is the beautiful current of the Caloosahatchee, flowing between high banks, terraced in the characteristic manner of the topography. This feature, peculiar to all river valleys, indicates the manner in which the grand trowels of nature have built up the watershed of all South Florida. Here in the soft marl or loam are exhibited everywhere the escarpments seen in the harsher features of parallel roads in the geology of more northern latitudes. In that is the explanation of the overflowed lands of Florida, and the key to their successive drainage, terrace by terrace, to the Everglades.

Again the scenery has changed. The tall silken plumes of the saw-grass and bamboo-like cane give way to forests of live-oak, palm, myrtle, and mangrove islands. In the valley of Peace Creek are found the bones of huge pachydermata of the swamp epoch. The sugarcane tassels, and ratoons, or grows from one planting, from seven to sixteen years. Cotton becomes perennial. When our little party first penetrated from Orange County by interior waters to the Gulf, it was all raw, wild, unknown; but since then a little steamer has gone through the Drainage Canals down the Caloosahatchee, and in another season the Northern tourist can explore the described region, and pronounce for himself upon the accuracy of the proposed theory, and the character of the land reclaimed.

1926 Hurricane of Lake Okeechobee

from Zora Neale Hurston's novel Their Eyes Were Watching God

To Janie's strange eyes, everything in the Everglades was big and new. Big Lake Okeechobee, big beans, big cane, big weeds, big everything...Ground so rich that everything went wild.

They rattled nine miles in a borrowed car to the quarters that squatted so close that only the dyke separated them from great, sprawling Okeechobee...Every now and then they'd run across a party of Indians in their long, narrow dug-outs calmly winning their living in the trackless ways of the 'Glades...

One night they got a boat and went out hunting alligators. Shining their phosphorescent eyes and shooting them in the dark. They could sell their hides and teeth in Palm Beach...

Day by day now, the hordes of workers poured in...They came in wagons from way up in Georgia and they came in truck loads from east, west, north and south...All night, all day, hurrying to pick beans.

All night now the jooks clanged and clamored...Work all day for money, fight all night for love. The rich black earth clinging to bodies and biting the skin like ants.

Men made fires and fifty or sixty men slept around each fire. But they had to pay the man whose land they slept on.

Before they realized it the sun was cooler and the crowds came pouring onto the muck again...Saturday afternoon when the work tickets were turned into cash everybody began to buy coon-dick and get drunk.

So she was home by herself one afternoon when she saw a band of Seminoles passing by. The men walking in front and the laden, stolid women following them like burros. They were headed towards the Palm Beach road and kept moving steadily..."Going to high ground. Saw-grass bloom. Hurricane coming."

Sometime that night the winds came back. Everything in the world had a strong rattle...So when Janie loooked out of her door she saw the drifting mists gathered in the west--that cloud field of the sky--to arm themselves with thunders and march forth against the world. Louder and higher and wide the sound and motions spread, mounting, sinking, darking.

It woke up old Okeechobee and the monster began to roll in his bed...Through the screaming they heard things crashing and things hurtling and dashing with unbelievable velocity.

But above all the drive of the wind and water. And the lake. Under its multiplied roar could be heard a mighty sound of grinding rock and timber and a wail...A huge barrier of the makings of the dike to which the cabins had been added was rolling and tumbling forward. Ten feet higher and as far as they could see the muttering wall advanced before the braced-up waters like a road crusher on a cosmic scale.

They passed a dead man in a sitting position on a hummock, entirely surrounded by wild animals and snakes...Another man clung to a cypress tree on a tiny island. A tin roof of a building hung from the branches by electric wires and the wind swung it back and forth like a mighty ax. The man dared not move a step to his right lest this crushing blade split him open. He dared not step left for a large rattlesnake was stretched full length with his head in the wind.

Tea Cake found that he was part of a small army that had been pressed into service to clear the wreckage in public places and bury the dead...Corpses were not just found in wrecked houses. They were under houses, tangled in shrubbery, floating in water, hanging in trees, drifting under wreckage...Trucks lined with drag kept rolling in from the 'Glades and other outlying parts, each with its load of twenty-five bodies.

Ranching

by Cleo Rainwater from the chapter "Ranching in Florida" in Our Journey Through Florida, 1958

There have been cattle in Florida for about four hundred years, ever since the days of the Spanish settlement. Some say it started with cattle that strayed from the exploring expeditions of De Narvaez and De Soto. Maybe it did. But cattle came into the state in other ways, too.

More than likely the first Florida cattle were brought in by the Indians who fled south Georgia between 1700 and 1800. Other cattle were brought here by people of the South who did not want the American colonies to break away from England at the time of the Revolutionary war. These colonies fled to St. Augustine, which was then a British colony. They brought their cattle with them. When the British left Florida in 1783, many left their cattle behind them. These became stray cattle, just roaming about, living off the wild grasses that grew here. They were left to find food for themselves. Because of this, the offspring of those early cattle are noted for being able to stand hardships and get their own food.

Of course, it was easy for them in a way. The climate of Florida is so warm that grass grows from nine to ten months out of the year anywhere in the state. In southern Florida it grows the entire year, so that grazing can go on twelve months of the year. However, native Florida grasses grown in this soil are not rich in food value. Good beef cannot be produced without other foods being added to the grass diet of the cattle.

The Seminole nation herded those wild cattle. When the white settlers came, they saw the fine herds of the Indians, so they began to round up cattle for themselves.

Both Indians and whites pushed farther south, through the Alachua country into the Kissimmee Valley and on to Lake Okeechobee. All of that area was fine cow country then, as it is now. Today about seventy out of every hundred of Florida's beef cattle are produced in the central and southern parts of the state. The largest range area is made up of Polk, Osceola, Highlands, Hardee, De Soto, Hillsborough, Collier, Glades, and Okeechobee counties.

Florida used to ship her cattle to states in the Midwest to be fattened for market. This is still done. But there is a large amount of steer-feeding, as this fattening of beef cattle for market is called, carried on around Quincy in North Florida and at Belle Glade in South Florida.

Florida is the fastest growing beef cattle state in our country. Cattle growing in Florida is no new thing. The state was shipping cattle to Cuba as early as 1850. Florida also supplied meat to the Southern Army in the War between the States. The cattle were driven from this area, where we are now, up to a railway station in North Florida. They were put on a train there and shipped to General Lee's soldiers. Then, after the War between the States, a man went to Punta Rassa and built a wharf 800 feet out into the bay at the mouth of the Caloosahatchee River below Fort Myers. The cattle were driven in large herds to that wharf, and there they were loaded on steamers or sailing schooners for the trip to Cuba.

The cattle drives started near St. Augustine. Cattlemen rounded up their cattle at certain places on the route. The buyers would buy what they wanted and herd them to Punta Rassa. Large pens were built as far apart as the cattle could walk in a day. The animals were kept in those pens for the night, while the drivers rested. The cattle drive took from thirty to fifty days. Steers would lose about 150 pounds walking that long distance.

At Punta Rassa they would load about 600 animals on a large steamer. The boat would make the trip to Havana in less than a day. Sailing vessels took longer. The prices were excellent. The sellers were paid in bright yellow gold. Two ounces of gold for three steers was about the way the prices ran.

The cattle fed on the open ranges and one man and a horse could handle 1,000 cattle, except at branding time. The Florida cowboy's chief weapon was a strong whip, twelve to eighteen feet long. It was made of buckskin that was braided and fastened to a handle about a foot to a foot and a half long. Cowboys became very skillful at using it. The pop or crack from one of those whips sounded like a rifle shot, and it could be heard a long distance. The people of Florida and Georgia are called "Crackers." They say the name comes from those whips.

We have had many struggles to reach the place we are today in cattle raising. One problem was how to get rid of the cattle tick. The state was forced by Alabama and Georgia to get rid of the tick. Those states cleared their cattle of the tick and they had no idea of letting Florida carry it back into their states. First, Georgia quarantined the state against Florida stock. That did not succeed, so Georgia built a fence 200 miles long from the Chattahoochee River to the St. Mary River between her state and Florida.

All of this caused the Florida Legislature to pass a cattle-dipping law in 1923. It was a big job to dip the cattle, for the cattle were wild and hard to handle. Some cattlemen got out of the business because they would not dip their cattle. But the dipping continued, and by 1930, Georgia and Alabama lifted their ban on Florida cattle.

Then a new problem arose. A new tick was discovered on Florida cattle. This tick was a tropical kind that also lived on deer. Then the cattlemen asked the legislature to help. In the end, all the deer were killed to get rid of the tick.

The consent of the United States Government had to be secured to kill the deer in the Big Cypress Swamp Indian Reservation. The state could not go into that area, for it is under the control of the United States Government. So a law was passed by the United States Congress granting permission to kill the deer. It also provided money to do the work. In 1941, the Florida Legislature provided $25,000 a year for restocking with healthy, tick-free deer, when they were sure all the ticks had been destroyed.

After all this struggle, cattlemen began to improve their breeds of cattle. A few had fine herds of Angus, Hereford, and Shorthorn. Angus cattle were first raised in Scotland. A Scot farmer brought some to his Kansas farm in 1873. Angus cattle have no horns. The Brahman was brought in from India in about 1850. She weighed less than 500 pounds, but she knew how to live in swamps and find her way to higher ground in wet weather. It could live where these fine cows would perish. The hump on the back of Brahman cattle is not a bone, but fat. Cattle men have found it does well in Florida. The Brahman cow could sweat. This helps it to stand hot weather, and cold weather, too. The Brahman cow is very hardy and can get its own food. It grows fast, and it can travel long distances.

Cattlemen have found that the Brahman bull crossed with a native cow produces a healthy calf that will grow up rapidly and produce good meat. The crossbred calves develop rapidly. The Brahman cattle are crossbred to every beef breed here in Florida.

Because cattlemen wanted to improve their breeds of cattle, they began to give them better care. Cattlemen began to experiment with different kinds of grasses. Experimental stations, carried on by the University of Florida, began to experiment to find which grasses are best suited to different soils and climates. Then large fields were plowed up and grass was sown. Some was sown by low-flying airplanes. Most of this airplane sowing was done between Kissimmee and Lake Okeechobee. A state-wide law that required the fencing of livestock was passed in 1949.

Development

From Budd Schulberg's "Florida" chapter in Holiday Magazine's "Panorama of America," 1960.

Florida has the oldest history and the newest population of any state in the Union. Today the Carl Fisher fever has seized the Keys. The wild cry of the gull and tern is drowned out by the roar of giant dredges coaxing the waters of the Gulf into man-made channels so that advertisements can offer "waterfront lots with your own boat dock."

Lying west of the Keys, across the island-strewn Florida Bay, the glades rolling west of Homestead, the unofficial Everglades capital, are being cleared, drained and reclaimed into black muck-rich farming lands. In the Everglades country in February 1955 building lots between Sarasota and Ft. Myers were offered for $250. Three months later those bargains had been painted out. The choice, newly cleared palmetto waste extending from the highway to the Gulf was selling by the foot now, and the little towns were doubling, tripling and quadrupling their populations.

Dan Beard, worthy descendent of the founder of the Boy Scouts, is a scholarly outdoorsman who first dreamed of an Everglades National Park when he was sent here on a survey twenty years ago. He was convinced that if this strange wonderland were not protected by Government purchase and National Park Rangers, it would eventually become just another piece of Florida real estate.

One night my wife and I were trying to reach Collier City, still a primitive fishing port on the lower West Coast. The dirt road grew bumpier, rockier and narrower and finally, along the waterfront, became impassable. A sign said "Road under construction" but the legend under it wasn't "Proceed at your own risk." Instead it was, "A sign of progress."

Hunting

From Cal Stone's memoir Forty Years in the Everglades.

(Stone took an anti-hunting "naturalist" into the swamp who refused freshly-killed venison in favor of bacon and berated him thusly:)

"Well, I guess that I really don't understand you because I don't think I took unfair advantage of that deer at all. We were tromping through heavy, swampy ground when that deer jumped out. I could just barely get a glimpse of him. When I shot him, he must have been running 40 miles an hour. If I hadn't been an experienced hunter, I could never have hit him. I don't see where I was taking an unfair advantage."

He sat there eating that bacon with the fat running down his chin.

"How do you think that bacon got there?" I asked him. "Do you think that it grew on a tree? Somebody killed a hog for it. You probably eat chicken. You said that you eat beef. Those animals die just like the hog that went to make that bacon, tens of thousands of them every day. Why, by the time they get to your table, they are not nearly as fresh as that deer meat and yet you'll pay dearly for the privilege of eating them. I can't understand why anyone would turn down something as perfect as deer meat.

"Has it ever occurred to you that venison and wild turkey, quail and wild hog and other game literally built this country? When the pioneers settled the United States, thousands of people depended for their lives on wild game. Smart people, statesmen and presidents, hell, everybody was raised on it. Don't get me wrong, if you don't care for the sport of hunting or if you are a vegetarian who doesn't believe that meat is good food, I can see your point of view, but to say that you don't want to eat meat when you have seen it killed or just because it wasn't slaughtered in some rendering factory, good God almighty, what kind of screwball reasoning is that?"