Kanapaha Prairie: Recalling a Legacy of Freedom

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                                    Kanapaha Prairie: Recalling a Legacy of Freedom

Kanapaha is one of many ancient depressional prairies in North Central Florida. The largest and famous of these is, of course, Payne's Prairie, immediately south of Gainesville-- described extensively by William Bartram in the 18th century as "The Alachua Savanna".

One of my field site: Kanapaha Prairie (picture (c) Chris Wilson 2012)

 Bartram extolled this part of Florida as a landscape dotted by numerous such grassy savanna's, but dominated by pine savanna and mixed hardwood hammocks-- full of oaks, magnolias, hickories, wild citrus and so on. The Seminole Indians, descendents of lower Creek groups, moved into the area in the early 1700's, displacing the last of the Floridian tribe remnants (e.g. Timicuans) and the Spanish outposts that had earlier assured their demise through disease, and attrition. 

Hardwood Hammock adjacent prairie (picture (c) Chris Wilson 2012)

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The Seminole thrived in this land of great abundance of wild game, birds and fish- replete with numerous freshwater springs and healthy, clear-running rivers. They became great cattle and horse people as well, herding the naturalized populations of these beasts originally introduced by Ponce De Leon in the early 1500's. Forage for their beasts was furnished primarily by these numerous savanna openings. These resources were supplemented by the grazing available in the open pine savannas, and the edges around the hardwood hammocks. Bartram described the horses and cattle as small and sleek- admirably adapted to the vagaries of this environment.

 

Cracker Cattle at Kanapaha (picture (c) Chris Wilson 2012)

The cattle shown in these pictures are "pure stock" of the "Spanish Colonial Cattle", otherwise known as "Cracker Cattle", the most direct descendants of the Seminole cattle, and a link to this cultural history. Like their forebears, they are small, horned, and hardy animals. They calve easily without assistance and their mothering instincts are strong and effective. These beasts know how to stay alive in a tough, predator-rich environment.

As the plantation economies grew in the Cherokee lands to the north, in Georgia, the political role of Florida’s Seminole territory became significant. They were a fierce, proud people- passionately devoted to their hard-won lands. Numerous African slaves began to escape their lot in Georgia and North Carolina, as the conditions of their chattel slavery became more brutal. Over the decades, a large population of these escaped “maroons” established themselves alongside the Seminole in North Florida.

Great old Live Oak (picture (c) Chris Wilson 2012)

Together, the maroons and Seminole hunted, fished, managed their lands with frequent fires, and practiced traditional polycultural field agriculture. The Seminole, too, sometimes practiced slavery, but the terms were ordinarily relaxed. “Slaves” were most often allowed to set up shop, marry, and profit from the proceeds of their own work- so long as they paid a moderate tax to their erstwhile masters.

For the span of a few decades, Florida was thus a potent symbol of freedom and resistance. For many, it represented the chance to create a new society and lead a dignified and free life. The US government’s war on the Seminole in the early-mid 1800’s stretched for decades as the joint resistance of the fierce Seminole and their Maroon allies proved difficult to overcome.

Whenever I set foot in one of these Prairies in my new home, I recall this legacy of freedom and resistance set amidst a tough yet abundant landscape.  For me, it symbolizes the enduring connection between human prosperity, freedom and the health of the land. 

Twin Live Oaks on Prairie (picture (c) Chris Wilson 2012)

Recommended Reading:

-William Bartram’s Travels. (Available freely online)

-Riordan, Patrick (1996). “Finding Freedom in Florida: Native Peoples, African-Americans, and Colonists, 1670-1816”. The Florida Historical Quarterly 75(1): 24-43.

-Mann, Charles (2011). 1493: Uncovering the New World Columbus Created. Knopf: New York.

A Paean to Warm-Season Grasses

A follow-up to my previous post, on the drought. I took a trip down to Nichols Arboretum, a beautiful property run by the University of Michigan. They have a restored tallgrass prairie fragment there, called "Dow Field". For you botany nerds, it was first described by Henry Gleason as he passed by on the train on his way out of town (Ann Arbor).

Dow Field, like most tallgrass prairie, is dominated by C4 grasses, especially Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii).  I wanted to see whether my idea of having C4 (warm-season) grasses as part of a pasture base could be supported by a visual inspection here (i.e. am I just full of shit?).

What I saw was encouraging, although not quite as lush as it should be this time of year. When I read the site description for Dow Field a couple years ago, I recall it mentioning the soils were droughty- so there's  reason to believe that the grass would be even healthier in a better soil. But nevertheless, check it out:

Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii). Fairly typical of the exposed portions of Dow field.

I found a seemingly inexplicable clearing in a side portion of the field. There was a layer of dead grass, with younger growth of Big Bluestem, and lots of thistle. I suspect that the Natural Areas Preservation Program may have treated the area with herbicides earlier in the season to fight "invasive" (C3) grass.

A pretty prairie flower. Don't know what it is yet! 

The next photo shows my dog, Chloe, standing next to some fresh Bluestem growth. It was looking reasonably healthy, and would be at a good time to graze- still lush and vegetative. This gives me confidence in the warm-season grasses as providing valuable diversity and resilience for pasturage and hay. Imagine what this field would look like in a better soil, with more shade, and possibly flood irrigation...

Not far from the cleared patch, I shot this photo to show the awesome height of mature Big Bluestem. This was the tall-grass prairie that impressed the early settlers of the Middle West. It was a beautiful, diverse ecosystem, intergrading on the eastern front with oak savanna, and oak-hickory and mixed deciduous woodlands. These ecosystems sustained many herds of Bison, and numerous tribes of native Americans, adapted to the periodic vagaries of an intense continental climate. Indians burned the prairies annually to facilitate hunting drives, particularly in the fall (October-November). The immense heat and smoke from these fires so intimidated the early white settlers that they coined a term "Indian summer" to refer to the fire season

Chloe and the Big Bluestem 

I know the agriculturally-minded will scoff at my faith in the utility of the warm-season grasses for hay and pasture. It is true that, normally, their growing season is shorter, and the growth coarser and lower in protein than most of the introduced cool-season grasses (e.g. bluegrass, orchardgrass, etc.) Switchgrass is already well-accepted for this role south of Ohio. I'm not suggesting that, this far north, they should be the main basis of a pasture program. But I think that handled correctly, they could contribute mightily to resilience in the face of increasing climate vagaries. For comparison's sake, check out some local, similarly unirrigated cool-season grass:

Where's the nutritive value here? 

Chris