The Magical Fakahatchee Strand

For all those interested in books and movies, here’s a head’s up. The Fakahatchee Strand is the subject of a wonderful read by Susan Orleans, The Orchid Thief. That best-selling non-fiction work, which tells the true story of a fanatical orchid collector named John Laroche and his plan to poach the Fakahatchee’s rare plants, was made into the first-class movie, Adaptation, starring Nicholas Cage, Meryl Streep, and Chris Cooper. My advice is to read the book first, then see the movie. Both are worthy of your time and both will give you a feel for the mysterious attraction of the Fakahatchee Strand.

The word strand used above indicates a type of forested swamp found only in southwest Florida. From the air, because of their geographically elongated and finger-like natures, these forest environments may appear to be typical river swamps. But they are situated on long, narrow and nearly level depressions in limestone or even in the relatively unconsolidated sandy surfaces rather than associated with stream channels incised into bedrock or alluvial sediments by means of mechanical erosion.

The topography of south Florida is exceedingly flat therefore natural surface water flows in the strands are so reduced in physical characteristics that they are difficult to measure, especially during low-water periods. Owing to their reduced flow characteristics, the locals usually call those watercourses sloughs, though that term is far from accurate since it conjures up images of abandoned or former stream channels along the Mississippi or other rivers in areas of low-relief that are unrelated to the wetlands of south Florida. During periods of high water infiltration, water in the strand or slough simply spreads out laterally into adjacent wetlands rather than flowing downstream at an increased rate, as would be found in a more typical stream channel.

The origin of strands is imperfectly understood but chemical attack of the limestone via weak carbonic and humic acids in the water is probably the main weathering agent. Once small depressions or joints in the limestone are exposed they fill with organic debris, leaf litter, twigs, animal carcasses, etc., that decompose and produce additional organic acids that continue to attack and dissolve the limestone, deepening the original depression and in the process eventually forming peat. The next step is for baldcypress seedlings to find a comfortable spot in the humus and put out roots that press into and then break up the small limestone fissures through powerful mechanical action, accelerating the deepening of the rock depressions. Naturally, peat accumulation continues, ever so slowly elevating parts of the area above the local water level. If fire does not sweep through and destroy that tiny upland, larger trees, including hardwoods such as swamp laurel, pop ash, and red maple, will colonize the area and eventually replace the baldcypress. Given enough time, that is.

As a result of the unequal weathering of the limestone base rock in the developing strand, the micro-topography can vary considerably, providing numerous niche environments that support a very diverse mixture of trees, shrubs, vines, and epiphytes. Consequently, ecosystems found in strands can range from relatively dry hammocks to standing water “sloughs” that appear to the casual observer to be ordinary riverine swamps. But their diversity takes them far from the realm of anything that can be classed as ordinary.

The overwhelming majority of strands in Florida are in the Big Cypress. Today, the largest include Corkscrew Swamp, the forty-mile long Okaloaoochee Slough, Kissimmee Billy Strand, Deep Lake Strand, Roberts Lake Strand, and Gum Slough. The latter two are found within the borders of Everglades National Park, just south of U.S. Route 41. In the recent past, those forests were but a few of the great strands that now are but faded memories on USGS topo maps. Picayune. Sweetwater. Camp Keais. Gator Hook. East Hinson. Gannett. Big Goddens. Skillet. Georges. New River. All were cleared of their old-growth timber and altered, perhaps forever, as the wonderfully complex ecosystems they once were. Timbering practices were so methodical that the really large strand baldcypress were girdled a year before harvesting and left to dry prior to being cut down and hauled out the tram roads to the railroads and then the lumber mills.

Considering that all baldcypress eight inches in diameter and 30 feet high were up for grabs, it’s a near miracle that any survive today. What do survive are the prominent landscape scars that mar the Fakahatchee Strand’s former pristine beauty. Miles and miles of raised roadbeds were constructed for the tramways, actually miniature railroads, that were used to gain access to and remove the logged baldcypress. The one poignant note is that grid of roads remains and provides the most convenient access to the farthest reaches of the Strand.

The removal of virgin-growth baldcypress was far from the last of man’s insults to the Fakahatchee. The history of the Fakahatchee’s problem didn't stop when the last cypress log was dragged out in the mid-1950s. To get to the heart of the story, we have to travel 60 miles north and west to Ft. Myers and find out how the Big Cypress, of which the Fakahatchee is but a small part, was assaulted in the name of profit.

It was the mid-1950s when Jack and Leonard Rosen, two high-pressure hair conditioner (for balding men) salesmen from Baltimore, came to Ft. Myers and decided to take advantage of the sub-tropical climate and sell real estate with a vengeance. In 1957 they set up the General American Land Corporation, purchased something in the ballpark of 115 square miles of land just outside Ft. Myers, a location then known as Redfish Point, and subdivided it into thousands of small lots.

The brothers immediately kicked off a national marketing campaign that resulted in the sale of nearly all of their 350,000 residential building sites. The greater majority of the lots were purchased by unsophisticated blue-collar workers looking to retire to a life of leisure in sunny Florida. That was the start of the community of Cape Coral, which eventually included more than 400 miles of nasty smelling finger canals. Waterfront property, naturally, commands a higher value than land locked property. So, every mile of canal that could be dug was. To hell with such trivial matters as proper gradients and hydrologic flushing. When the water in the canals fermented into a witch's brew and stank to high heaven, the Rosens would be long gone. In the conspicuous absence of State regulatory agencies that were interested in protecting either the environment or the less than sophisticated buyers, the principle of caveat emptor (Latin for: let the buyer beware) ruled the day.

After that huge financial success, the Rosen brothers turned their greedy eyes southward and saw not environmentally sensitive wetlands but more opportunities to make big bucks. With their profits from Cape Coral they acquired about 115,000 acres east of Naples at the western edge of the Big Cypress Swamp. The property included wetlands that abutted and drained the Fakahatchee Strand. With a flair for overstatement that seems to infect every Florida real estate entrepreneur, they named their new development Golden Gate Estates.

Originally, when the Rosens’ company, Gulf American Corporation (the word Land had been dropped in the first years of operation), set out to develop the Southern Golden Gate Estates (SGGE) in the early 1960s, no effective State or Federal laws established or enforced drainage standards or regulated wetland development. Naturally, the State wasn't interested since developers were the largest contributors to most political campaigns, therefore creating effective State laws regulating the real estate industry was definitely not on the list of things to do, at least not for anyone in Tallahassee. And the State's counties were so desperate for development, meaning tax base, they positioned themselves in front of the developers, bent over as far as they couldm, dropped their pants, and assumed the position of submission. So, with no governmental controls in sight and none on the horizon, Gulf American built a grid of shell-lime rock roads 300 miles in extent and dredged 50 or so miles of canals to drain the swamps and wetlands, much of which were normally under several feet of water for many months at a time. The resulting canal system reached as far north as Lake Trafford, tied into the Golden Gate drainage system to the northwest, and emptied into the Faka Union Bay in the south.

For several years GAC seemed very successful, selling thousands of unimproved lots in the SGGE to unsophisticated and unsuspecting buyers from around the world (Author’s Note: Leonard and Jack realized from their Cape Coral experience that the development of real communities cost much more than simply selling lots so intentionally installed no permanent roads, sewers, water mains, street lights, or other community amenities in SGGE). Their sales tactics included almost every type of classic high-pressure and underhanded technique, offering "free" trips to Florida, free steak dinners, or free movies. Prospective buyers of SGGE lots throughout the world (at the end GAC had 123,000 customers from 60 countries) were treated to the classic bait and switch sales tactics by being shown photographs of Cape Coral, with paved streets, schools, churches, water and sewer, etc., none of which would ever be part of SGGE. The brothers were so successful early in the 1960s that Gulf American began its next development project, Remuda Ranch Grants in south Florida. Only problem was that the land they wanted to sell, about 80,000 acres, was 80 percent underwater throughout much of the year. Hey, no problem. Sell fast and get out fast was the Rosens’ modus operandi.

So, inquisitive Readers might wonder, how did the Rosens pull off those outrageous land scams? It wasn't because they operated in the dark since they were a publicly traded corporation and their actions were overseen by the Florida Installment Land Sales Board (FILSB), a State regulatory agency. Perceptive Readers who guessed they did it by applying tons of political grease wouldn't be wrong. Remember, we talking live-and-let-live Florida.

When Haydon Burns, the mayor of Jacksonville and Leonard Rosen's best friend, became governor of Florida in 1964, he appointed two Gulf American officials to the FILSB, one of which was none other than Leonard Rosen himself. Later, Burns appointed two other people to the Board who did business with Gulf American. In effect, the FILSB was controlled by one of the very land development companies it was supposed to regulate. As anyone with a functioning brain can imagine, official complaints filed with the FILSB against Gulf American hit a concrete wall and disintegrated.

But the shit hit the fan in 1966 when the first Republican in 95 years was elected Governor, dealing a severe blow to the Rosens' influence in Tallahassee. Claude R. Kirk Jr. soon realized that the extensive media coverage spotlighting Gulf American's shameful record of land fraud, unethical, and blatantly illegal sales tactics gave him the perfect opportunity to send a message to the real estate community at large and to the Rosens in particular (who had made the unforgivable mistake of publicly supporting his Democratic opponent). Acting in concert with the Legislature, Kirk eliminated the FILSB in 1967 and replaced it with the Florida Land Sales Board, a seven-member body where only a minority of members could be active developers.

Subsequent events would surprise no one familiar with politics in the Sunshine State. Leonard Rosen, certainly understanding the nature of the precipice on which he was standing, threatened to blackmail the chairman of the State Development Commission with certain scandalous information unless the State cancelled an investigation into Gulf American's sales practices. Recognizing a golden political opportunity when he saw it, Governor Kirk called a news conference in October 1967 and almost gleefully announced the blackmail attempt, excoriating it "an example of the extent to which this company had gone to subvert the process of government in Florida." Needless to say, the investigation went forward and Leonard Rosen crawled back into his hole. Gulf American surprised nearly everyone by pleading guilty to five counts of misleading sales techniques that included:

• Changing lot locations on deeds purchased by customers without their consent or knowledge
• Intentional misrepresentations of material facts by sales agents
• Failure to notify the Land Sales Board when replatting subdivisions (and thereby changing the sizes, shapes, number, and locations of sold lots)

Although the convictions were minor, they spelled the downfall of the Rosens and their Gulf American Corporation. Not long after that the bloom faded from the rose and financial times grew hard. In the midst of fresh State investigations into land sales fraud and the threat of new indictments, the newly created state Land Sales Board flexed its political muscles and refused to accept subdivision applications from Gulf American. The handwriting was on the wall for everyone to read.

In July 1968, Leonard Rosen resigned from the Gulf American Board of Directors. About a week later the company announced it was merging with the GAC Corporation, a holding company of the General Acceptance Corporation, a Pennsylvania mortgage lender, for more than $200 million in stock. Naturally, the Rosens remained on board as paid consultants. When the merger was completed the following year, the Rosens were given GAC stock worth about $58 million. Since their original 1957 investment in Gulf American was $125,000, it wasn't a bad rate-of-return.

But snakes remain snakes even when their ownership changes. The sales tactics instituted by the Rosens continued under GAC management, resulting in numerous consumer allegations of fraud. But the Land Sales Board was looking for any excuse to come down on unethical development firms (especially those whose executives had foolishly supported the losing Democratic gubernatorial candidate) and began enforcing regulations with a vengeance. Barely six years later GAC bit the bullet and turned belly up. It was Chapter 11 time. The rats deserted the sinking ship in 1975 as the company filed for bankruptcy protection, leaving nearly 700,000 acres of largely unimproved swampland in the incapable hands of the 17,000 dumb as dirt landowners scattered across so many countries it was hard to keep track of them. It was Florida land speculation at its very worst. Conscienceless developers, an originally moribund State real estate enforcement arm, and non-existent State or County regulatory bodies serious about protecting the environment had combined to ensure that a savage blow was dealt to the Big Cypress.

As a result of the Rosens' and later GAC's lack of environmental stewardship, development efforts in the Southern Golden Gate Estates dramatically altered the natural landscape of the western Big Cypress. The construction of the system of drainage canals lowered the water table by four feet or more, turning what was once a healthy cypress wetland into a distressed and weakened environment that became an easy target for waves of exotic and nuisance plants and one fire after another.

And once you think you've heard it all, something even uglier pops up. For nearly a decade, the State had been working with the Federal government to acquire land south of Interstate 75 as part of the Everglades (and Big Cypress) Restoration effort. Since the late 1990s, the State purchased about 52,000 acres of land that was part of the Rosens' infamous Southern Golden Gate Estates. In mid-2003, the actions of greedy speculators and faulty Collier County land acquisition procedures led the State to indefinitely postpone a key land buy in the SGGE after learning that speculators had positioned themselves to profit handsomely from State Everglades restoration efforts.

The problem is fairly simple if you follow the process step by step. Since Southern Golden Gate Estates had never developed as planned, most property owners owed tons of back taxes. Owners in the SGGE typically failed to pay taxes for the simple reason that the assessments were more than the property was worth, especially since the "subdivision" had no paved roads and no utilities, meaning no water, no sewers, no gas, and no electricity. Consequently, Collier County periodically seized land for non-payment and put it up for auction, where the State bought it, basically for the back taxes that were owed. In the mid-2000s, speculators outbid the State for the auctioned properties because State law restricts State agencies from bidding higher than 125 percent of the appraised value. The speculators then submitted applications to the County to subdivide the land into numerous building lots, thus dramatically raising its supposed market value.

After the land was subdivided, the properties were then offered by speculators to the State for a considerably higher amount than was paid at auction. If the State balked and refused to pay the exorbitant price, its only option was to file an eminent domain condemnation or leave the lots in private ownership, which would defeat their objective of preserving the area from development. That process ultimately had the potential of costing the State a great deal more money than it had anticipated. Because it would be forced to file a lawsuit on each recorded lot or buy each lot separately. That's what you call a scam of the boldest sort.

Faka Union Bay, an estuary in the Ten Thousand Islands National Aquatic Preserve in southwest Florida, is today fed by the GAC canal system that has been draining a 16,000 square mile area of the western Big Cypress into the estuary since its construction more than 30 years ago. Current average annual flow into the Bay is approximately 100 times the volume of water it had received prior to construction of the canal system. That influx of fresh water dramatically dried down the Fakahatchee and also depressed the salinity of Faka-Union Bay, thus severely damaging the estuarine ecosystem.

The combination of those twin negative effects is the main reason the State and Federal governments are trying to plug the canals and restore the surface drainage to as close to a pre-development condition as is possible. And believe me that is not an easy task, no matter what environmental activists say. Not in Florida, where every cracker or peckerwood who owns a piece of land expects it to be his personal bank account. At this point Readers should remember the Land-is-Money Quadruplets: Hamilton Disston, Henry Flagler, Ed Ball, and Barron Gift Collier Senior. They set the stage for today's avaricious expectations.

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With the above materials as background, the largest, most biologically diverse, and easily most fascinating mixed swamp forest in the Big Cypress and perhaps in all Florida, is the Fakahatchee Strand. The Strand runs in a north to south direction from just north of I-75 to the Tamiami Trail/U.S. 41. Many biologists claim that the Fakahatchee is absolutely unrivaled in its numerous unusual and rare plants and animals and its otherworldly beauty. Nowhere in the United States, with the exception of Puerto Rico, can visitors find anything like the rain forests of the tropics.

Fakahatchee, a Miccosukee word meaning forked river, is a 100,000-acre, elongated strip of mixed swamp forest of cypress and hardwoods. It constitutes the Big Cypress's heart and soul. At twenty-five miles long and seven miles wide it is easily the largest such strand forest in the United States. Its stand of native Florida royal palm is the largest in the country and forms the world's only royal palm-baldcypress forest association.

Sad to say, the magnificent baldcypress are long gone, having been logged out in the late 1940s and early 1950s. But, miracle of miracles, despite the mindless destruction wrought by the timber companies and the terrible fires that swept through it in the fifties, sixties, and seventies, the Fakahatchee remains a captivating and wonderfully wild place. It is far and away one of the premier wetlands in the United States. Existing species include baldcypress, pond cypress, red maple, oak, willow, pop ash, swamp laurel oak, strangler fig, gumbo-limbo and numerous other swamp hardwoods, cabbage and royal palms, and at least 39 species of native orchids, some of which are found nowhere else in the world. Remember Susan Orleans and The Orchid Thief?

For anyone with even the slightest interest in natural history, the Fakahatchee is a magical place, literally bursting with wonders that bestow on it one of the highest densities of rare plants in Florida. The sheer biological splendor found in its permanent interior lagoons and ponds have stunned even professional botanists who have studied the Fakahatchee. Nearly 500 species of plants have been recorded there, many of which are rare or endangered. Where the forest canopy opens up over good-sized lagoons, the trees above are so filled with bromeliads that the branches are almost totally hidden from view by enormous pincushions of wild-pine. It's a remarkable and unforgettable sight, one few other than dedicated biologists or nature photographers have seen. But it's there if you but possess the desire and the determination. Remember, desire alone is never sufficient. Determination rules in all things and beats unapplied intelligence hands down. It's no coincidence that 'C' students run this and every other country in the world. In my humble opinion, when the chips are down shear determination to succeed almost always kicks the shit out of raw intelligence. Key phrase: almost always.

Speaking of rare and endangered species in the Fakahatchee, road kills of the seldom seen Florida panther are concentrated along two adjacent highways, Interstate 75 (the section running east-west between Golden Gate and Weston) and State Route 29. Both of those locations are immediately adjacent to the Strand and the Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge, which actually includes the northern part of the Fakahatchee. The greater majority of panther kills in Florida occurs where highways cross sizable swamps. The conclusion is painfully obvious. Panthers are well adapted to wetland conditions and poorly adapted to modern transportation arteries. Faced with the very real threat of extinction, in a sense it's too bad we can't keep these gorgeous creatures confined to places where they will be safe. But as wild animals they recognize no boundaries, not even those of state or Federal highways.

In the 1980s, a large tract of private property just north of the Strand was scheduled for development into rural housing tracts to accommodate the almost insatiable demand in Collier County for residential units (remember that Collier County was one of the fastest growing areas in the nation). The developer's plans were rendered moot when the Federal government established the 30,000-acre Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge in an effort to protect both wildlife and habitat.

Public access to the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park couldn't be easier, even for the geographically challenged. From Naples simply take the Tamiami Trail/U.S. Route 41 south and east to the intersection of Florida Route 29. Turn north on Route 29 and go just a few miles to a narrow, largely unpaved road, Janes Memorial Drive, which winds through the southern section of the Strand.

Casual visitors can relax in the air-conditioned comfort of their cars and be content to make the circuit and return to civilization without breaking into a sweat. But once there, my strongest advice is to park and at least take a short walk into the Strand along one of the old logging roads and tramways that were used in the 1940s and 1950s to haul out the giant baldcypress logs. Despite their terrible history, these old roads, now trails overgrown with ferns, buttonbush, tropical shrubs, pop ash, or cypress, are very useful in providing access into the deepest parts of the Fakahatchee.

Who knows what thrills you will find once you screw up your courage and enjoy a hike into the past. Remember, the orchids bloom through every season, wet and dry, and are waiting to bring smiles and expressions of awe and amazement to your pretty face. Of the 16 bromeliad species that are native to Florida, 14 are found in the Fakahatchee Strand as are 44 native orchids, making it the bromeliad capital of North America. Which, of course, is why John Laroche, the real Orchid Thief, made it his principal target. Among them is the legendary ghost orchid—Dendrophylax lindenii. Leafless with bright white spindly, curvilinear petals on slender spikes, the flower seems to float ghostlike in the air. Photographs will take your breath away but seeing one in its natural setting is heart stopping. Really. It was the ghost orchid that Laroche sought most fanatically and that provided the centerpiece of Susan Orlean’s terrific book.

The interior of the Fakahatchee is wet throughout most of the year, with water depths ranging from ankle and calf deep to chest deep, depending on the season. However, if you're not careful you can stumble into water holes well over five feet in depth. Which is why I strongly recommend that serious explorers carry a sturdy six-foot long walking stick to poke into suspiciously deep spots or to ward off various unwanted critters, should they appear.

For those who want to keep their feet and everything else high and dry, the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park's interpretive facilities include an 850-foot hard-surfaced trail leading to a 2,000 foot elevated Big Cypress Bend boardwalk. The interpretive center is located on U.S. 41 at Big Cypress Bend, about seven miles west of State Route 29. For the geographically challenged, that means seven miles closer to Naples than the intersection of Highway 41 and Route 29. That trail system begins at a Native American (Seminole) exhibit and winds through some of the most incredible virgin baldcypress found in the Big Cypress Basin, excluding of course the magnificent champions in residence at Corkscrew Swamp.

For those slightly hardier souls, you might consider taking the "wet" guided tour in winter, which is the dry season, a choice that will keep you relatively dry and still provide legitimate bragging rights over your less adventuresome friends, unrepentant couch potatoes they may be. If you do visit the Fakahatchee, bring along industrial strength mosquito repellant. You'll need it.

Since we don't live in a perfect world, you Gentle Readers need to know about another serious problem that has recently attacked the Fakahatchee. According to information found on the University of Florida Department of Entomology and Nematology’s Featured Creature website, a species of Mexican bromeliad weevil, Metamasius callizona (Chevrolat), was first spotted in Florida in 1989 at a Ft. Lauderdale nursery. The best guess is that the weevils were brought into the State hidden in a shipment of bromeliads imported from Mexico. Although the nursery was doused with pesticides, within two months the weevil was identified in northern Broward County and southern Palm Beach County. Within two years the weevil had been found in four south Florida counties. The first report of the weevil in Collier County was in 1996, in Immokalee. Other sightings in Collier County have been reported at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, at the corner of Vanderbilt Drive and Bluebill Avenue in North Naples, and in an environmental preserve area in the Mediterra subdivision. According to the indefatigable weevil watchers, the evil weevil (as it is known locally) was confirmed in the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park in March 2002.

That’s very bad news because 11 of Florida’s 16 species of native bromeliads are at risk from attack by the Mexican bromeliad weevil. All of those species are found in the Fakahatchee Strand. Ten of those 11 species are endangered or threatened. The species, Catopsis nutans, is found nowhere else in Florida and several other rare bromeliads are found in few places outside of the Fakahatchee Strand. According to botanists, in Florida the evil weevil seems to target the giant airplant (also known as the giant wild pine), the cardinal airplant, and the twisted airplant, all of which have been declared endangered under Florida law. As of 2009, the presence of the Mexican weevil was confirmed in 22 Florida counties.

The biomechanics of bromeliad destruction are simple. The female weevil lays eggs in the larger bromeliads. As the larvae grow, they primarily feed on leaves but have also been observed feeding on bromeliad flowers. As they progress toward to the base of the stem they tunnel into the stem tissue, producing large holes that can result in the plant being dislodged from its support structure, causing the plant to fall to the ground and die. That removes the plant as a source for new bromeliads, causing a cascading effect as more and more bromeliads die and fewer seed sources remain. At the latest count, the weevil has left a path of bromeliad destruction on private and public land in 18 counties in south Florida. With no end in sight.

In its indigenous Mexican/Central American habitat, the weevil seldom causes sufficient damage to its bromeliad host populations to warrant management efforts. Therefore, it is not considered a pest. One of the main reasons is that insects like the weevil almost always have predators in its indigenous environment that keep its populations in check. However, when an insect emigrates from its original habitat it leaves those predators behind. Therefore its population may increase exponentially if environmental conditions are appropriate, meaning there are few or no predators around with a taste for its juicy insides. And if it finds a food source to its liking. Meaning, in this case, bromeliads. If those conditions prevail, then it becomes an exotic pest. Which, in a nutshell, is the situation in south Florida with the Mexican bromeliad weevil.

Author’s Note: Why are so many professional and amateur biologists and botanists in a tizzy over one little weevil? Because bromeliads play a unique role in health of many south Florida ecosystems, especially that of the Fakahatchee. The shape of the plants allows water to be collected and cupped between its leaves, giving frogs and birds a source of moisture and a source of prey when the rest of the swamp withers during the dry season. Some insects are so adapted to bromeliads that their entire lives are spent within their confines. Without bromeliads the whole ecosystem is in danger of being horribly altered and even of collapsing.

So, other than hand-wringing, cursing, and name calling what's being done to address the problem? The University of Florida’s above named Department of Entomology and Nematology is conducting research aimed at developing a natural predator from Central America as a biological control for the weevil. A parasitic tachinid fly (Lixophaga sp.) of the genus Admontia from Honduras, one of the weevil’s natural enemies, has been identified and is being investigated for use as a predator. The fly lays its larvae in bromeliads under attack by the weevil larvae. In the resulting war between the two larvae, the fly wins. At least that’s how it happens in nature.

When this material was written (in early-2006), University of Florida entomologists had discovered the right combination of factors needed to raise the flies in a quarantined lab. And that was a necessary first step since hundreds of flies were needed for tests to convince regulators at the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services that the flies would not attack other native species of weevil and cause as of yet unforeseen environmental damage. A strong fly colony was established at the U of F quarantine facility and Federal and State release permits were issued in 2007. Releases began at the end of June 2007 and are planned to be continued in some Federal Preserves and State and county parks with concurrent evaluation.

Implications

In the hopefully event a number of you Gentle Readers managed to doze absentmindedly through most of this section on southwest Florida, I'd like to close with a final word before we leave the Fakahatchee. The Fakahatchee Strand exists only because it was saved after most of the baldcypress had been removed. The remaining ecosystem was simply too beautiful to throw away. Today, in what is truly the eleventh hour for most of Florida’s surviving natural systems, do we have the luxury of waiting to commit ourselves to preservation?

The Fakahatchee Strand State Park, Collier-Seminole State Park, the Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge, the Big Cypress Preserve, and Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary are here today for one reason only. Because they were preserved from the ruthless exploitation of land developers. The individual and specific mechanisms of preservation were slightly different in that the State, Federal government, and non-governmental organizations were involved separately. But in the final analysis the only thing that saved those natural areas for posterity was their removal from private ownership. Keeping environmentally sensitive Florida lands in private ownership simply invites their destruction. Why? Because the State has historically been unable to muster the courage to stand up to their paymasters, the powerbrokers. That's the lesson the Big Cypress, Fakahatchee Strand State Park, the Big Cypress Preserve, and Corkscrew Swamp teach us, if we're open to listening and learning.