That residents of Florida have become accustomed to the unusual is understandable. In recent years, it appears our beloved Sunshine State has become the epicenter for all things odd and sensational. Election woes, skunk apes, and an occasional appearance by the Virgin Mary can all take a mental toll. Preserving what remains of our collective sanity likely mandates a reasonable strategy of not scrutinizing too deeply that which is quirky, mysterious or downright bizarre.
South Florida, in particular, is rife with unexplained oddities. Though most people find this apparent, a quick glance at a map of our fair state provides further proof. We’re surrounded by oddly-christened places like the Fakahatchee Strand, Chokoloskee, Biscayne Bay, Caxambas, Marco and the Everglades. These strange names quickly play upon the imaginations of our visitors yet, in our own vernacular, these words scarcely raise a hint of interest. Rather, these topographic tongue-twisters simply become commonplace labels affixed to routinely visited institutions of our daily lives.
The unique character of our landscape extends to our public lands. South Florida boasts four distinct units of the National Park Service—Everglades, Biscayne and Dry Tortugas National Parks and Big Cypress National Preserve. Such an assemblage is not usually found nestled within a community of six million people. The boundaries of these special places help protect an amazing tapestry of natural and cultural history. Within these parks numerous islands, bays, rivers, trails, campsites, reefs, and structures also bear names of dubious origin.
Exploring the history of place names in our South Florida national parks has become my passion over the last three years. During that time, I researched the origins of over 400 monikers in these amazing areas. Hell’s Bay, Snake Bight, Mormon Key— for me its difficult not to wonder why these areas receive such billing. I have found that each provides a key to understanding the larger mosaic of history that has unfurled in these areas over the years. Doing so can also provide insight into our own existence in the Sunshine State.
A close examination of our “toponyms”, for example, clearly shows that South Florida was a land of diverse immigrants long before the rise of any Caribbean dictator. Boca Chita Key, Lopez River and Alligator Creek, for example, provide evidence of early Spanish influence. The influence of the English is similarly preserved at many locales including Chatham Bend, Sandwich Cove and Hawk Channel. Among the Ten Thousand Islands, Chevelier Bay provides silent testimony that the French were also represented here.
Though the European experience in South Florida is well documented, preserving the stories of Native Americans, African Americans and Bahamian islanders in these areas has always been a challenge. Still, many of the place names still used today provide evidence of their occurrence. Caesar’s Creek, Rankin Bight and the Gumbo Limbo Trail (the latter believed to be a derivative of a Bantu language) all commemorate different facets of the African American experience here, including slavery, piracy and prohibition. Places like the Arsnicker Keys and Porjoe Key help preserve the colorful culture imparted by Bahamian fishermen along the Florida reef. And a whole host of cryptic names, including Pahayokee, Okaloacoochee Slough, and Dr. Tiger Hammock, help remind us of the historic reach and influence of Native American people, both past and present.
It comes as no news flash that the Florida Everglades has been dammed, diked, dredged and drained into an unrecognizable puzzle of impoundments, agriculture and development. And while much of the wildlife that once called the Everglades home has since dwindled or disappeared, some have forever documented their presence by inspiring numerous place names. Loggerhead Key, for example, is an important nesting site for a Federally threatened sea turtle by the same name. Rookery Branch is named for the amazing colonies of wading birds that historically gathered there to nest. And Man of War Key earned its moniker for the profusion of magnificent frigate birds that once circled high above the island.
Such names can not only remind us of what once was, but also help guide us in future management. Currently, we are in the midst of an estimated $10.8 billion restoration effort—the largest hydrologic project in the world. Decades down the line, the reappearance of bald eagles on Eagle Key, or the profusion of wood storks in Gannet Strand, or the reemergence of cattails on the Cattail Lakes may all provide evidence of an ecosystem in recovery.
Some place names help remind us how similar our present is to our past. Hurricane Creek hearkens back to a time when pioneer families, rather then flee oncoming hurricanes, took to wooden vessels nestled in the mangroves to ride out nature’s fury. Mosquito Point reminds us of a time when our predecessors braved many hardships and annoyances to eek out an existence in this subtropical landscape. And Loop Road reminds us how even the best plans of building a metropolis in the middle of a swamp can prove to be pure folly.
Indeed, there is great meaning behind the place names of South Florida’s national parks. They help illuminate our natural and cultural heritage, and help us better understand our own experience in paradise. Fortunately, it appears our past has always been tinged with a hint of sheer insanity, and I see no need to worry about it now. So don’t avoid that which is odd, quirky or mysterious, fellow residents—it appears we’re only following tradition!
-- Larry Perez is a lifelong resident of South Florida and author of the new book, Words on the Wilderness: A History of Place Names in South Florida’s National Parks. He may be contacted at www.wordsonthewilderness.com
