Michael Grunwald tells the story of the Everglades and its surrounding ecosystems in The Swamp: The Everglades, Florida, and the Politics of Paradise. It's a fascinating history of southern Florida, a part of the country that many of us think we know so well. As firmly stamped as Florida - home of retirees, Mecca of tourists - is stamped in our cultural imagination, it's only relatively recently that the Sunshine State has become what it is. For much of its history, the southeastern corner of the United States was written off by many as a wasteland, a cesspit fit only for snakes and alligators. Sure, its subtropical climate frequently inspired visionaries who saw other uses for it - as an agricultural powerhouse, as a playground for the rich, as a reclaimed community of millions, linked by railways and canals - but those dreams frequently dashed against the harsh reality of the landscape.
Until, that is, technology caught up with ambition, at which point, paradise began to fall.
The story expertly weaves together the lives of Indian leaders (including the Seminoles, a people who's identity was forged by the swamps they took refuge in), settlers, scientists, politicians, and (of course, since it's Florida) shady real estate developers. It also does a fair job of incorporating the natural history of the Everglades, helping to explain to the layperson what makes this corner of America so special and so fragile.
Most of Grunwald's history is the story of man's failure to tame the Everglades, for which we should be very grateful. As it is, by the time our society had developed sufficient power to truly alter the landscape, we'd also begun to develop our first pangs of environmental conscience. The story is a tug-of-war between those who would exploit the Everglades, those who would save it, and those who have convinced themselves that it would be so easy to do both (often with tragic consequences). The Everglades has been the site of many of the most dramatic conservation battles of our nation, from the fight to save Florida's wading birds by fighting the powerful milliner industry and changing the face of women's fashion to the fight to stop the construction of what would have been our nation's largest airport... in the middle of some of Florida's last great wilderness.
If there is an overall lesson to be cleaned from The Swamp, it's that there is hope out there for our natural world. South Florida has been the most prized real estate in America for the past few decades, and we've willingly or unwillingly almost destroyed it several times. Heck, we very well still might. It's inspiring to learn the truth of how many times a dedicated group of diverse individuals - conservationists and hunters, tourists and locals, Republicans and Democrats - have worked together to try and save this wonderful ecosystem.
Virtually every zoo in Florida has exhibits that highlight the state's natural wonders. Some are truly great exhibits filled with great landscaping and incredible animals. I've highlighted many of them on this blog, and recommend a visit if you can swing it. Still, none of them are able to compare to the magic of standing on the shores of Flamingo Marina and watching manatees bob up for air while crocodiles bask in the background, or walking the Anhinga Trail while alligators bellow in the distance, or driving slowly through Big Cypress at twilight, hoping against hope that the tawny form of a panther will lope across the road.
Moments like this are magic, and it's a magic that, try as we might, we can only preserve in nature. Michael Grunwald reminds us of that magic. He shows us how we've saved a little bit of it thus far, bringing it into the 21st century. What we do with it next isn't in his book - we'll have to write that chapter ourselves.
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