murka slots Stepping Into a Hidden World in the Everglades

Deep within the seemingly endless saw-grass marshes of the Florida Everglades, I found myself standing on an unexpected speck of dry land on a bright spring day. The boat ride to this spot had fully exposed my tour group to the blustery wind and midday sun, and the island, by contrast, felt lush and welcoming, ringed by trees that cast shadows and tempered the gusts and insulated us from the elements beyond.

Betty Osceola, a member of the Miccosukee Tribe whose salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a ponytail, ushered our group into the shade of a palm-thatched structure called a chickee. “These are the traditional homes of the Miccosukee people,” she announced. She spoke slowly and deliberately for the sake of her multinational tourists in a voice flecked with her native Elaponke, accentuating key words with hand gestures. Her people once lived on “tree islands” like this one, and they continue to tend their ancestral homes. That morning, she’d lit a fire, and the pit’s smoldering embers made the island feel as if its inhabitants had merely stepped away and might return at any time.

ImageBetty Osceola, a Miccosukee tribal judge and an environmental activist, owns Buffalo Tiger Airboat Tours.Credit...Scott McIntyre for The New York TimesImageA palm-thatched structure called a chickee.Credit...Scott McIntyre for The New York Times

During the Seminole Wars of the 1800s, in which U.S. forces fought to expel tribes from Florida, the Miccosukee and their kin, the Seminoles, eluded capture by hiding on tree islands, which are formed by sediment accumulating in roots. They remained there well into the 20th century, their villages accessible only by canoe until the 1920s.

Unlike those early inhabitants, we had arrived at the island on an airboat. After leaving Ms. Osceola’s dock on the mainland, we spent about 15 minutes navigating a labyrinth of shoulder-high vegetation, gawking at the occasional alligator, before reaching an unmarked point in that vast, grassy sea where we veered right into a thicket of willow, and one thatched roof after another came into view. This secluded spot was where William Buffalo Tiger, the first elected chairman after federal recognition in 1962, once lived.

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