Know Your Neighbours: The Shell People

December 05-January 2006

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
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by Bryan Nichols

The landing spot on what is probably the former center of Calusa culture, now barely big enough for a kayak.

Thousands of years of ago, the low coastal areas of South Florida were home to a mini-empire run by the Calusa. Described by the Spanish as a fierce people, they managed to build a stable society with little or no dependence on agriculture.

Sound familiar? It should, since it happened in other parts of North America as well. Settling down without serious farming is exceedingly rare and can only happen in areas that are ecologically rich. To pull it off, a society needs to figure out how to harvest foods in abundant but sustainable amounts. On the great plains, if you wanted to feed large numbers of people you either had to tame a plant and start farming, or follow the bison around. Studies have shown that North American plants aren’t especially suitable for domestication, so the people remained as nomadic hunter- gatherers until Europeans arrived.

The coastal estuaries of South Florida, like the rich coastal areas of the Pacific Northwest, provided a remarkable abundance of food. Long before Columbus began the European invasion, tens of thousands of people lived in South Florida, and the most powerful group were the Calusa. Their society centered around the Naples/Fort Meyers area of the Southwest coast, at a place called Calos. Many Calusa sites can be visited by kayak, which isn’t surprising, as their civilization relied on canoes for transportation. They even built canals for them. A paddler visiting South Florida can slip back into Calusa time—but not easily.

NOBODY LEFT

The most obvious way might be to stop in and say hi, but the Calusa are profoundly, disturbingly gone. Extinct. No more. DNA work might be interesting to pursue, but the last mention of surviving Calusa is in the mid 1700s. There still are Native Americans in Florida today, the Seminole, though they make up less than half a percent of the 17 million people in the state. But even the Seminole migrated historically from further north, and are unrelated to the Calusa.

WHAT’S TO SEE?

The Calusa society was described by the Spaniards way back in the 1500s, and archaeologists have added to those descriptions with their discoveries. Often described as the Shell People, the lack of stone in South Florida stimulated a remarkable use of shells for building material, tools and art. By harvesting shellfish and piling up shells for centuries, the Calusa built entire islands, complete with temple mounds and canals. The Spanish described buildings that could hold 2000 people, flotillas of canoes and elaborate ceremonies. They also described a belief system that included three souls. Though most of the details have been lost, this belief system was resilient enough to resist the standard bribery and violence of the Spanish missionaries.

Although there’s nobody left to describe this fascinating culture, at least you can drop by some of the ruins and soak up the ambience, right? Maybe a visit to Calusa National Historic Park, or a sightseeing trip to the impressive remains at Calos, the center of their culture? Um—no.

THREE PATHS TO INVISIBILITY

Shells crumble out of an unusually high bank along the Estero River, a clue to past habitation by the Calusa..

The Calusa didn’t have stone to work with, so there are no lost cities in the jungle, no pyramids, no mysterious giant heads. Archaeologists aren’t even sure where Calos was, though Mound Key near Fort Meyers is the prime suspect. Like some other coastal cultures, the Calusa built up massive shell middens. In many cases these mounds were much more than just refuse piles—they were worked into construction material, crafted over centuries into the foundations for villages and temples.

Unfortunately, the vast majority of the mounds have succumbed to three fates that tend to make them invisible. First and quickest—they were overgrown. Higher ground is a rare commodity on Florida’s coast and there are plenty of plants that are happy to grow on shell mounds, covering them in short order.

Fate two is erosion—shell isn’t exactly as rugged as granite. Winds, waves and rain continue to eat away at remaining mounds. Fate three—continuing development. The shell mounds of the Calusa were pretty much the best places to build on the coast, and everyone from Seminoles, Cuban fisherfolk and Yankee retirees have made use of them. A more ignominious fate was roadbuilding—many a mound was dug up and used as roadbed material. Shell drains much more efficiently than the marshy mucks of the coast, so invaluable archaeological sites became easy ways to save money on roads.

As a result of all this, there are no Calusa cities to wander through, no National Historic Parks protecting impressive ruins. The mounds of the Calusa have been rendered invisible by vegetation, erosion and bulldozers. All is not lost as there are a few spots left with varying degrees of protection. There are also two or three ‘wet’ archaeological sites where anoxic muck preserved wooden carvings, fishnets and even chili pepper seeds. For paddlers, though, visiting the Calusa takes an eye for subtle clues and a considerable amount of imagination.

GONE AND FORGOTTEN

A few interpretive signs can be found along the narrow trail that traverses the dense vegetation on Mound Key.

Coming from the Pacific Northwest, where First Nations are still a visible and important part of society, I find it disconcerting to realize how completely gone the Calusa are. Arriving in the region for a paddle now, you could easily be forgiven for missing the evidence entirely. Tens of thousands of people lived here for centuries, even millennia, yet it takes a trained eye to find any evidence of them whatsoever. How did these people and their culture disappear so completely? Why are so many Floridians barely aware of the complex society that preceded them?

Spanish soldiers, missionaries, slavery and germs were largely responsible for the eradication of the Calusa. Then the Spanish were replaced by English and American settlers. The migration and remarkable history of the Seminoles further obscured the Calusa and every other Florida First Nation. Three bitter Seminole Wars and the subsequent forced migration west have supplanted the earlier native societies in the minds of most Floridians.

Not a single dugout canoe remains from the culture that ruled South Florida, built extensive canals, inhabited villages and sailed from Tampa to Cuba. Getting into a kayak and trying to visit with them is a humbling and difficult journey.

VISITING

Mound Key State Archaeological Site This is perhaps the best spot for paddlers, as it is only accessible by boat and makes for an interesting paddle out the Estero River.

Pineland (Randell Research Center) A remarkable spot complete with artifacts, the remnants of a large canal, shell mounds and sand burial mounds. Although private, there is an interpretive trail and it is open for tours.

Museums There are a number of museums, mostly small, including The Mound House: A Cultural & Environmental Learning Center; Museum of the Islands; Southwest Florida Museum of History.

BOOKS

The Calusa and Their Legacy: South Florida People and Their Environments

Darcie MacMahon & William Marquardt

Great as a field guide or armchair read.

ISBN 0-8130-2773-X Published 2004, 240 pp Cloth: $39.95

It’s interesting to read a book that takes an ecosystem view of archaeology. Early chapters describe the reliance of Calusa society on estuaries, and there are descriptions of a wide variety of marine life and how it was or might have been used. I think they take this a little too far, but it’s a refreshing perspective.

The book chronicles the rise (largely unknown) and the fall (poorly known) of the Calusa, relying on two main sources of information. The first are Spanish accounts, a few of which are quoted directly. The second is archaeological work, especially (as far as artifacts are concerned) three of south Florida’s ‘wet’ sites, where anoxic bog conditions preserved things like wooden carvings. Illustrations are used throughout, from photographic plates of artifacts to excellent and archaeologically accurate line drawings of Calusa life.

The book tries to wrap up the story on a more positive note, describing the fishing culture that still exists in South Florida. Still, the story of the Calusa really is a tragedy, and ignorance of it is even more tragic. Hopefully an accessible book like this one will help correct the latter.

FURTHER READING

Indian Mounds You Can Visit: 165 Aboriginal Sites on Florida’s West Coast

I. Mac Perry 1998

Great as a field guide or armchair read.

Timeline to Oblivion BC 10000+: First evidence of hunter gatherers in Florida.

AD 1500: Spanish ships begin to arrive in south Florida, where tens of thousands of people already live. The Calusa in the Southwest are the most powerful group, notably tall, long haired and ‘fierce’.

1513: Ponce de Leon tries to colonize south Florida but is chased off. Eight years later he comes back with 200 settlers, but they are driven off as well. However, Eurasian germs (like smallpox) are more successful in their colonization of the New World, spreading among Native Floridians who have little resistance to them, decimating entire nations.

1700s: Natives from Georgia and Alabama, along with runaway slaves, move into Florida, becoming the Seminoles and adding to the displacement of the Calusa, many of whom are lost to slave raids.

1763: The few remaining Calusa apparently leave for Cuba, where most, if not all, soon die..