Friday, June 12, 2009

Dade Battlefield


When I was in Florida, my mom and I went to the new Tampa Bay History Center, which covers the history of Tampa back to the period before white explorers arrived and began clashing with the native Indians. The modern city got its start in the Seminole Indian wars, when Fort Brooke -- which later became Tampa -- was part of the supply line for troops throughout the state.

I know very little about the Seminole conflicts, except that they were essentially genocide on the federal government's part. The streets in downtown Tampa are named for Indian fighters and political leaders of that time, providing lingering reminders -- and probably bad karma -- from those conflicts. At the museum, mention was made of the Dade Massacre, which resulted in the death of nearly 110 soldiers under Major Francis L. Dade at the hands of the Indians in what is now Sumter County. (Near subsequently-named Dade City, but nowhere near more populous Dade County.)



Coincidentally, the Dade Battlefield -- now a state historic site -- is just off the highway we planned to take a few days later to visit my brother in Jacksonville. So Mom and I decided to stop by the battlefield and check it out. I grew up very close to there, but had never visited.



Unfortunately, as we approached the area, it was POURING rain. Sheets of water were falling on the windshield and I could barely see to drive. We thought we’d have to cancel our plans. But then the rain suddenly stopped -- as summer rainstorms do in Florida -- and we emerged from the car at the battlefield and walked around a bit.

The rain gave everything a silvery sheen. The woods were humming with bird-sized mosquitoes. It was fascinating, though kind of dark and eerie, too. We were the only people there.


This column allegedly marks the spot where Dade himself fell and died. (I wonder how they know that?)

8 comments:

Barbara said...

Florida rain is so unique in its ability to instantly morph into sunshine. My recollection is that it never rained for days on end like it often does here.

Does the area where you grew up look as different as my birthplace does today?

mum said...

I can imagine the mosquitos - as big as hummingbirds and just as loud, too.

Thanks for the visit. (We drove by there quite a few times when visiting #2 son in Tampa, but never stopped.)

Betty said...

Love the photos. Very atmospheric. But bird-size mosquitoes?? O God, they would have had me running for cover!

Merle Sneed said...

It is a mystery to me how one group can see another as less than human, as many saw the native people. Here in the SW many people see Mexicans as something less than human, I'm afraid.

lettuce said...

hi steve, sorry i've been so busy and not visited for a while...

do you mind if I shamelessly promote my latest blog post? which is shamelessly promoting a new charity project - please read it and if you feel able help advertise (or contribute in any other way) that would be FAB

Reya Mellicker said...

It looks so magical - maybe because of the rain.

You know you can't plan for the rain to stop suddenly like that, even though that's how it rains in Florida. You were definitely given the 'green light' to check it out.

It's beautiful. Thanks for the post - I didn't know a thing about any of this.

e said...

Awesome photos. I'm glad our recent rains let up for you. I think you're possibly correct about the bad karma from the names and places downtown, and I also agree with Merle about the native populations being seen as less than human.

Squirrel said...

Florida is so pretty. I like going to Tampa / St Pete in the wintertime.