Saving the Last, Vast Landscapes: Ranches
By Traci Deen, Executive Director & CEO
I’ve lived in Florida most of my life. It runs deep in my DNA as five generations before me also grew in the Florida sunshine. I supposed I knew a decent amount about our state. I swam in crystal blue springs, I hiked our public spaces, and I camped in the keys. I grew up in Miami, went to school in Tallahassee, and put roots down in Orlando. Having all of these experiences, I’d grown to love the many flavors of our State. Yet, I know now there was a significant part of Florida that I didn’t really know, a piece of her I’d only read about in A Land Remembered. I needed to get to know The Heartland if I had any shot at protecting Florida’s last, vast landscapes.
Matt Pearce
Photo by Adam Bass
Thankfully, Matt Pearce of Pearce Cattle Company, an 8th generation Floridian and past President of the Florida Cattlemen’s Association, invited me and Adam Bass, our Director of Conservation, to join him on a cattle drive. What better way to learn? Matt believes that in Florida, land conservation and ranching go hand in hand, and he generously shared his heritage with us so that we could experience The Heartland, firsthand.
Black Coffee & Cow Dogs
It was 4am when my alarm went off in a cabin in Okeechobee, Florida. My eyes shot open as I heard dogs barking outside and the sound of cowboys trailering in ranch horses and cow dogs. We’d be leaving Okeechobee at 4:30am sharp to head south toward the Everglades. Matt, with the warmth of a true gentleman, offered his cabin to the Conservation Florida team for the night prior. Dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans, layers of shirts, and my most trusted boots, I stepped outside of the cabin and was greeted by 40-degree weather, a cup of piping hot, black coffee, and the low hum of of a dozen cow dogs and horses rumbling in anticipation of the trip.
The cowboys were quiet, dancing a dance they knew by heart. My tendency for nervous chatter was quickly swallowed as I watched them prepare in unison. I hopped into Matt’s truck, the darkness of night illuminated by his headlights and the moon alone. Adam sat in the front passenger seat, and another truck and trailer followed us. At 4:30 on the dot, we drove, hauling four horses and a handful of dogs in the trailer. On the radio “A Country Boy Can Survive,” played as Hank Williams sang “ain't too many things these old boys can't do.” I didn’t know then how poignant and true that would be and what it could mean for Florida’s conservation future.
Sunrise and Sugarcane
As we drove, country music filled the quiet of dawn’s approach. I sat in the back of a powerful truck as we moved south, all three of us sipping, gratefully, on our no-nonsense coffee. We passed the Seminole Tribe of Florida’s Brighton Indian Reservation, a potent reminder of the history, heritage, and culture that fills Florida. As the sun began to rise on my left, we drove on a two-lane highway, and I realized we were surrounded by fields of sugarcane as far as the eye could see.
Photo by Adam Bass
When we arrived, the light of morning broadcast a vast green landscape only three hours from Orlando, but lightyears away. North of the Big Cypress Preserve, Matt grazes cattle on 7,000 acres protected by a Wetlands Reserve Easement — a conservation program that provides an opportunity for landowners to receive money to enhance wetlands in exchange for retiring land from agricultural production. It’s a smart tool used in Everglades water protection. Another cowboy with a clever smile and well-worn hat approached as soon as I got out of the truck. “Ma’am,” he said, bidding me a good morning. He held his arm out, offering me bacon from a white styrofoam container. In hindsight I’m so glad he did, we wouldn’t be stopping for lunch until noon and we’d be riding horseback until then. I think he knew I had no idea what was coming and insisted that I have, not one piece, but two. I learned in the moments to follow that he’d been working cows for four decades.
Traci Deen and Buttons
Photo by Adam Bass
Matt approached with a quarter horse named Buttons and a saddle that looked like it would fit me well. His daughter’s saddle, he explained. The thoughtfulness and the kindness shown to me that day as the group shared with me a part of who they are – their culture – struck me. Another truck hauling horses and dogs arrived, making the total number of cowboys on site nine. Nine, plus me, an outsider with a great love for Florida, and Adam, with a camera in hand. Adam has the incredible ability of capturing the intersection of ranch culture and wild Florida in a single photo and documented the cattle drive on his Sony camera.
With a quickness and surety of doing something you’ve done a thousand times before, the cowboys hopped on their horses and moved out. On Button, I followed, trying to stay out of the way. The dogs trotted parallel to their larger partners. They moved with a purpose. I asked Matt what we were doing, and he smiled. He said “We’re herding cows, and then we’re moving them about six miles up to another ranch.” You could tell he was right where he belonged: in a saddle, out in the wild, chasing cows. There was a comfort and confidence in the way he led the team as he broke us into crews.
The Herd
Hours flew by in the blink of an eye. The team of ranchers, ranging in ages, were laser focused. I was unsure how to help (or at a minimum not get in the way), but they encouraged me to learn and participate. The dogs, each loyal to their specific rancher, moved with horse and rider, herding cows into groups that would then be moved across a vast Florida landscape. The ranch horses were spirited, and they were persuasive; a beautiful extension of the rider above.
The first collection of cows took four hours. Free roaming the property, they had to be found and then convinced to move toward the growing group of others. Using tricks learned from experience, they clicked and whistled and spoke with the cows in an altogether unknown language to me. Occasionally I’d hear “Move Cow, Move!” and smile that I was starting to understand.
Mother cows with calves that were too young to make the trek were pulled out and put back into the pastures. One of the calves I witnessed must have been newborn, with its umbilical cord still attached. The Cowboys, otherwise tough, were gentle in those moments. A reverence of life, I thought, which I found an important juxtaposition, given the fate of the older cows.
Photo by Adam Bass
We began to move. Matt moved to the front, serving as the Conductor, also known as the Point or Lead Rider. He was responsible for the direction, route, and speed of the herd. Four cowboys split into groups of two serving as Swing and Flank Riders. These riders kept the herd together, backed Matt up, and with two on each side of the herd, they kept its form and function. Four more riders cracked whips as they hung back, serving as the caboose, if you will. These Drag Riders kept the entire mass moving forward, cracking the whip intermittently to encourage the slower cows to move forward. This is where I was invited to join, and I loved it.
Photo by Adam Bass
The wind was howling. “Hooo, that’s that Seminole wind blowing,” a Cowboy with a ballcap said. He was right, it was strong; heavy with pride, and heritage, and duty, and … Florida. They moved as a team. There were moments of laughter, of deep comradery, and a few muffled expletives as maverick cows tested the cowboys by trying to make a grand escape. At one point a brave young cow came straight for me and my zone. My fellow Drag Riders screamed “Don’t let him out!”
…he got out. They laughed, they poked fun, and I laughed back. This was hard work, understatedly, but I felt alive. We moved through landscapes, riding miles, keeping the herd moving together. Wild Florida under our feet, boasting its colors of green, yellow, purple, and blue all around us. Leaving Matt’s ranch, we entered a native grassland. The cows ahead, the Cowboys moving quickly, we entered a field that erupted in barren beauty as we moved through it. Purple martins, at least a hundred, flew from the grasses, encircling us with their chatter and flight. A piece of wild Florida that perhaps wouldn’t be so, if this land wasn’t protected by a conservation easement. We crossed a waterbody, we passed through wetlands, and encountered too many cabbage palms to count. We saw old Florida in all her glory amidst the chilly winter morning.
Photo by Traci Deen
We trekked on, and I enjoyed some of the most extraordinary wild Florida habitats. I learned it was not unusual to see a panther, and many other iconic Florida species out there. Five hours in, everything hurt from the physical exertion. I thought I was well equipped for a day in the saddle as an experienced equestrian. Oh no, no I was not. We broke for lunch, pulling cabbage palm leaves and wood from the landscape to start a fire. “You’re eating Cowboy lunch,” one of them said as they put sausage links onto the fire. I was famished, and the lunch was incredible. Mostly quiet, the Cowboys ate, and I thought we were done. My knees screamed as we saddled back up for four more hours of herdin’ cows.
Last, Vast Landscapes
I’ve been an advocate for conservation in our state, and for protecting our ranches for many years. I’d seen the science and the maps. I knew that ranches were connecting current conservation lands, were alive with wildlife, and actively storing water. Matt was right, though, there was no better way to learn—to really get it—than to experience it for myself. There we were, on thousands of acres of land that regularly provided habitat for Florida panthers, bald eagles, and more. Land that, but for ranching and conservation, would be in peril or perhaps already converted into “the last crop,” which is what housing and commercial developments that go up on former agricultural land is often called.
Photo by Carlton Ward, Jr.
Ranches in Florida provide some of the last, vast green space in our state. They’re providing critical habitat to our native species, and from the swamps to the sandhills, ranches in Florida are key to supporting our unique biodiversity and an array of habitats on a landscape-scale. Many ranchlands preserve landscapes in their natural and untouched conditions, keeping lands wild and harboring pockets of old Florida. More, scientists have discerned that improved pastures can support some imperiled species of our native wildlife, like the Crested Caracara. Importantly, ranches can help keep the Florida Wildlife Corridor intact, and without them, our greenways and wildlife corridors would be fragmented and lost forever.
Ranches, not rooftops, are contributing to the long-term health of our state’s wildlife and residents. They’re also keeping places that would become cookie-cutter-concrete-single-family homes from meeting that fate—for now. Ranches indeed provide a rich service to our future.
Photo by Carlton Ward, Jr.
Florida is the third-most populous state in the nation, growing by nearly 1,000 newcomers each day. We’re projected to exceed 30 million residents by 2060. With this comes a greater demand for water and the development of rural and natural lands for urban use. How we manage our natural resources over the next 10 to 20 years – what we save and what we pave – will determine Florida’s conservation future, and the future of Florida as a whole. We watch and mourn the loss of green space as another piece of paradise is paved, another ranch is divided and sold, and we see what’s coming: more of us, more roads, more rooftops. So, this is it: this is the last great push for land conservation in our State… and we can’t make strides without ranching and other working lands.
Photo by Traci Deen
As Florida’s population booms, poorly planned expansion of cities is cutting off natural wildlife corridors. Conservation Florida is combating these threats to our future by protecting natural and agricultural landscapes for future generations.
Conservation easements in particular are a smart tool here: keeping Florida’s family farms and ranches in business while simultaneously protecting the conservation value of the land is significant. Maintaining green landscapes, wildlife corridors, habitat and open space, while safeguarding food security and the rural communities that are dependent on the economic viability of agricultural operations is a double, or triple win.
Hank Williams had it right. There’s not a lot these old boys can’t do. They introduced me to The Heartland, and it has forever enriched my understanding of wild Florida. Ranches are a vital part of the conservation puzzle. It’s hard work and heart work, back-breaking and grueling but glorious all the same. It’s thankless in many ways but helps keep Florida green. So, I urge you to think beyond the beaches, look inland, and thank a Cowboy (or gal) for keeping Florida Florida… and join Conservation Florida as we work to protect Florida’s ranchlands.
About Conservation Florida
Conservation Florida is a statewide accredited land trust with a mission to save Florida’s natural and agricultural landscapes for future generations. Our conservation projects support Florida’s native plants and wildlife, fresh water, conservation corridors, family farms and ranches, the economy and nature-based recreation. Since our founding in 1999, Conservation Florida has led the way in strategic and evidence-based land protection and has saved over 30,000 acres of critical habitat through acquisition, facilitation and incubation of conservation projects.
We save land by developing conservation strategies, exploring funding sources and purchasing or accepting donations of land and conservation easements. Our other services include providing expertise to guide landowners through the land protection process, serving as a trusted community partner to support statewide land conservation and promoting land conservation through effective education and advocacy. Our vision is large-scale, and we are 100% committed to conservation in the state of Florida – for nature, for people, forever!
