Not a large or muscular lad, matter of fact he was kind of scrawny, but one look at this boy in the woods tells you he is ready for what

 might come his way. Silently still, wearing a burlap bag with

 holes for sleeves and dark trousers belted with a rope, he patiently waits sitting on the ground with his back against a pine tree .Young

Jehu Bartow, about 5 and a half feet tall, dark with dark hair,

 sharp eyes and ever present half smile, could be one of Huck Sawyer’s friends. He looked natural as the tree he sat against with his

nose to the breeze. Early in the morning, a lucky hunter can set in a good spot to hear the wilderness begin its day.

This was the circumstance for young Jehu. He worked double hard last night cleaning around the farmyard and tending his family’s critters

enabling this mornings chores went fast so he could take

 a morning stand deep in Ortona’s woodlands. Over the rhythmic dew dropping on the ground from the trees coupled with a mild breeze so

light it is almost no breeze, he hears the stirrings of some

 hopeful dinner. He can hear the mumble of a distant early riser but not sure if it is bird, or swine, probably swine. Filling the sky, big flocks of

 birds leaving last night’s roost like Curlew, Iron Head,

and Hooper Crane are overhead. He can hear Mosquito swarms thick as a horse blankets humming a quarter mile away as the fog settled on

the ground. Alert a distant fox squirrel barks “Bar, bar,

 bahr” and squeals from pigs that carry long distances over the plop, plop of the dew on the ground early this morning.

Jehu chose this spot because there is so much hog. While he was rabbit hunting, last week Jehu and his father hunted the middle of a dry season

cypress head and discovered all this plowing and

 hog scat. It looked as if it was a battle ground cannon balled a hundred thousand times. A sudden movement from the side alerts Jehu to a huge

 boar hog. The boar is so big and near, maybe 50

steps, that Jehu is afraid to breath. The boar stares coal black eyes into Jehu’s and it begins to do what it came to do. He is starting to root for some

 variety of grub or crawdad. A huge boar can

 “Plow” holes a foot deep with his snout and hooves over a half-acre every hour.

Luckily, for Jehu this hog did not care for him at all. Jehu did not dare twitch; a big boar can kill ten dogs and maybe a hunter. Jehu thought it better to

let boar pursue his grubs than instigate a dash

 to the big tree to climb up. Forgetting to breathe for a moment, Jehu slowly exhales to ease his burning lungs. The old 36-caliber musket is best suited

 for squirrel or rabbit but could kill any animal

 when shot proper. Jehu did not have a great deal of confidence in the musket for a bear or hog as big as a bear, no matter how proper he could shoot.

 The boar, shiney black and bulging

muscle is as big as a bear. With a long nose and tusk, he looked like he could eat Jehu if he wanted. He is the biggest Piney Rooter he ever saw and

what a big tuskey boar!

Wild boar are as dangerous as any animal Jehu could hunt but many animals could eat a person like bear, panther, and alligator or wild old bulls out in

the thick woods stomping you into a mud 

hole and leaving you to the buzzards. Many of the areas animals hunt their dinner, sometimes in teams, sometimes alone, some in the day but most at

night. Jehu had heard tales of a whole family

 ate by alligator at Indian Hill. Old Mr. Weeks was ate by his hogs on his farm. Snakes are everywhere and most where you least expect, and one bite

could kill. Granny Gittoe said if you do not

 wear shoes, you will always see the snake before you step on him. Keeping all this in mind Jehu thinks it best to sit quiet and not bother the boar.

More swine are now congregating to his area and several are 50-pound pigs. This could be a great day. A 50 lb pig is the perfect pig. Bringing home

 two pigs could bring a celebration. He would

 not hunt all day today, they would be small enough to drag a half mile easy and he should be home soon. Mama, Mary, and Martha would have roast,

bacon, pickled feet and enough to trade to

 Mr. Johnson in exchange for some store goods. The lard can be cooked and then used to store venison in a barrel in the barn. Small pigs lard was sweet,

not rank like an old boars and the venison

 should be sweet. Granny Gittoe could come to dinner and stay until breakfast. Jehu loves the areas midwife and storyteller. Jehu had to get Granny when

his sister Mary was born since Dad was 

herding cattle down the river to Punta Rassa.
*As early as 1840 Cattle were being shipped to Havana with thirty thousand head loaded on boats at Lee County’s Punta Rassa that year through Mr. Jacob

 Summerlin‘s range south of Fort Myers 

to the mouth of the Caloosahatchee on the Estero Bay. Just a little more compelled to shoot two pigs with one shot, as he was to sit quiet; Jehu pulls back

the hammer with a loud “CLICK”. The click

 stirs all the pigs up. They grumble and claw the ground. Jehu needs two pigs to stand close enough to line a shot through ones neck behind the head.

High enough to hit the first pig in the top half

of his first neck bone and hit the second in the face or heart or backbone. The pigs are moving around but seem intent on plowing for grubs. With a

hissing snap and “KABLAM” his shot connects to

 the first pigs neck with a “THUMP” it is obvious
as the second pig falls it worked just like Dad had said. The remaining pigs scattered screaming, crashing through the brush away from Jehu as the

smoke cleared.

Jehu felt emboldened as he left his stand with a seriously large knife and a determined attitude. Taking life is a solemn time. As he walks to the pigs to

bleed them he can still hear the pack of pigs

 fussing among themselves nearby. He took a knee next to pig #2 and stuck his knife in the side of his neck behind the ear and jaw and found the juggler,

10 seconds and a few kicks and the pig is

 silent. Pig #1 is dead so he sticks his knife in its juggler and watched the blood flow. Jehu is excited, Mama will be proud.

Back at home, Jehu’s mother Martha is doing the days washing. The river life made it easy, it was the redeeming feature of this farm. She could garden

and water her fruit trees. Martha even has

citrus.

 It is Pre- reconstruction era Ortona, and there are big cattle spreads on the range flourishing in peaceful times and land available to hard working,

God-fearing folk. She and husband Jacob eventually

 homesteaded these 160 acres in 1870 and had squatted over twenty years before then. It became a home and their farm, enough for man and wife

and three kids to thrive. Jacob would be home
at times, when he was not on the trail. Occasionally he could be gone a few months when they drive from Kissimmee and Okeechobee, or to Estero

or Fort Myers. Martha’s daughters Mary and

Martha are helping in the garden while they wait for dry cloths to fold and put away. Martha’s son Jehu is out rabbit hunting and due home by dinner.

Jehu is more of a man by the minute, which

is what is needed. The girls are 6, 10, and Jehu is 12.

Martha’s father Zeke Whitt, born in Polk County, now lives in Corkscrew near Immokalee. Polk County is Martha’s birthplace and it is beautiful but not

 like the Ortona range. Martha’s Father has

more Florida longhorn in Immokalee than a man should have. Zeke and his family, the Whitt family, had been in the south since the 1600’s. Martha did

 not remember her Mother but she was

 Cherokee and Zeke had loved her. Some of her mother’s family lived in Arcadia but Martha has never seen them. Her in laws the “Bartows” are one

of the first families in Florida this far south 

and for that Jacob was proud. He was born in Atlanta in 1824. Martha was born in 1837. Zeke has seen big changes in his lifetime. Most were good

but not all. Still riding all day at 60, he is

running an empire. Zeke supposed the business of cattle is once again growing but the way of life is being too citified. He liked towns like Fort Myers

 and Punta Gorda growing and needing

beef in their town, but hated going to them to learn their new “Laws”. When he was a boy a man showed respect to keep his health, now tenderfoots

 hide behind new “Laws” to make life

civilized like New York or Boston where no respectable man could survive.

Zeke remembered life before the Indian wars; the Indians did not bother anyone. His first love was Cherokee, and she was a very beautiful, strong

willed woman. Martha Hicks was 21 when

she died from consumption, and Zeke never loved that hard or sweet again. Sometimes Zeke day dreamed of what it was like in the Carolinas when

 the Cherokee, Choctaw, and others ruled

their own destinies. The Tribes had peace and lands for their families and their families to come. Their lifestyle had endured thousands of years and

 the white man replaced it with civilized life.

Many the time Zeke would think of Martha and her family. Martha was born in 1818 in the Cherokee Nation in North Carolina. Her father was killed

in “25” and her mother Alma Mae, who outlived

 Martha, survived the treacherous white man, escaped the Trail of Tears, and joined her brother William in Florida. William had come to Florida when

he sold his land in the Carolinas to the white

man settlers. He lived in Gainesville, Tampa, and ended up in Arcadia working with the Smith Ranch. William has a ranch with 160 acres where he

 lives in his cottage and raised his herd.

Zeke figured he was probably dead by now, Alma Mae too. Martha, born in Arcadia and loved life there. His 5 years with Martha was a lifetime ago.

* By 1750 a group of Seminoles with a chief

called “Abaya“ or “Cowcatcher” were raising stolen white mans livestock and Spanish mavericks on a prairie about 100 miles north of Desoto County’s

 big prairie that is east of Arcadia. White

 mans cattle years were going strong by 1850 in the middle of the state. On Christmas Day in 1837, the Battle of Okeechobee took place close to the

 point where the Kissimmee River empties

 into Lake Okeechobee. Today a monument to the battle stands at the spot it took place on U.S. 441 east of Taylor Creek. Dedicated in 1937 by some

 of the fallen soldier’s descendants it claims

the battle was a route and it turned the Second Seminole war to the United States.


From my view, this is not wholly accurate as the Indians inflicted more than twice the casualties on the Missouri Volunteers. Even though outnumbered

two to one the Seminoles won and ran to

 fight another day. Today’s Seminole Tribe is very successful in cattle as well as tourism, real estate endeavors and keeping in touch with their culture.

 The Clewiston “Big Cypress” herd was over

10,500 head and one of the biggest in the state.

Back at Jehu’s stand he waited for the hogs to bleed out and reloaded the .36 cal musket. To the east, he can hear the family of hogs grumbling about

 fifty yards into the Bull Rush Grass. That big

 boar and the others were squealing and snorting. It was a great shot and now a good time to get home. He takes a quick look into the trail through the

Bull Rush and spots that big boar. He looked

right into Jehu’s eyes. He has black mud all over his face with his eyes and tusk beaming through. Young Jehu mischievously smiles, causing a twinkle

 in his youthful brown eyes. This boy is dark

 and tanned with both his White man and his Indian characteristics prominent, just like everything else in the state becoming unique to Florida, a blend

of White man and Indian.

Jehu grabs a rope from around his pants, ties a hog to each end, and drags the pigs with the rope around his waist. This leaves his hands free for his

gun. He leans forward and starts to drag. The

other hogs stay behind as Jehu left the woods. Across the Roberts pasture, Jehu goes home. The Roberts are the big cattle family here. Jehu’s father

 worked for this family and ranch. Jehu’s father

 Jacob had known the Roberts up in Polk County when he was young and had worked for them a long time. Jehu’s Uncle Jehu Whidden is also becoming

 a prosperous cattleman and is building an

eventual 50,000 head herd in southeastern Lee County known as Corkscrew. He is Jacob’s half brother and they compete more than speak, sharing

Jacob’s stepmother had not made the close

 brotherly relationship you would hope for.

Jehu’s slender mother wearing a faded blue dress and grey streaked black hair in a bun hung the laundry in the farmyard; while his sisters looking

a lot like their mother did the garden weeding.

 Over in the corner of the yard was a young heifer tied to an oak tree. This bull had been milk fed, and he could feed them like royalty. Once

about every year and a half they slaughtered their yard

 bull and started over with a new calf. Although beef was plentiful, it was easier to barter with fresh meat when it is was farm raised, hand fed

stock. Jehu’s father Jacob remembered early days when

there were more maverick cattle than people. Folks back then preferred venison to scrub cattle, wild hog being the mainstay.

Young Jehu is excited to clean his hogs. He dragged them to the barn, which is next to the well-expanded shotgun shack they live in. At the

entrance of the barn is a post with a block and tackle and

 a wooden spreader hung to clean game from the wild or the farmyard fare. Jacob stores his tools, supplies, goods for his yard animals and

horse in the barn. About fifty steps into the trees at the edge

of the yard is a smokehouse the size of modern day refrigerator for their smoked meats and fish. Living on the Caloosahatchee River supplied

 plenty of mullet, gator, turtle, deer and hog to smoke.

On the other hand a “Sea Cow” was a daylong job when Jacob and Jehu decide to harvest one from the abundance of the river. Sea Cow meat

 is composed of fat and meat swirled in layers like giant

slabs of bacon or a Danish pastry.

His mother waves him over yelling “Whataya got there boy?” She says, “Jehu, you got a lot of work there son. Where did you find those pigs?

 You better get a drink of water here” as she pointed to

 the pump. While he worked the pitcher pump his dad got from Tampa Jehu was all smiles and no stories. His mother persisted so Jehu told

how he was walking in the woods looking for rabbits and

 saw those pigs. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and went back to work. He cut the first pigs back feet near the achilles and strung him

 up tying the rope to lock the height the pig is hanging and

then proceeded to skin him.

The pigs were small and his knife was freshly stone sharpened so the skinning was progressing smoothly. After skinning, Jehu opened up

the pig and cautiously removed his guts, careful not to break

 the bladder or anything else. Carefully he placed the guts in his bucket to dump away from the barn. After cleaning both pigs, Jehu uses a

bucket of water to wash the meat off real good so his Mother

 would approve. This would enable her to clean it again when cooking so it would not be gritty or hairy. It was well past noon when Jehu was

 done. He carried the pigs into the house in halves. Mother

would clean and quarter the pigs and go to Johnson’s with one pig’s quarters.

Jehu built a hot fire for the smoke house and put the other hog shoulders in the smoker.

Later he then took a ham to Granny Gittoe to trade for a kid (goat). He talked while Granny started filleting her ham out and saved the rest for

soup. She had “Irish Potatoes” in the yard and collards.

When Granny cooked those collards in a meaty hambone broth and some potatoes, Wow that is good stuff.

Granny’s long, white haired ponytail was today black and gray due to heating her washing water over a lighter knot fire but her eyes smiled at

Jehu through the soot. Who would have thought this 

slender,five foot tall Indian lady could be so strong. Granny kept 20 acres of grove and helped the little community with its mid-wife needs. At

times Granny smoked a corncob pipe claiming it was

 “Rabbit Tobacco” but right now, she was intent on ham soup.

Granny was about 70 years old and very wise. The wisdom you get from suffering the love of a pioneer life. Granny loved pioneering, as it was

 natural, which it was. Granny never married or had

 tolerated few men once leaving home. Men stunk worse than the cattle and were not real fun to be around if they owned you so, she stayed single.
Granny’s mother was Cherokee, her father was Portuguese and when they died Granny went to her grandmother Whiddens home in Arcadia and

 worked for the Roberts off and on for 50 years.

 She used to work in the house for her grandma and eventually worked as a cook on the drives to Kissimmee or Tampa. She had a place of her

own in Ortona and stopped caring for the

 “Chuck Wagon” for a long time.

Later she was free to raise her goats and citrus, fruit and oaks in the pasture and along her cabins road. Of course, you can still find some wild

cattle about but Granny has steered clear

 of mavericks this long she probably will never have any.

Jehu always asked about the Indians in her family and she could tell him to care for his family, neighbors, and respect the animals and he would

be a good Indian too! Jehu was a dark

looking breed and would make any Indian grandma proud. Some of the kids made Granny lonesome for motherhood although she mothered anyone

 she saw needing it all of her life.
 
* By 1875 cattle was the established state business. Old cowboy clans like the Roberts and Whiddens, King and Smiths were very established

operations and each ran their particular

range in southwest Florida then. With the railroad expansion, forest and citrus production, phosphorous mining and tourism on the rise the

Florida’s economic composition was building

empires leading to many cultural changes. Over 200 years later, none of the empires have outlasted the cattle industry as a true measure

of Florida’s strength.

 

 

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