The Silver River
Marion County, Florida


That's me..an old wood boat and a double bladed paddle at dawn on the Silver River

 

In August of 2000 Willie and I moved to Ocala, Florida...and we live just seven
miles from the boat basin park near the confluence of the Silver and
Ocklawaha rivers. Eventually I'll have more pictures...but here's a start.

 

The hand launch area at the boat basin, and
my friend Tom Shen with his We-No-Nah

A Rhesus monkey watching the Silver River.

 

 

 

 

 

No Wake Zone...Right!

Canal between basin and rivers.

Baby gator.

Monkeyshines.

Solo on the Silver.

 

Coromant

Turkeys

 

When God Made The Silver River
by Bob Cork

A story first told at the
Silver River Museum Pioneer Days
November 2000

 

I never cared much for history when I was young, maybe because all the people who taught it had grey hair and wrinkled skin, and peered over glasses that rested on tips of noses.

Now that my grandchildren put me into those categories, and I refuse to use hair dye, skin tucks and contact lenses to refute them, I've become curious about origins and reasons for being.

So it happened, after we moved to Ocala and my heart was stolen by the Silver River, where I meander often in my old wood canoe, that I looked for and discovered a fascinating story.

Some folks don't realize that when God made the world he made the Southern Hemisphere first, for practice, and then started his real work of art at the North Pole and moved South.

It took lots of energy and raw material for God to make Arctic ice floes and deep cold oceans, magnificent creatures like whales and Polar Bears, and hardy Eskimos to stand the weather.

Then God made but Bighorn sheep on rugged mountains with cascading rivers, Moose in forests of the Northeast, and Bison on vast prairies. He made rich black loam for corn and soybeans in the Midwest, and more mountains from Pennsylvania to Georgia.

By the time God got to Florida he had run out of mountains, fresh water and black dirt for corn. All he had left was sunshine and a long beach of soft sand between the Atlantic and the Gulf.

Thinking peanuts and grass would do okay, God scattered seeds to prove it, and then used leftover foothills to give Ocala a gently rolling countryside so it would look a bit like Kentucky.

God planted some oak trees, but since their leaves would never turn yellow and red and die in October he called them live oaks, and then he planted cypress trees with spreading roots.

When God saw those thirsty roots reaching out for water he put a huge rock shelf underground, so rainwater from Georgia would flow over that shelf and collect under the sand of Florida.

Then he had all that pure filtered water just bubble up out of the sand, in places like Rainbow and Juniper Springs. Feeling like he was on a roll, God mixed some quartz in the sand around Ocala and made the best bubbling springs come up right here.

When sunshine hit the quartz and sand in deep clear pools, people called the place Silver Springs, and when a beautiful river wandered through cypress and live oaks on its five-mile journey to the Ocklawaha, people named it the Silver River.

God was pleased, but he wasn't finished. Such a perfect place needed creatures to keep it company and add to its character.

In the river God put fish of many colors and styles, turtles with varying snouts and temperaments, birds with long legs and necks for fishing, and a black bird skilled at scuba diving.

For the woods he made white-tail deer, black bears, raccoons, opossums, panthers, turkeys and other woodsy critters, and for fun he made the otter to live on the land and play in the water.

But God realized he needed to keep order in the forest and in the river, so he made creatures to rule over all the others.

For the forest he made a modification of clever, skilled and savvy people he had made elsewhere, and came up with a caretaker he called a Seminole. All the land animals admired him.

For the Silver River he had a special treat. Working without a model, God designed a strong, silent creature that could lay in the sun and then explode in fury, and he called him an alligator.

Things went well in the forest and on the river until the otter, full of tricks and trouble, started asking other animals and birds and swimming friends who they thought was really king of the Silver River, the alligator or the Seminole.

At first the otter was ignored, but like most politicians the otter kept on talking, and single-footedly created a controversy. Turtles argued with raccoons, and coromants squabbled with bears.

So it was decided to settle the arguments with contests of skill and strength in the water and on the land. Even though the alligator had the advantage in water and the Seminole had a leg up on land, each did well in the other's territory.

Suffering from the delusion that every contest must have a clear victor, the contestants were goaded into a one-on-one wrestling match to the finish.

The otter, who really admired both the alligator and Seminole, and was sorry he had started all the trouble in the first place, reluctantly agreed to referee.

The creatures of the woods watched from behind the Seminole, and the river creatures watched from behind the alligator, and the otter drew a line in the sand and proceeded to count to three.

One....two....but the suspense was broken when a little Armadillo about 12 inches long came scurrying and shuffling and snorting along the line in the sand, looking for bugs and worms.

Distracted and disgusted, the Seminole picked up the armadillo and threw it deep into the forest, its body spiraling through the air as it sailed.

A white-tail deer, concerned for the little fellow, ran a zig-zag course through the woods and caught the armadillo safely in his antlers, and all the land creatures cheered.

Back to the business at hand, the otter counted again. One...two...and suddenly another armadillo came scurrying, shuffling and snorting between the contestants.

This time the distracted alligator, with anger and great power, swatted the armadillo with his mighty tail and the armadillo sailed across the river, end over end, right between two forks of a cypress tree on the other bank.

All the water creatures cheered and splashed their approval of the magnificent feat.

Suddenly the otter had a God-given thought, a way to save face for his foolish questions that had brought these two magnificent creatures he admired to a struggle of death.

The otter suggested that it might be more fun to see who could throw and kick the armadillo most efficiently and effectively, and he said they could call the contest football.

All the creatures of land and water cheered at the launching of a fierce competition that continues to this day in Florida between the Gators and the Seminoles, and only the playful otter, who started all the trouble, is allowed to remain neutral.

 

(For the non-Floridians, The University of Florida teams are the Gators, and the teams for Florida State University are the Seminoles.)

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