Awash in memories of Cow Creek Ranch

BY GREGORY ENNS

Splashing around in the waters of Cow Creek swamp is one of my earliest memories of childhood. I was about 4 years old and my dad loaded my two older brothers and me in a Jeep for a ride around Cow Creek Ranch in the heart of Florida cattle country. As we drove down a lane along various pastures we approached Cow Creek crossing, a narrow swath where cypress trees and their knees had been cleared so you could drive through the creek.

On most days - as I later learned - the old Willys Jeep could pass through the creek. You merely had to stop the Jeep, put it in 4-wheel drive and trudge through, the Jeep's muffler often gurgling in the water. But there were certain days after heavy rains that you simply couldn't cross the creek. It became a matter of judgment when to take the chance, and my dad, who spent most of his time in the Army in Korea driving a Jeep in the motor pool, was a pretty good judge of when you could make it through.