Last Stand

(2 of 2)

But the Miccosukees' best weapon is litigation, and in the past month they've won some major showdowns. The tons of phosphorous that run off sugar farms into the Everglades are kryptonite for the ecosystem. The federal Environmental Protection Agency recently approved the Miccosukees' petition to set the legal limit of phosphorous in their reservation water at 10 times lower than concentrations found in many parts of the region. And because so much Everglades water passes over the 100,000-acre reservation, the Miccosukees have all but obligated everyone around them to meet their standard--including sugar companies, which argue that they don't have the technology to comply.

Other Miccosukee moves are less pleasing to environmentalists. Besides building a casino on the Everglades' eastern edge, the tribe has sided with property holders in a disputed 8.5-sq.-mi. area a few miles to the south. There, some 1,400 landowners--many of them Cuban exiles--are resisting local government efforts to buy up their properties and flood them as part of the restoration. Surprisingly, the Miccosukees have sued in favor of the landowners: because most of the families have lived there legally for decades, the tribe fears that a battle to evict them will just stall the restoration. Last week local officials backed off, and environmentalists are fuming. "The tribe's stance boggles us," says a leading Miami activist. "You look at their big new casino out there, and you wonder if they're shills for developers."

Cypress explains that "our values tend to balance respect for ecology with respect for people." Poling a canoe into the marsh, as baby alligators dart around the lily pads, he passes the tree islands where the Miccosukees practice sacred rites. When asked if the Everglades really could return to the way it was a century ago, he smiles mischievously. "That's easy," he says. "Just give it all back to us."