Conservation Quarterly: History of the IRL

Conservation Quarterly with Capt. Alex Gorichky: A Brief History of the Indian River Lagoon – Read the introduction to the Conservation Quarterly series here.

Introduction

The Indian River Lagoon (IRL) has witnessed centuries of transformation—its waters reflecting the faces of those who revered it, exploited it, and ultimately reshaped it. Once a cradle of life for the Ais and other Indigenous peoples, the lagoon thrived as one of the most biologically diverse estuaries in the world. Over time, it became a stage for explorers, settlers, and dreamers whose ambitions left deep marks upon its shores. From agriculture and industry to rockets and rapid development, each generation left both progress and peril in its wake.

Today, the IRL stands as a mirror—revealing not just the beauty of Florida’s coast, but the consequences of our choices. This historical reflection traces how the lagoon’s balance was lost, how the “it can take it” mentality led to ecological collapse, and why understanding its past is essential to restoring its future.

The Many Faces of the Indian River Lagoon

There is little doubt that the Indian River Lagoon (IRL) complex has seen many faces over the years. Some of those faces looked upon it with the reverence reserved for the giver of life and sustenance. Others as swashbucklers hunting hiding spots, supplies, and refuge, or explorers of new (to them) lands with hostile inhabitants in the form of animals, plants, and people.Those faces who settled this unique section of the new world relied heavily on the waterway to feed and support their families with its immense bounty. Then came the explosion of faces fueled by development, eyes glazed over by dollar bills. Even faces lit by the glow of our race to space, while we dredged, filled, impounded, abused, and carved up the watersheds and shores of the IRL to our liking.Forever the IRL took it—issues only noticeable to those faces willing to look into the water, not just at the beautiful scene our IRL projected daily. Forever the IRL took it, until it didn’t.

The First Peoples of the Lagoon

The presumed first Indigenous peoples to work, live, and thrive on the shores of the swampy lagoon were a Paleo-Indian group little is known about. What we do know comes from an archaeological dig after a Titusville development project unearthed remarkably well-preserved remains in the early 1980s (I visited the dig).

This 6,000–8,000-year-old civilization ceremoniously buried their dead in swampy bogs around the current Windover Farms area. No doubt the Windover bog people enjoyed a coastal swamp similar to what we see today.

However, the area’s most famous Indigenous group—and the one whose presence still holds in its name today—is the Ais, who lived on a lagoon that geographically looked almost identical to the pre-development IRL. This hunter-gatherer civilization based its life around the lagoon dubbed “Rio da Ais” by the Spanish, who quickly realized their mastery of the area and its bounty.

The Ais and the Golden Age of the Lagoon

Sure, the Ais hunted small game and foraged plants, but their passion was the lagoon—harvesting fish, sea turtles, and shellfish present in numbers modern anglers could only dream of. Their proficiency is evident in the shell middens, or food trash heaps, that dot the lagoon from roughly Ponce Inlet to Port St. Lucie, their primary range.

Though the lagoon looked like the present-day waterway, it was ecologically different. In pre-development days, the IRL complex (Mosquito, Indian, Banana Rivers) had natural inlets—Ponce and St. Lucie—connecting to the ocean. These inlets were dynamic, not yet stabilized by human hands.

Quick science lesson: water evaporates, but salt does not. The balance of saltwater inflow, rainfall, artesian seeps, and mangrove filtration created an ecosystem of staggering diversity. With temperate northern waters and subtropical southern waters, the IRL earned its title as one of the most biologically diverse estuaries in the world—a symbiotic masterpiece balanced by nature.

This golden age lasted because the Ais lived in harmony with their environment—waters, swamps, mangroves, and uplands. But, as with many good things, it did not last forever.

European Contact and the End of an Era

The Cape and its waterways appear on virtually every early map of European exploration in the Americas. The natural deepwater harbor, vast shoals, and bountiful lagoons made the area a landmark for ships heading north out of the Caribbean, laden with riches.

Explorers and adventurers interacted frequently with the Ais, marveling at the “River of Indians.” Sadly, European contact—and the diseases, warfare, enslavement, and forced relocation that followed—ended the Ais reign over the IRL.

Settlers and the First Scars

As the Ais faded into history, new settlers gazed upon the lagoon and its fertile lands with ambition. These early agricultural settlers were more attuned to nature than industrial-era inhabitants, yet their farming practices left the first true scars.

In the race to drain wetlands for farmland, the destruction of natural water flow began. This marked the beginning of the “The IRL Can Take It” attitude.

It’s doubtful those settlers could imagine that within just 175 years, the mosquito-infested mangrove swamps they tamed would host over 650,000 people in Brevard County alone—and nearly 1.5 million across the IRL watershed.

Perhaps renaming “Mosquito County” to more pleasant-sounding names—Orange, Brevard, St. Lucie—wasn’t such a good idea after all.

The Age of Agriculture and Industry

Many families homesteaded along the lagoon, forming small towns. Life wasn’t easy, but the lagoon provided relief, sustenance, and fertile land. Agriculture boomed, and soon the IRL’s marine abundance turned from sustenance to commodity.

As the railroad arrived, pineapples and citrus plantations expanded for miles. The IRL’s fate was sealed. Land was cleared, swamps drained, and money replaced reverence. Still, the IRL took it.

Though the early days seemed balanced—fish teeming, grass flats lush—the growing impact of waste, poor planning, and ignorance accumulated. Inlets were added, agriculture intensified, commercial fishing grew, and tourism bloomed—all while little thought was given to the lagoon’s fate.

The Space Age and Decline

In the decades since rockets first rose from the IRL’s shores, development exploded while care for the lagoon waned. Causeways replaced wooden bridges, bringing accessibility but also stagnation.

Natural watersheds were paved into neighborhoods. Filter marshes were dredged and filled for canal-front lots. Mangrove swamps were impounded, culverted, or destroyed. Stormwater now poured directly into the lagoon, rich with fertilizer and waste.

Even treated wastewater was often discharged into the lagoon—until systems failed, and tens of thousands of gallons of raw sewage spilled into its waters. Septic systems on swampy, sandy soils compounded the issue.

Still, somehow, the IRL took it.

The Tipping Point

As rockets became shuttles, tourism thrived, and the population soared, the pollution accumulated. “Forever chemicals” from the space race, military installations, and stormwater leached into the ground. Nutrients recycled endlessly, hidden beneath the surface.

The IRL appeared to handle it—until the early 2010s.

That’s when catastrophic algae blooms blanketed the lagoon. Sunlight was blocked, over 80,000 acres of seagrass vanished within months, and the IRL shifted from a seagrass-based estuary to an algae-based one.

Meanwhile, Orlando’s rapid growth and Lake Okeechobee discharges poured fresh water into the southern IRL, altering salinity and compounding the problem. The past decade’s blooms, habitat loss, and fish kills forced many to finally look into the lagoon—and realize it could no longer “take it.”

Where We Stand Now

This is not the end of the lagoon’s story—it’s the beginning of our responsibility.

In this Conservation Quarterly, we don our history hats. In the next installment, we’ll dust off our science hats—and explore how to turn the tide and make wrongs right for the Indian River Lagoon.