Early sailboats.

He had seen the school of sturgeon swimming upstream; their traditional spawning area was not much farther. Now, the Native American man waited patiently at a narrow point in the river. A weir of rocks would steer the fish close to him, and he was ready with a strong noose made of grapevine.

Sweat poured from his copper-colored skin; the warm spring sun was rising over treetops, and still the man waited. Finally, he spotted the silvery fish. They looked even larger than before, almost as long as his own body. The man remained motionless, though his heart was racing. When a sturgeon came within reach, the man quietly slipped the noose over the fish, and pulled mightily. The water seemed to explode! The startled fish dove for deeper water; the man gulped air and dove with him. Having made a vow to keep his hold, the fisherman wrestled, tugged and fought. He periodically gasped for air when the big fish rose to the surface. At last, the man pulled the exhausted sturgeon into shallow water and heaved it onto the bank. He smiled contentedly to himself. His village would eat well that night; there would be celebrating, there would be dancing. He thanked the fish for giving its life for his people.

This scene, inspired by a 1686 account by colonial writer William Byrd, depicts one of many fishing methods employed by Native Americans. For millennia, fish provided an important source of protein for these first people, and as many modern fishermen know, Florida’s numerous ponds, lakes, rivers and miles of coastline provided ample year-round opportunities to perfect fishing techniques.

I’ve often wondered what would happen if I were lost in the wilderness with the most basic of items, such as a knife, and I wanted to catch fish in nearby water bodies using the means available to early Native Americans. So, I did an experiment—I constructed a natural fishing rig from natural items. For a hook, I used a short, angled crabapple thorn and left enough of the adjoining twig so as to tie on a line. I’ve often been poked by these sharp thorns and thought it would be perfect.

For a weight, I used a small shell with a hole in it, knowing that a small rock would also be suitable, and I cheated a bit by using artificial sinew for a fishing line rather than have to weave together plant fibers, as Native Americans did. After carefully knotting my rig together, I tied one end to a long stick. Then, I ventured next door to my neighbor’s honeyhole—a sinkhole 30 feet deep with turquoise water and a host of bream, some catfish and at least one bass.

“Have at it,” my neighbor Paul had said earlier when I asked for permission.

“Don’t worry, I’ll release whatever I catch,” I said confidently.

Paul had trouble concealing a smirk.

The late Seminole Mary Johns, gigged a big snook at the age of five.

For bait, I turned over some rotten wood and gathered a mess of fat larvae of the patent leather beetle. I cut these critters into bite-size morsels for panfish and impaled a piece on my sharp, natural hook. Then, I perched myself on the steep sides of the sinkhole and slung the rig into action. I expected a fighting fish any moment, but I soon noticed my bait floating away, with minnows attacking it with abandon. After several more tries, I realized the difficulty of keeping bait on a hook that wasn’t circular or barbed. There is a reason for our modern-day designs, and for those carved by early Native Americans. When I did manage to keep bait on my thorn for more than a few seconds, I did get a strike or two, but I never once hooked a fish, pointing to the need, once again, for a barbed hook. After a frustrating hour, I accepted defeat and realized that I wouldn’t be eating fish if I were lost in the wilds unless accompanied by a skilled hunter-gatherer.

The hook and line was historically popular among Native Americans. Hooks were often made from turkey or deer bones and sometimes from wood, shell and thorns. Fine cordage was woven from yucca, palm fiber, Spanish moss or the inner bark of several tree species. Hooks could be tied on using deer sinew, but these had to be coated with pine pitch or bees’ wax for waterproofing and to prevent fish from nibbling the sinew. Sinkers were made from shell and stone, and floats were often made of light wood, such as cypress or gumbo limbo. Trotlines and handlines were more common than pole fishing.