In Nevada, there is a desert. In that desert, there is a hole. In that hole, there is water. And in that water, there is a fish. This species, the Devil’s Hole pupfish, is found nowhere else in the world and is confined to a single 215 square foot limestone shelf. This radiant, cobalt-blue fish only grows to about an inch in length–sustained by the scarce amount of algae and invertebrates found in Devil’s Hole. The story of the pupfish is not only one of an endangered and charismatic species, but it is a story that speaks to broader issues of water conservation and conflict in the American West. 

Originally believed to have become isolated during a wet period 10,000 – 20,000 years ago, recent genetic research has suggested that the pupfish colonized Devil’s Hole only a few hundred years ago and that there is still occasional gene flow with neighboring populations of pupfish species. How this interbreeding occurs, and how they got there in the first place, is still a mystery, but some hypotheses suggest transportation of eggs by humans or birds. A population survey in 2022 had the count of pupfish at 263. 

Originally advocated for by prominent ichthyologist Carl Hubbs in the early 1950s, Devil’s Hole is a detached unit of Death Valley National Park that sits within the Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge. This oasis–the largest in the Mojave desert–is fed entirely by groundwater and boasts the largest concentration of endemic species in the United States. This unique geology and ecology, however, makes the area particularly susceptible to changing environmental conditions and fluctuating water supply. 

In 1968, water levels in Devil’s Hole began to drop, threatening to expose the shelf that sustains the pupfish. This drop in water level occurred shortly after the construction of a number of irrigation wells in the surrounding area. No mere coincidence, these wells were pumping groundwater from the very same aquifer that supplies Devil’s Hole with water. What followed was a years-long fight between conservationists, farmers, and the federal government. 

In 1971, the U.S. government took the owners of the irrigation wells–the Cappaerts–to court in hopes of limiting groundwater pumping to a level that would keep the pupfish alive. They argued that the federal government had a reserved right to the amount of water necessary to achieve the purpose for which the national park was created. In this case, that purpose being the preservation of the “scientific interest” of Devil’s Hole and the pupfish. This argument ultimately held, and the landmark case Cappaert v. United States stopped further groundwater pumping from the aquifer.

After the ruling, conservation efforts doubled down, and the campaign to “Save the Pupfish” was born. Support was organized by the local Desert Fishes Council, an advocacy group formed of concerned biologists and agency officials. Bumper stickers were distributed. However, not everyone was Team Pupfish. Many members of the public were not so keen on scaling back agricultural production in favor of one small species of fish. Can you really blame them for wanting to sustain their livelihood? One local publication went as far as to suggest using the chemical substance rotenone to poison the pupfish. The campaign to “Kill the Pupfish” had gained traction. Bumper stickers, again, were distributed. This opposition was spearheaded by local and county politicians with staunch anti-government and pro-development leanings. 

Ultimately, conservationists won out, and pupfish numbers soon rebounded. Still listed as an endangered species, they are not completely out of the woods. Population counts have fluctuated dramatically over the years, from lows of 35 in 2013 to over 200. Conservation efforts continue to this day, with a supplemental feeding program in effect and studies to understand the drivers of population changes. Even an artificial replica of Devil’s Hole was constructed to attempt to breed the pupfish in captivity. 

The story of the pupfish, unfortunately, is not unique when it comes to conflict over the environment and resource users. I used to conduct field work for Walker Basin Conservancy, an organization working on restoring Walker Lake–a desert terminal lake outside of Reno, NV–by acquiring water rights upstream and keeping that water in the system instead of diverting it for agricultural purposes. Walker Lake, once home to the Lahontan cutthroat trout, has lost nearly 90% of its volume in the last 100 years and has increased in salinity so much that it can barely support life. Once a yearly tradition, the last Loon Festival at the lake was held in 2009, as the birds now completely bypass the lake during their migration. Decades of water diversions upstream to “make the desert bloom” have left the lake a shell of its former self. For those reasons, a sort of rivalry has formed between the towns of Hawthorne–which sits on the banks of Walker Lake–and the upstream farming and mining town of Yerington–where I used to live. And any effort to support or restore the lake was viewed by some as an attack on their way of life.

I remember local residents of Yerington telling my coworkers that our work was futile and that we were trying to take away the jobs of farmers. Some even went as far as to verbally harass us at the gas station or grocery store. Water truly is life, and with more thirsty livestock, plants, and people than water to go around, tensions can quickly come to a boil. A famous quote often misattributed to Mark Twain embodies this idea: “Whiskey is for drinking, water is for fighting”. Ultimately, these conflicts in the Walker River basin and at Devil’s Hole speak to a much larger issue: water allocation and usage in the arid West. 

In the western states, the main legal doctrine for allocating water rights–that is, the right for someone to divert and put to use water from a stream or river–is a system known as prior appropriation. Essentially, a “first-come, first-serve” for a natural resource. If you were able to successfully take and use water from a system, you now had a claim tied to the year you did so. In times of shortage, those with older claims have first dibs on water. At the time of westward expansion by settlers, this made sense. It incentivized people to move out west and make a living off the land. The Homestead Act of 1862 provided 160 acres of land to any citizen that would live on and cultivate it. And in the desert, where any drop of water left in a river was considered “wasted”, this meant significant diversions of water onto land that was maybe only naturally flooded once every few years, if that. These uses of water were, and often still are, unsustainable and flew in the face of natural processes. Exorbitant irrigation to quench water-intensive livestock crops like alfalfa has no place in a drought-prone ecosystem. The doctrine of prior appropriation, however, says little about how efficient or eco-conscious a use of water needs to be. Nor are there explicit rules for when biodiverse ecosystems are threatened. Implementation and interpretation of this doctrine does vary state by state, with state agencies–like the Department of Ecology in Washington–responsible for regulating water allocation in accordance with state law. Nevertheless, this patchwork approach to management makes it difficult to handle water supply issues that transcend state boundaries. 

In the modern era, prior appropriation may not be cut out to handle the challenges of an uncertain future. Climate change is making droughts more frequent, groundwater is being pumped at levels far beyond the natural recharge rate, and many systems, like the Colorado river, are already overallocated. Effective management that recognizes the scarcity of water resources and emphasizes sustainability is direly needed. This will likely mean reorganizing how current water rights are distributed; a suggestion that won’t be taken lightly by many.

If current trends continue, it is inevitable that we will see more disputes over water resources in the future. The Devil’s Hole pupfish may have just been the canary in the coal mine for water conflict. The Amargosa Basin–the source of water to Devil’s Hole and Ash Meadows–is also overallocated, with unsustainable irrigation to blame. A reevaluation of what we grow, and even if we grow, in the desert must happen if we want to have enough water to sustain both human communities and unique biodiversity like the pupfish. John Wesley Powell, famed explorer and the second director of the US Geological Survey, wisely warned against the rampant development of the American West: “I tell you gentlemen you are piling up a heritage of conflict and litigation over water rights, for there is not enough water to supply the land”.