It began quietly, as disasters in water often do. No sirens, no flames, just a slow-spreading stain in the current. One moment, Lizard Creek, a lifeline coursing through Fort Dodge, Iowa, ran clear and spring-fed. The next, it clouded brown, tinged with ammonia, and death followed the flow.
The spill was traced to the CJ Bio America plant, where a byproduct rich in nitrogen, a remnant of fertilizer processing, slipped loose on April 14. It seeped into the South Branch of the creek, an artery of delicate life. Over the next fifteen miles downstream, the damage unfolded invisibly at first, then in shocking numbers.
By the time the Iowa Department of Natural Resources could piece together the toll, more than 71,000 fish lay dead. Not bass or catfish or anything that might turn heads at a weigh-in, but minnows, shiners, dace, and creek chub the small, overlooked workhorses of the ecosystem. The ones that feed the ones that feed us.
It’s a blow that cuts deep for those who understand the true architecture of a stream. These weren’t just forage fish. They were the circulatory system, pulsing with nutrients, transferring energy between insects and gamefish, between algae and eagle. Take them out, and you hollow out the creek’s soul.
The DNR, to its credit, responded fast. Investigators noted that cool water temperatures and a swollen spring flow helped buffer what could have been an even greater disaster. Larger fish, including prized smallmouth bass, had likely not yet moved into the branch from the Des Moines River. That timing spared them. But timing is cold comfort when the creek’s base layer is gone.
The estimated cost of the damage is nearly $74,000. That’s the figure on a page, anyway. A cold ledger entry for a living system silenced. Another $2,000 went into the investigation itself. The company, CJ Bio America, has remained in communication with state officials. Water testing now shows the pollutant has passed. No more ammonia. But the fish don’t return that easily.
There will be cleanup, yes. Maybe even mitigation. But nature doesn’t operate on a billing cycle. What took decades to balance a microcosm of species weaving a quiet choreography was undone in a matter of hours.
Enforcement actions are still pending. The DNR hasn’t announced what, if any, penalties CJ Bio America will face. For now, they are monitoring. Measuring. Writing reports.
And downstream, the creek carries on, emptier than before, its chorus dimmed. This isn’t just a fish kill. It’s a lesson. A reminder that even the most unassuming stretch of water holds more life, more consequence, than most people ever see. And that when industry missteps, it’s often the small lives the ones without voice or vote, that pay the steepest price.
