The Devils Hole pupfish is one of the rarest vertebrate animals on the planet; its only natural habitat is a ten-by-sixty-foot pool near Death Valley, on the Nevada—California border. Isolation in Devils Hole made the fish different from its close genetic relatives, but as Devils Hole Pupfish explores, what has made the species a survivor is its many surprising connections to the people who have studied, ignored, protested or protected it. “In Devils Hole Pupfish , author Kevin Brown provides a comprehensive, thoughtful, and, at times, witty account of the nearly century-long efforts to protect a one-inch-long, endangered blue fish, . . . Expanded into a riveting environmental history intended for a wide audience, Devils Hole Pupfish showcases the author’s deep familiarity with a wide range of historical and scientific sources, as well as a trove of government agency records” —Philip Garone, New Mexico Historical Review “Scientists who wish to explore the history of their field and to understand how human actions such as political and social movements can doom or save an endangered species are encouraged to read. His writing style is conversational, but not to the book’s detriment; rather, Brown’s prose is easily accessible to historians and scientists alike, as well as the general public.”  —David McCaskey, H-Net Reviews “In this fine book, Kevin Brown shows convincingly why a tiny fish matters in a big way. By tracking its rich history and the political entanglements it has engendered, he raises essential questions – ones specific to the pupfish, but extensible to other endangered species: Who gets to decide their fate? What survival tactics work best, and how long should those efforts continue? Ultimately, Brown illustrates one of the most important lessons of all: that life can be simultaneously persistent, adaptable, and fragile.” — Daniel Lewis , author of Belonging on an Island: Birds, Extinction, and Evolution in Hawaii “This crystalline gem of a book considers the improbable survival of a small, obscure, and critically endangered aquatic animal, the Devils Hole pupfish, that has the most restricted habitat of any known vertebrate species. Deeply researched, engagingly presented, and convincingly argued, this is a remarkable story, one that is important and exceptionally well told.” — Mark V. Barrow Jr, professor of history, Virginia Tech, and author of Nature’s Ghost: Confronting Extinction from the Age of Jefferson to the Age of Ecology "A delightful and thought-provoking yarn, rich in good humor--and deep environmental meaning--in the best traditions of the new American west." — Joshua P. Howe , professor of history and environmental studies, Reed College, and author of Behind the Curve: Science and the Politics of Global Warming and Making Climate Change History "You have probably never heard of the Devils Hole pupfish.  In his fine and widely ranging book, Kevin Brown reveals that this “one inch long, twitchy blue fish” is a microcosm of the contentious histories of wilderness, science, water, and policy in the modern American West. This tiny fish contains multitudes." — Anita Guerrini , Oregon State University   Kevin C. Brown works with his head and his hands on the east side of California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. He is a research associate in the University of California, Santa Barbara’s, Environmental Studies Program, and has also worked as a journalist and as a researcher for the National Park Service and the American Society for Environmental History. Introduction: Surviving the Meteor Sixty thousand years ago, the roof of a water-filled cavern collapsed just east of Death Valley in what is now southern Nye County, Nevada. Channeling a cosmology that saw dark forces in both geological oddities and the wilderness, nineteenth-century Anglo-American visitors gave this place the name "Devils Hole." This roughly funnel-shaped feature is, improbably, a window into a vast subterranean lake. When you stand on the platform at the top of the Devils Hole fissure and look down to the pool, forty-five feet below, you are staring into an aquifer, a rare vantage point. Water remains a constant ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit in Devils Hole; one researcher diving there said it felt like returning to the womb.3 U.S. Geological Survey divers descended into the darkness to a depth of 436 feet but saw neither bottom nor any evidence of the two teenage divers who disappeared into the abyss in 1965.4 Devils Hole, for all practical purposes, is bottomless. Deserts are defined by their aridity. But Devils Hole is on the eastern edge of a relatively lush patch of the Amargosa Desert called Ash Meadows. Along with a series of faults that run on a northwest-southeast line near Devils Hole, a network of more than a dozen large springs and numerous seeps discharge some 10,000 gallons of water every minute, producing oases in the desert that stretch across some 50,000 acres of l