Do not tell fish stories where the people know you; but particularly, don’t tell them where they know the fish. — Mark Twain
I’m just a little fish, not three inches long.
But my story speaks volumes.
Which is why America’s biggest fish is gunning for me.
Donald Trump has taken more shots at me than at Vladimir Putin. He called me a “worthless fish” on Truth Social. And worst of all, he blamed me for January’s Los Angeles fires, suggesting I somehow stopped water imports to Southern California, keeping fire hydrants dry.
The president also used me to justify his crazy decision to unleash two massive releases from two lakes that wasted water that our farmers will need this summer. Luckily, no one was killed in the Central Valley by this Trump-ordered flood — or those deaths would have been my fault too.
I haven’t responded to any of this, because what can I say? It hasn’t mattered to Trump that I have one whale of an alibi when it comes to the L.A. fires:
I’ve never been to Los Angeles!
I’m a fish that can live only in the California Delta. So, rest assured, I couldn’t have started the Palisades or Eaton fires — or framed Roger Rabbit or killed the Black Dahlia. I’m one of those things you can only find in Northern California, like good sourdough.
For the record, I’ve never met Gov. Gavin Newsom, much less convinced him to keep more water in the Delta to protect me. The truth, if anyone still cares about that, is that I’m so low on the food chain that Californians wrote me off long ago.
Let me take you to school. I used to be ubiquitous in my particular part of California. But by the mid-20th century, my numbers went into steep decline. There were many culprits: disease; invasive species like clams and mussels; and greater pumping of Delta water to supply California cities and farms, which impacted the flows of the fresh, cold water that is my lifeblood.
By 1993, I was labeled a “threatened” species, in hopes that it would save me, but conditions got worse. By 2009, I officially became endangered.
That designation can sometimes inspire humans to save a species. The yellow-legged frog is making a comeback up in lakes and streams of the Sierra with human assistance. But I haven’t enjoyed that kind of support.
California’s agricultural interests made me their bogey-fish, blaming me when the state government, in dry years, cut water imports from the Delta for farmers. Trump, parroting this pastoral propaganda, tried to kill me off during his first term, but the state beat him back in the courts.
The lies about my awfulness may well continue beyond my actual existence. Today, I’m extinct in the wild. For years, scientists have been searching for me in the Delta, but they can’t find me — in the same way that years of investigation haven’t turned up any evidence that the 2020 election was stolen.
More bad news: The Delta smelt captive breeding program (which is even less sexy than it sounds), housed at UC Davis, has struggled to produce more of me — and may soon be dead. The Trump administration just pulled federal funding, as retribution for my supposed plot to burn down Los Angeles.
One last thing to know about me: scientists often called me “an indicator species,” meaning that my health is a pretty good proxy for the health of the Delta ecosystem. I’m afraid that I also might represent how the vulnerable are going to be treated in this new America.
These days, politicians all say they are for the little fish, but when the water is fouled, they are quick to blame trans people, civil servants, children whose parents aren’t citizens, and anyone else too small and unpopular to fight back.
Scapegoating me, or any living thing, doesn’t solve our real problems — it just spreads the cruelty in our own ecosystems. “When we judge, we are always in a psychic space which is circular,” warned the late French philosopher and Stanford professor Rene Girard, who wrote about the human tendency to scapegoat.
Take it from me. This is a moment to stop blaming, and to start fighting as if your very existence were at stake.
I’d join you, but I lack the size and legal authority to fight humans and governments.
What’s your excuse?
Joe Mathews writes the Connecting California column for Zócalo Public Square, an ASU Media Enterprise publication.
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