Calls early on a Monday morning usually aren't good news.

This one was no different. One of my wardens, asking what the protocol was for pollution spills into creeks. Seems someone who converted a school bus into a camper decided to crash it a little before midnight last night.

And leaked their transmission fluid into the creek. And whatever else might have come out of their sideways engine block.

Ummmm, I don't know of any protocol. But if there is one, it's a fisheries problem, not mine. Better call one of the fish guys.

The phone rings again shortly thereafter. The fish crew whose responsibility covers this creek has absolutely no one in the office on this Monday morning. The nearest crew to respond is 140-some miles away.

We're a lot closer. "Could we check to see if there's a serious problem first?"

"You want a field trip?"

Well, yeah, of course. Any day in the field is better than any office day. But I got way too much to do in the office.

See you in about a half-hour.

The wreck is gone, of course, but the site isn't hard to find.

First off, it's the only place this highway crosses this particular creek. Second, it's the place where asphalt changes to gravel, which is why the accident occurred in the first place. And third was all the tiny fragments of shattered glass.

And the pink transmission fluid in the shoreline mud.

Thing is, that's about all there is in the creek. That, and a small pool of floating pink gunk in a hole in one of the culverts.

There are fish swimming happily in the pool above the culvert, with the pinkened shoreline. Small fish, true, but that's about all there is in this part of the stream.

We check below the culvert, below the wreck.

Nothing. No oil, no transmission fluid. No skim on the water at all. I swipe my finger through the water and mud, and it comes back smelling like, well, mud. And muddy water. Nothing chemical at all. In fact, there's a whole school of fish fry swimming just as happily immediately below the culverts.

Other than the one air hole, the culverts are completely submerged on both ends. Which means nothing floating on the water's surface could get through.

Like oil or transmission fluid.

The only pollution left in the creek is the pink scum in the airhole.

Which was quickly and easily removed with a little handy foxtail.

Now, one might still worry about the pollutants hanging onto the shoreline mud, right?

Except, did you notice the wooden lath in the photo?

This entire creek crossing is soon to be torn up with heavy equipment, upgrading the highway and an adjoining county road.

In preparation for huge pieces of wind turbines that are supposed to pass this way.

This little, minute spill of transmission fluid is nothing compared to what this stretch of creek will soon suffer.

We called the fish crew.

And canceled their trip to the field.