The Florida House of Representatives voted to approve the removal of the Rodman Dam, a structure that has separated two local waterways for decades. Conservation groups argue that the environmental benefits of removing the dam for the historic communities along the St. Johns River outweigh local concerns.
The dam, also known as the Kirkpatrick Dam, was built in 1968 as part of the Cross Florida Barge Canal, a project authorized by Congress in 1942 to create a shipping route across the Florida peninsula. The canal was designed to connect the Gulf of Mexico near Yankeetown with the Atlantic Ocean near Jacksonville. Construction began in earnest in the 1960s, with the Army Corps of Engineers using a machine called the “Crusher Crawler” to clear the path. The dam was a 7,200-foot structure across the lower Ocklawaha River, creating the 10,000-acre Rodman Reservoir, which stretched 15 miles and reached two miles in width near the dam.
The reservoir submerged more than 7,500 acres of forested wetlands and 16 miles of the river’s natural channel. More than 20 freshwater springs that had fed the Ocklawaha River for thousands of years were buried under up to 20 feet of dark sediment and turbid water. Wildlife migration routes connecting the St. Johns River to Silver Springs were cut off.
In 1971, President Richard Nixon halted the canal project entirely by executive order. Environmental opposition had been growing since construction began, led by scientist Marjory Harris Carr, who founded Florida Defenders of the Environment and organized 162 scientists in support of the cause. The canal was deemed destructive to Florida’s natural systems. Work stopped, but the dam and reservoir remained, and the springs stayed buried despite the fact that the project they were sacrificed for had been fully abandoned.
Before the dam was built, the Ocklawaha River flowed clearly and swiftly, heavily influenced by outflows from Silver Springs, which pumped an average of 550 million gallons of crystal-clear water per day into the Silver River, which feeds the Ocklawaha. This natural engine gave the river its character, temperature, and biological richness. After the dam was built, the river above became a stagnant artificial pool requiring constant human intervention to remain suitable as a fishing reservoir.
The reservoir served no practical purpose. It did not provide drinking water, generate electricity, or function as part of a transportation network. It existed only as a remnant of a cancelled project, blocking a river that wanted to flow freely and burying a natural world beneath its surface.
Before the dam was built, a University of Florida scientist named Elizabeth Abbot documented the locations of 20 springs that began to disappear as the reservoir filled. Springs with names like Blue, Bright Angel, Cedar Landing, Mullet Cove, and Tobacco Patch were among those lost. They provided cold, clear, mineral-rich water at a constant temperature year-round. Manatees, which migrate seasonally through Florida’s waterways, depended on the warm spring water during the winter months. Without these springs, manatees lost access to a network of natural warm-water refuges.
Before the dam was completed in 1968, eight marine species, including the American eel, American shad, striped bass, and several types of mullet, migrated along the Ocklawaha River to Silver Springs. The dam ended that movement, isolating species that depended on free passage between the Atlantic Ocean and inland waters for breeding and feeding. Fish populations declined across the entire connected system, including at Silver Springs itself.
The reservoir also caused water quality problems. Cypress trees flooded before the reservoir filled began to rot, consuming oxygen from the water as they decomposed. In the 1980s, fish kills were recorded as oxygen levels collapsed. The water turned dark and murky. Maintaining the reservoir required herbicide use every few years to control invasive aquatic plants, a cycle that released nitrogen and phosphorus downstream toward the St. Johns River.
Periodically, when vegetation became unmanageable, the Florida Department of Environmental Protection lowered water levels from 18 feet to 11 feet above mean sea level by draining water through the dam’s spillway. During those short drawdown windows, the buried springs temporarily reappeared. Old cypress trees that had been underwater for decades emerged, their gray trunks silt-covered but still structurally intact. Wildlife returned to the exposed riverbed, and photographers, birdwatchers, paddlers, and naturalists came from across the country to observe it.
Efforts to remove the dam began after construction was completed, but for decades, Putnam County, the rural area where Lake Rodman is located, became a stronghold of opposition to removal. Local politicians argued the lake was an economic lifeline, attracting fishermen, boaters, and recreational users. The lake had become part of the local identity. Environmentalists and conservation organizations built a case on the other side: the dam had flooded more than 7,500 acres of forested wetlands, submerged 20 springs and 16 miles of the Ocklawaha River, and caused damage to threatened wetland species and the St. Johns River system. The Army Corps of Engineers classified the dam as a high-hazard structure, meaning its failure could cause substantial downstream damage and potential loss of life. By the time the dam reached its designed 50-year lifespan, continued operation was a public safety concern as well as an environmental one.
In 2025, the Florida legislature approved more than $6.25 million to begin planning for the dam’s removal and river restoration. Governor Ron DeSantis vetoed the funding. The fight moved to the 2026 legislative session, where lawmakers introduced the Northeast Florida Rivers, Springs, and Communities Investment Act. The Florida House passed the legislation by a vote of 107 to 3, a margin reflecting how significantly public opinion had shifted. A companion measure in the Senate advanced through committee with one dissenting vote across three committees. The bill called for demolition of the Kirkpatrick Dam by December 31, 2032, restoration of natural flow between Silver Springs, the Ocklawaha River, and the St. Johns River, plus provisions for recreational infrastructure, economic development grants for surrounding communities, and an advisory council including local government representation. Supporters described it as a regional revitalization project that would create a 217-mile “Great Florida Riverway” stretching from Lake Apopka near Orlando to the Atlantic Ocean near Jacksonville.
The Senate companion bill did not come up for a final vote before the end of the 2026 session, leaving the fate of the restoration uncertain as of mid-2026. The momentum built during this period was significant, reflecting a broad, nonpartisan consensus that took decades to develop.
The broader vision involves a connected water system across 12 Florida counties, directly or indirectly restoring more than 50 springs linked to the same hydrological network. Silver Springs, the most famous artesian spring in the world, lost much of its biodiversity without fish migration through the full river system. Restoring free passage would reconnect Silver Springs to migratory fish populations it had not seen for more than 50 years.
Manatees face ongoing threats from boat collisions, habitat loss, and cold weather. During winter months, they seek warm-water refuges. Power plants that once provided artificial warm water are being taken out of service. Restoring the Ocklawaha’s 20 springs would provide winter refuges for an estimated 1,000 manatees that currently rely on artificial, temporary warm-water sources. Natural springs maintain a constant temperature year-round.
Fish populations would also recover. Striped bass, American shad, American eel, catfish, mullet, and Atlantic sturgeon would regain migration routes closed since 1968. This recovery would extend to the lower St. Johns River estuary, where aquatic plants and fish have suffered from years of degradation. Periodic drawdowns of the reservoir released large amounts of nitrogen and phosphorus into the lower St. Johns River, disrupting salinity balance and harming commercial and recreational fishing. Permanent restoration would end that cycle.
During a drawdown in October 2025, state officials lowered the reservoir from 18 to 11 feet above mean sea level. The rare sight of the river recovering attracted visitors from across the country, including international tourists, hikers, paddlers, and wildlife photographers. The drawdown lasted until March 2026, and tour operators reported significant growth in interest in the area. Businesses observed that the temporary ecotourism activity surpassed what the reservoir generated during normal operations. During the 2025 drawdown, seedlings were already emerging from the exposed riverbed, indicating that natural vegetation would recover faster than opponents of restoration had expected. Forest ecologists noted that the underlying soil structure remained intact after decades of submersion, and native plant communities were able to reestablish relatively quickly once water levels dropped.
Florida has undertaken similar restoration before, most prominently with the Kissimmee River, which was channelized in the mid-20th century and then painstakingly restored over decades. Scientists documented remarkable ecological recovery within years of restoration beginning, with wading bird populations, fish diversity, and plant communities returning in ways that exceeded initial projections.
Public support for removal has shifted significantly, from only 15 percent in favor in 2017 to 77 percent in a 2022 poll of voters in Putnam and Marion counties. Legislative support has grown substantially. The final decision remains pending, with the question being whether to allow the river to flow freely again and whether the springs beneath the water still hold life.
