Fishing Line

A poacher's image remains locked in feudal romance: a rascal with a rabbit in a sack, a peasant triumphant over gamekeepers and starvation. Robin Hood was a poacher, and Davy Crockett killed 105 bears in seven months. Yet those ways are no longer a matter for warm lore. Modern poachers mow down elk, including their calves, with AK-47 assault rifles. Or run over wounded deer when bullets run out. They harvest organs and paws from bears and leave the carcasses to rot.

Shirley Jones jammed a piece of anchovy onto the hook at the end of her fishing line on Thursday and then hurled it off the Ventura Pier, hoping some halibut might nibble. The 50-year-old Santa Paula woman had caught four fish so far, but tossed two back because they were too small, she said. Jones, who has been casting lines from the Ventura Pier since her teens, was taking advantage of the few days left before the pier is shut down for a year by concentrating on some serious fishing.

University of Washington safety Tommie Smith of Antelope Valley High withdrew from summer school classes this week, a move that might cost him his eligibility this fall. "In terms of grade point, Tommie is OK with the university. It is just that he has failed to complete enough units to meet NCAA requirements," said Coach Don James, who confirmed Smith's withdrawal from the first session of summer school. "He still has a chance to make them up, but I have no idea if he will," James said.

What do you do when a flock of birds is "do-do-ing" it in your gleaming new lake? And on your manicured landscaping? And, especially, on prospective tenants who stray under their flight path at, shall we say, an inopportune moment? If you're Water Gardens developer Jerry Snyder, with the largest commercial development on the Westside at stake, you call in a flock of experts and quickly heed their advice.

The sun had fallen behind a heavy bank of clouds and a chill breeze whipped in from the ocean. Mike Pyon, a fishing pole in hand, stood in the darkness at the end of Redondo Pier, shivering. So far, he hadn't caught so much as a decent sunset. "I ain't catching anything," the 18-year-old Los Angeles resident grumbled. The only apparent source of warmth for Pyon, who was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, was the cigarette clamped between his lips. How was his night going? "Coooooold!"

Oxnard officials have been warned by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to remove fishing lines used to keep birds out of ponds at the city-owned golf course or face a $10,000 fine for every bird killed by the lines. Employees at River Ridge Golf Course have used lines for about two years to keep sea gulls from landing in the ponds and carrying litter onto the course. However, U.S.

Teresa and Timothy Meek don't know how they will survive the oil spill. Each day they shove off from the Newport Pier about 4 a.m. and return later the same day to sell their fish to the public in a ramshackle, makeshift market the fleet has dubbed Fresh Fish Lane. On most weekends, the market is crowded and the fish is usually sold out by about 1 p.m. But not many people were buying Sunday.

Life and fishing were simpler when cane poles were the craze and the only artificial products were traditional lures and flies. Flies came wet or dry, and that was enough to keep anglers happy. Nobody longed for a graphite rod or an electric reel. Where would you plug it in? Then tackle makers convinced anglers that they really needed high tech to bag those beauties, so fishing became big business.

Thanks to the efforts of organizer Tony Salas and 54 Southern California fishermen, nearly 11,000 needy persons will have enjoyed fish dinners by the time the holiday season is over. Salas, a Los Angeles businessman who has sponsored similar trips for the last 3 years, said the results of the third annual Fish for the Homeless Derby, held Dec. 11 and 17, far surpassed his expectations. "I can't think of a better Christmas present than to feed all those people," he said.