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A small fishing lure company in Newman Lake struggled to stay afloat when orders dried up during the early stages of the pandemic, but orders have started to come in since fishing reopened.
For the fourth time in at least a year, Spokane police planted a bike outside the Safeway grocery store at Mission Avenue and Hamilton Street in north Spokane, hoping to bait people into walking away with an expensive new toy.
Spokane police planted an expensive mountain bike to catch thieves Wednesday outside the Safeway grocery store at Mission Avenue and Hamilton Street, an area rife with property crime in recent weeks.
This column is an Internet intervention, a public service column to save your face. A lot of intelligent people are looking like fools on the Internet.
A judge handed down a penalty Friday for a North Idaho teenager who shot and killed a federally protected grizzly bear last fall north of Wallace. The 14-year-old boy was charged with the unlawful killing of a grizzly, an endangered species, and hunting without a bear tag. Because he is a juvenile, his case is sealed and the penalty was not disclosed.
From the very beginning, my 10-year-old friend Eddie and I were as infatuated with the process of catching bait as we were in catching fish. Our typical fishing expedition, in fact, was so handicapped with jars, cans, boxes, and buckets of wiggly things it was difficult to find room on our bikes for our tackle. Seldom did we leave my yard for the Little Spokane River without at least a few hellgrammites, a jar of grasshoppers and of course – a big coffee can of nightcrawlers. For us, gathering bait provided an excuse for being outside the entire spring and summer, gave us direction, and kept us wet and dirty – positive, consequential considerations, despite our mothers’ notions to the contrary. Nothing else made us feel quite so free as plunging recklessly into the Little Spokane River in search of crawdads, and easing a seven-inch nightcrawler from the back lawn at midnight under the dim approval of a dying flashlight was exhilarating.
The arrival of Eastern Washington’s fishing season inspired my children, all whom love to fish, to jump into action Easter weekend. Rods were gathered and strung, tackle sorted and organized. The girls selected outdoor ensembles to match the color of salmon eggs, while the boys sharpened every pocketknife.
Hunters in the Idaho Panhandle would be allowed to bait wolves under a proposal being discussed by state officials. Idaho Fish and Game officials want more hunters to take a wolf, saying that reducing pack numbers would help reverse declines in elk numbers in the upper St. Joe River drainage.
When I told some fly fishing buddies I was heading out to target whitefish recently, you’d have thought I was making an alibi for bushwhacking to a still in the decade after Prohibition. “You don’t HAVE to go whitefishing anymore,” said Hugh Evans, a Spokane attorney with enough legal experience to understand most of Idaho’s fishing regulations.
Mick Palanuk of Grand Coulee offered this recipe for success after hearing other anglers vent their frustration in foiled quests to harvest trout. 1. Put a handful of miniature marshmallows on a sheet of plastic wrap.
A trail of pink and purple stains runs along the floor of the Water’s Edge Tackle Shop in Clarkston. The handle on the front door is stained, as are the telephone and other frequently used items. The colorful clues lead to Stu Waters, the self-proclaimed shrimp king of the Lewiston-Clarkston Valley and beyond, who’s been curing and dying shrimp with a secret blend of scents and color.