CHAPTER XII 
THE CALIFORNIA SHEEPSHEAD 
“ Out in the golden sunshine, 
Throw we the net and line. 
The silvery lines to-day 
Flash in the silvery spray. 
So throw the line, throw-yo, heave-ho!” 
—Me_rivaLE. Zhe Fisherman's Song. 
THE region represented on the map by South- 
ern California and its contiguous high seas is 
supposed by many to be a land of perennial sum- 
mer, and to a certain extent this is true. The 
summer alongshore is a comfortable season, 
cooler than that of any Atlantic state; the winter 
a cooler summer, when the mercury drops into 
the roaring thirties and wild flowers insist upon 
coming into bloom. It is not a real winter, yet 
certain fishes, creatures of habit, insist upon their 
prerogative and make this floral, verdant winter 
an excuse for following the ancient and honored 
custom of their confréres in other and colder seas; 
in a word, they migrate. 
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