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I spent last weekend in California's beautiful Plumas County — land of 100 lakes, over 1,000 miles of streams and millions of acres of Forest Service land — riding along with Fish and Game Wardens Bob Orange and Zeke Awbrey.

The last snows of the winter above 5,000 feet mixed with thawing temperatures, making for some treacherous ice conditions in places, but a thousand feet lower in the valleys, deer and turkeys were everywhere, waiting to go up higher for the summer. Add in redbuds blooming along the creeks and fishermen in boats catching lunker trout on Lake Almanor: Truly a sportsman's paradise.

But we also saw too much of something that is a black mark on every hunter and shooter: gunshot signs.

"You can hunt on the left side of this road, but the right side is the boundary of a state game refuge," Lt. Bob Orange said, as we bounced along in his patrol rig on a dirt road out of Taylorsville.

"People come up here to hunt, which is OK on the right side. If I catch them on the wrong side of the road, they will say they never saw a sign. So in the first half mile, I've put up 45 'State Game Refuge' signs," he said, nodding toward a large yellow sign on a tree. And 50 yards down the road, there was another sign, but this one had been blasted with buckshot; two more had been stripped from the trees.

"Some people figure if they tear down the signs, then they can get away with poaching on the refuge. I like to catch the guys who do this. I can add in vandalism to any fish and game violations."

Bob's explanation for why the refuge signs are shot and torn down makes sense but it also describes the motivational profile of some might call a "slob hunter."

Some folks simply make mistakes. One turkey hunter we stopped on the patrol had one shell left in the chamber of his shotgun riding on the rack behind the seat.

"I thought I took out all the shells," the hunter said with a red face. If he had left two in the magazine, it would have been legal, but a shell in the chamber in a vehicle is a misdemeanor. Bob wrote a citation.

"It's the unloaded guns that always cause the accidents," Bob said, handing the hunter the ticket.

The ticket will cost him over a hundred bucks. That hunter probably won't ever make that mistake again, if it were indeed a mistake.

Some guys like to think they can stretch the limits and laws a little. Maybe they get a kick out of it. Maybe they are rebelling against authority. Maybe they are insecure and feel they have to come home with something to appear manly.

Each one is different but they all are exploiting resources at the cost of everyone else.

Serious poachers, on the other hand, are a different breed: They tend to be repeat offenders, often with prior records for criminal and civil offenses. Methamphetamine and serious poaching has become a common occurrence. Outlaw types will get high on meth, maybe even make some of their own, so they can stay up all night to poach fish and game. Chasing down these characters is challeng, as they are high as a kite and maybe also a little delusional.

Later on our ride, we came to a dam on the north fork of The Feather River that flows out of Lake Almanor.

We had to walk about a quarter-mile through snow to get in to the dam, where there is a fish ladder. Even though there was 2 feet of snow on the ground, birds were singing and green buds were popping out on some trees.

"In the next couple weeks there will be swarms of big spawning trout schooling below this dam," Warden Zeke Awbrey said, as we walked down the embankment. "It's illegal to fish within 250 feet of this place, but if you come in here, especially at night, sometimes there will be a dozen or more guys here trying to snag the spawners."

As with the refuge, the signs on the fencing around the fish ladder were shot up with shotgun blasts and rifle holes, even though the signs clearly said gunfire was illegal within 500 feet of the dam and fish ladder.

Smaller signs on the trees posted 10 feet up the trunk were also shot up. The metal door on the shed that holds the valves regulating the water flow through the fish ladder was also perforated by gunfire from close range.

OK, folks, this looks more like antisocial personality disorder at work than just some immature "sportsmen."

If I can slip into my other self as a psychologist, which I've been for almost four decades, ASPD shows up in late adolescence and is associated with a consistent disregard for authority, the law and the rights of others, a sense of extreme entitlement, lying and cheating, impulsiveness and substance abuse. According to the American Psychiatric Association's DSM-IV, Antisocial Personality disorder is diagnosed in approximately 3 percent of all males and 1 percent of all females, and is heavily correlated with people who commit crimes.

Bob and Zeke replaced the signs in anticipation of the coming spawn.

"When the big fish start coming in here a in a week or two, we just might be hiding in the woods watching," Bob said, nodding toward a thick stand of trees nearby.

"We'll get pictures of the whole thing. Snagging is illegal anyplace, and it's illegal to fish within 250 feet of the fish ladder. That's two counts and probably worth about $500 in fines."

"What about the guys who shoot the signs?" I asked.

"If we can catch them in the act, then it's vandalism, which means an additional $1500 fine, and probably confiscation of their firearms," he replied.

"And, we will probably wait and make the contact after they walk away maybe a hundred yards, because if they leave any trash behind, we can add in littering, which can double the fine," Zeke added with a grin.

Nail 'em, guys.

James Swan — who has appeared in more than a dozen feature films, including "Murder in the First" and "Star Trek: First Contact," as well as the television series "Nash Bridges," "Midnight Caller" and "Modern Marvels" — is the author of the book "In Defense of Hunting." Click to purchase a copy. To learn more about Swan, visit his Web site.