This week we're bunking on the Pearl River near Bogalusa, Louisiana. We're on the Mississippi side of the river, but you could throw a stone into Louisiana. Of course, this being rural southern Mississippi, nobody throws stones, gunfire is more the norm. Our host sits on his porch and shoots his .308 into Louisiana—180 yards, he says. Last night he had the .223 ready to shoot a hog out the back door. They were jittery when they came to feed, however, and so we'll wait for another day. Besides, after a dinner of boiled (pronounced "bowled") peanuts and moonshine, I didn't need any more excitement.
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