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Bald Head Island
Living in North Carolina my entire life, I am not sure how I spent a lifetime, no more than two hours away from Bald Head Island, and never managed to discover this amazing treasure. It is truly one of North Carolina’s best-kept secrets. It has a look about it that makes you feel you are on an…
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Five Facts About North Carolina BBQ
Pulled, Chopped, Whole Hog, Pork Shoulders, Vinegar, or Ketchup Based Sauce, In North Carolina BBQ is King, and these are Five Facts You Need to Know!
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The Pig: The Quintessential Southerner
To study the history of the pig in the South, we must start in the rolling pastures of Spain—the dehesa. The dehesa is a combination of grassland and oak savannah found in Spain and Portugal and is known for producing cork and charcoal from the trees as well as the famous fighting bulls from the pastures. But, the most treasured…
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Robert Johnson: Hell Hound On My Trail
I love legends and lore and ghostly tales from the Southland, and one of the most prominent spooky Southern legends is the story of how boy from Mississippi became king of the delta blues. Robert Leroy Johnson was born in Hazlehurst, Mississippi, on May 8th, 1911...
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Franklin’s Turkey
Legend says that Benjamin Franklin wanted the Wild Turkey as the National Symbol instead of the Bald Eagle, but do you know the real story?
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Ghostly Tales : The Bridge
It’s long been said that “the darkest hour is just before the dawn,” and even before these words were first spoken, man has feared the darkness and what it conceals in its shadows. So for a man to have a desire to pursue a creature such as a duck (my chosen species) into the early morning darkness of a swamp, one must have the ability to, at the very least, suppress his fears with the reason that you are more likely to be killed by a snapping turtle falling from a cypress tree, than to be killed by a ghost. But I will never forget the morning that I began…
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Ghostly Tales Of Big Marsh Swamp Pt.2
The rest of 2013 I did not return to this swamp, I frequently made excuses not to go. But November 2014 the ducks got too thick and once more the itch became too strong. One evening I made up my mind I was going back, but this time not by myself. I called my long-time friend Johnathon to go with me. I was careful to not sound desperate for his company, but I had decided if he did not go I sure as black berry bush has thorns, was not going into that hole alone
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The Path to the Farm Or When I Fought The Ghost Naked
The path to the farmhouse was unimpressive, just a gap in the cornfield that disappeared into the stalks. The only thing beyond the usual was the banged up mail box with the Stars and Stripes painted on it, the lid dangling by just one rivet after fending off the relentless attack of nocturnal beer bottles. Those heat seekers of the night were forever launched by the anonymous backhanded gunners who rolled the roads between Black Creek and Lucama...
