1140 
FOREST AND STREAM 
WILD LIFE ALONG THE RIVER PEARL 
A LITTLE FREQUENTED AND LITTLE KNOWN MISSISSIPPI HUNT¬ 
ING PARADISE THAT AWAITS THE LOVER OF ROD AND GUN 
By W. E. Davidson, Deputy Game Warden of Mississippi. 
H AVING previously arranged with J. W. 
Courtney as guide and cook on this trip, I 
left Jackscn, Miss., on the morning of May 
io, 1916, and after a drive of 23 miles I arrived 
at his home, where I found him with everything 
ready. Leaving there the next morning we drove 
to Offahoma in Leake County, where we began 
our long trip back down the river. 
Offahoma is a quaint old Indian town, nestling 
on the banks of Yocknayouckna creek, amidst 
the lofty pines just above where it empties into 
Pearl River. It is still sleeping in its quiet way, 
still listening to the soft sighing of the wind in 
the branches of the forest trees, waving the 
shadows back and forth, up and down over the 
crystal waters of this creek, fed by a thousand 
springs, and flowing onward until it mingles with 
the waters of Pearl River, then onward to the 
gulf. 
We saw plenty of turkey and squirrels here, 
but it being the closed season we could not shoot 
them. Pushing down stream from here, with 
Courtney at the paddle, we soon left behind this 
quaint old town. Several miles below I got out 
my fishing tackle and with live spot-tail minnows 
soon had enough to grace our frying pan. I 
found black bass and white perch plentiful here, 
and could have taken almost any desired number 
for they would strike almost every cast. We 
finished our meal and pipes and resumed our 
journey at 1.30 P. M. Squirrels barked and chat¬ 
tered. Kingfishers swooped and cackled, and as 
we rounded a bend two large blue cranes rose 
and sailed up stream to stilt around in some 
shallow place until perhaps some other passerby 
started them up again. Nature was truly beauti¬ 
ful here. Stately oaks and pines, chinquapins and 
beech lined the banks for miles with their spread¬ 
ing branches entwined with muscadine vines, 
with clusters of green muscadines as large as 
Concord grapes; wild honeysuckle and mag¬ 
nolias were in bloom, and intermingling their 
perfumes, shed a fragrance over the whole forest. 
The white sandbars were glistening in the sun, 
with now and then a soft-shelled turtle drying 
in its rays. 
We were now at the mouth of Yocknayouckna 
and in Pearl River proper. A place to camp 
for the night was our object now. We found 
one about two miles on a long white sandbar, 
the crest covered with a carpet of Bermuda 
grass, with several sugarloaf shape catawba trees 
that made it an inviting place. Courtney called 
me at 4 o’clock next morning to coffee and flap- 
jacks, which were soon over and to pack up was 
a matter of only a few minutes and we were off 
for the day. 
Twenty miles below here Coffeebogue Creek 
mingles its waters with the Pearl. We passed 
great gravel beds, worth millions of dollars, long 
pebble shoals, over which the crystal waters 
leaped and danced, and tried to tell me in mute 
language of Indian legions in song and story of 
the Choctaw braves that trod its shores in the 
long ago, in quest of game and perhaps the scalp 
of some early settler. Two miles below here we 
saw our first deer—two does and a fawn—that 
bounded away on our approach, up the bar and 
over the banks and were soon out of sight. 
Two eagles were circling overhead and as I 
stepped ashore I heard the swish of the air and 
the “put, put, put” of some wild turkeys on the 
