One of my grandfathers, who died in the early 1960s, was never happier than when he was sitting out in front of his house with a pair of pliers and a sharp knife, skinning and gutting a gunnysack full of bullheads. He loved to catch and eat those things. I know I tried them, but I can't remember how they tasted.
Last edited by Missouri Bill; 06/20/12 08:59 AM.
