A long time ago, a friend and I were toting some artillery stuff. The gun and limber had been loaded on the trailer, and moved. We were carrying the limber pole, and the prolong. (I can't remember why these things weren't on the trailer, but they weren't.) Up rides a covey of officers. You know officer's ain't real bright, and one of 'em asked what we were up to. "He's got a line, and I've got a pole. We're going fishing. What the h--- does it look like we're doing?" Well, it plumb shut 'em up.
Another time, we thought we should get a mess of silver-colored plastic spoons and scatter on the ground before the breastworks at Selma, but decided against it. We didn't want to get in trouble for shooting over a baited field.