Unsheltered And Uncounted: Rural America's Hidden Homeless

Charles Bowers takes long, quick strides down a worn, dirt path and stops in front of a tall thicket of bushes. He lifts a hand to signal that he's spied something.

He's leading me on a tour of camps made by homeless people in wooded corners of Fayette County, Kentucky, and there, slightly up the hill, is a patch of blue. A tent.

He keeps his voice low to avoid startling those inside.

"That's what you are looking for right there. It ain't as thick as I would like, but you still can't see it," he says, pointing out what he would look for in a campsite in his homeless days, just a few months ago.

Bowers is tall with a wild beard flecked with gray. His nickname, "Country," is fitting for someone who figures he's spent at least half of his 51 years living outside.

Bowers had been living in these wooded areas, hidden from view, until he recently got sober and moved into an apartment.