Bird on a wire

Ok, I confess. As a boy, on the farm I had the use of my Dad's .22 air gun, and I shot birds.

I took no pleasure in killing. They were just moving targets.

Until one morning, before school, I shot one sparrow on a telephone wire. And instead of falling to the ground it just swung round and hung there, dead on the wire. It's claws must have clenched and stayed closed.

I felt sick. I went to school, and it was still there when I got home. On some deeper level I suddenly realised that my target practice had terrible consequences for a living creature.

I never shot anything but bottles and the odd window after that. And now I won't even squash a fly or a spider.