Crack the Spine - Issue 191

intently, making its way to a tuft of grass in a small clearing in the woods. The dog stuck its nose in then jumped back as a bird flew out from the growth, slowly, in a zigzag path.

How could it get stuck in a tuft of grass on the ground?

A moment later I realized that it was the same bird that Uncle Alan had pointed to in the pet store. I stood there frozen, while the bird just flew away, taking an important piece of me with it.

Uncle Alan remained still, waiting for me to take the first shot, then just letting bird disappeared into the clear blue sky above the pine trees. He smiled and looked at me.

“Couldn’t do it?” he asked, more as a statement then a question, and not without sympathy.

“Is that the bird you pointed at in the pet store?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes?” “Yes, we buy what we’re going to hunt, and the lodge assistants plant them throughout the property. That’s how it’s done.”

Uncle Alan explained it to me like a teacher, telling me the facts of life, but not implying I should already know this. I clicked the safety back on, broke open the gun, and took the shells out.

“I can’t do this,” I said, and Uncle Alan understood, although only partly.

“Maybe we can spend the rest of the day at the shotgun range?” He suggested.

“Yeah, that would be great,” I said, but my tone probably said otherwise.

It would be a kind of secret between us. Uncle Alan was a good man, and he would not tell the rest of the family about how, as he saw it, I was too soft hearted.