them at will and hold them in his hands for close study.
Raff told his mother he wanted to take his Red Ryder into Clayville Center to show to his friends. He offered to let her hold on to his ammunition, the BBs, as a guarantee. He didn't mention the spare cylinder he carried in his pocket.
When she gave her reluctant permission, Raff placed the gun across the handlebars of his bicycle and rode out of the driveway. He turned in the direction of Atmore Street and the town center, in case Marcia was watching from the window. He proceeded on to the first street corner, then out of sight of the house, cut ninety degrees at the next corner, rode one street over, and continued on toward Nokobee. After twenty-five minutes' hard cycling he arrived at the trailhead.
As usual at this time of day, there was no one else at Dead Owl Cove. Raff walked onto the trail around the west side of the lake and off it, into the forest. He held his head up, staring this way and that. He gripped the air rifle in both hands, ready to pump and fire. He entered the hunter's trance, scanning now back and forth, up and down, his senses open for any sign of an animal that might be a suitable target. A giant sulphur butterfly--hard to catch even with a net--flashed across the trail in front of him and alighted on a flowering bush. It was big and showy, but he paid it no attention. Close by, a murder of crows began quarreling. Their loud clamor meant nothing to the searching rifleman.
A skink started up and raced a short distance down the trail before halting. A target! Raff froze. He raised the rifle slowly and carefully. But the little lizard, watching his movements intently, sprinted into the undergrowth and disappeared.
Farther along the trail, Raff spotted a green anole lizard resting on the trunk of a small pine. It was a large male, pumping its scarlet dewlap up and down, the instinctive response to a male encroaching its territory. At fifteen feet it was a perfect target. Raff turned around so his back was to the target and his arm movements could not be seen. He pumped the lever of the gun, turned back slowly, aimed at the lizard just behind its front legs, and fired. The lizard flipped off and fell to the ground. Raff ran over and laid it in his open hand. He examined it closely, pulled the red dewlap out, and let it fold back. There was a small tear in the skin just back of the left shoulder, with the skin pinched upward. The pellet had evidently struck at an angle and bounced away. Raff was unsure whether the lizard was dead or just stunned. He placed it gently on the ground and moved on in search of his next trophy. No candidate was found, and after an hour Raff returned home.
Over the next several excursions, Raff stayed most of each day, stunning or killing dozens of lizards, small snakes, and one tree frog that he knocked off a pine branch too high to reach by hand. He looked up the victims in a set of field guides he kept at home. When finally he was tired of this level of wildlife slaughter, he turned to sparrows and other small birds. In this endeavor he was consistently unsuccessful. The targets were usually constantly in motion. They kept too far away, and at the distances he could approach, thick feathers shielded their bodies too well for the pellets to have much effect. Raff intensified his effort to kill or at least capture a bird. Finally, he found an ideal target. It was a tiny golden yellow bird perched on a low branch in a swampy portion of the lakeside scrub. It stood stock-still, calling in a continuous monotone, Sweet, sweet, sweet...Raff raised the rifle into firing position, stock to his shoulder, and walked in slow motion toward the bird. When he had closed within fifteen feet, he took careful aim at its head, remembering his father's advice when bringing down the guinea hen several years previously. Always shoot for the head. Raff squeezed the trigger. There was a slight pop, and the bird leaned to the side and fell to the ground.
Raff walked over and picked up his trophy. Lying in his open hand, the bird looked up at him with expressionless eyes. It struggled but