Hunting?

I SHOT MY first buck when I was thirteen. It was a grey duiker, one of Southern Africa’s most common antelope. This momentous occasion in my life took place one morning just before the sun showed itself over the eastern sky It was during the school holidays and, as usual, I was up before the fowls, walking in the bush, armed with my single-shot .22 rifle. Suddenly a duiker appeared. It was walking toward a path that led through a little patch of bush lying between it and me. I paused until the duiker was hidden from view within the bush, then I trotted the few metres to where the path exited, and waited for the duiker to appear – safety off, finger on the trigger, breathing deeply.

The duiker walked out of the bush and I shot it from two or three metres away. Although the first shot killed it, I gave it the other two rounds that my dad allowed me to carry. Then I went completely to pieces; I shook