I cocked the new BB gun in my shaking hands. The grass felt like a thousand little prickles against my arms. Quiet and still, I laid, staring down the barrel of the gun. The fat robin sat perched on the bottom beam of the fence, jutting its head to the left, and then to the right. I aimed my sights onto its orange breast and held my breath as I pulled the trigger. Feathers puffed into the air as the robin hit the ground. I walked over to the bird and stared as it trembled, unable to move. The robin squeaked in pain, still jutting its head to the left, and then to the right. My vision became blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. I lifted the BB gun for the last time and pointed it at the fat robins head.