I committed my first murder at the age of twelve. I had killed before, but before there were always motives such as self defense and protection of property. On December 25, 1991, however, I killed for the carnal sake of killing. Taking this life did not feel wrong until the fraction of a second after it was too late. I remember vividly the pride I felt in my steady aim, the rifle-sights barely moving from the tiny …showed first 75 words of 900 total…

…showed last 75 words of 900 total…'sport' of killing. I have never understood why people travel to far and exotic places to kill magnificent beasts or why people adorn their walls with the heads of animals. I did not kill a lion or a deer that day, but no one can convince me that the squirrel I killed was any less majestic. That squirrel was my one and only trophy, and I have yet to find a reason to seek another