Letters: Why I'll always regret buying a shotgun
Once, a long time ago, I bought a shotgun. I had gotten into my head to go hunting and thought this might be fun.
As soon as this gun was in my possession, it felt good, powerful, and as I fingered the beautiful French engraving on the steel and Oakwood butt right down to the trigger finger, that feeling of power grew.
The next day I found myself in Connemara on the hunt for a rabbit or anything else that was legal to shoot. I did not have to wait long. In fact, I hardly had to get out of my car for there he was, my prey, my rabbit, right in front of me -- less than 10 metres away.
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