“Weak!!!!!”

The taunts come from the onlookers after yet another miss that put me at a pathetic 0-for-6.

I laugh and shake my head in disbelief. Then relinquish the shotgun, take a seat on the tailgate, crack a beer and watch the next shooter obliterate clays with ease.

Every fall I kick myself for not shooting throughout the summer and every year I vow to not let it happen the next.

But once again here I am, three days into hunting season, and these are the first rounds I’ve put through the shotgun since last fall.

So it goes.

I’m up again and the heckling continues. I settle in. Determined to put an end to the futility.

“Pull!”

The orange disc sails out ahead. I breathe deeply and relax. Trying to aim without aiming. Let the eyes do the work. I pull the trigger. The orange disc disintegrates in the air.

And it feels good.

Way better than missing.