We were up in the mountains with my parents and I guess somebody else, my sister was up there anyhow, up in a cabin that they have. I was out walking. It was sort of a dark, cloudy day, sort of as if it were sometime late in September or October or something. I was up on this hill and looking up. Overhead there were all sorts of birds flying, a great big flock of them. It was sort of a funny thing, although I didn't think about it then. Although they kept flying and flying, they sort of stayed in the same place somehow, and I wondered what kind of birds they were. A lot of them were big birds, but I thought if they were ducks or geese or something like that, they would fly in some sort of a formation and these were just sort of bunched up in a big flock. I was watching them and all of a sudden my father came out and he shot one of them. It fell down and it was a duck, and it was a real pretty little duck, and I felt real bad about it and I started crying because the poor little duck had been killed.