<< The Brownsville Story: A First Timer (series)

The next morning, Derik knocked on my bedroom door. I wanted to go out with him, but I was feeling horrible.

“Wanna come, sport?” He asked.

“I can’t,” I grumbled unhappily.

“Well, okay. Stay at home.”

When Jenny woke up, she came over to where I was sitting (on the couch, where I was resting). “Don’t worry about him. He’ll come back with the greatest shots in the world and everything.”

I half-believed it, but the other half wondered if it was true.

It was.

Derik sauntered in.

He plugged in his camera onto the computer, turned on his computer, whistling the entire time, cropped a photograph which he didn’t let me see, and then printed it out.

Then he showed me.

It was a green kingfisher.

For those of you who don’t know, a green kingfisher is a really tiny bird that, according to Derik, “shoots all over the place the moment you get close and therefore is a big chicken”.

I hissed. It was a body shot on a little barb wire.

I guess it shows why pros get paid and people like me don’t.

Next story in the series: The Brownsville Story: A Lesson Learned.