I move slowly, silently, keeping my prey in my sights. I know that the slightest stirring of air will alert it to my presence. My whole body is taut, my weapon at the ready. Does it know that death is imminent? Have the hairs on its dark body been prickling, some primal sense alerting it to the presence of a hunter? I take one more hesitant step forward, trying to predict its next move – still no reaction. No sign that it knows I am here. 

So many hunts end in failure. One unexpected shift of the wind, one foot placed in the wrong spot, one thought that goes out too aggressively and sends a warning through the air. A hunter needs to be Patient. Relaxed. Calm. An animal can smell a fretful mind just as easily as it can smell fear.  

Everything is right this time. My mind is clear, my attention focused on my quarry like the sharp tip of a spear. I feel the weapon in my hand – perfectly designed for just this moment. Light and flexible, nothing extra to make a sound or slow my movement in that final, deadly strike. 

The time is right. I feel the excitement course through my body. Like a cobra, my hand and my lethal intent lash out simultaneously. 

Once again, I am too slow. My quarry flushes, just out of reach. Disappointed, I return to the kitchen and hang the fly swatter back on the nail next to the door, ready for the next hunt.