|Probably good eating|
About 25 yds. up a hill on one side of the pond was a small apple orchard. I don't think there were enough apples to produce a cash crop, but the trees were beautiful when they bloomed and we weren't averse to helping ourselves to apples when they ripened.
When I was about 11 or 12 my friend up the street got a BB gun. We would take it up to the lake, set up a row of Coke bottles at the bottom of a berm and take turns trying to hit the bottles. We were always careful to pick up any broken glass and I suppose it was better than shooting at neighbor's car windows.
Boys and BB guns, especially without any adult supervision, don't stay benign for long. One day my friend spotted a robin sitting on a branch of one of the apple trees. He trained the gun on the bird and with one shot DOWN WENT FRAZIER. That bird dropped like a rock. I've never felt so terrible in my life and my friend was instantly remorseful. We ran to the bird and he was on his side in the grass, eyes glassy and unfocused. We didn't know what to do; he was alive, but it didn't look like he would last for long.
For some reason we decided to put him back on the branch. I picked him up and carefully placed his little feet around the branch, fully expecting him to fall over. Instead, he balanced there. swaying a little, but maintaining his perch. We stood about 10 feet away and just watched. After what seemed like hours but was probably 5 minutes, the robin pooped and flew away. Astounded, we ran to where he had been perched and below the branch, visible in the sparse grass, was the BB pellet.
I don't know if the BB penetrated the bird and he eliminated it naturally or if it just stunned him and was actually embedded in his feathers and fell out when he regained his senses. Either way, I'm glad I don't have the death of that robin on my conscience.