The fourth was my personal favorite. Not because of the gore involved but the suspense and amount of skill. I was getting better and better with each kill. I was always hitting them in the head, but each kill was days or even weeks apart. I was beginning to know them, understand them, and anticipate them. I learned that if I run into the garage, flick the light switch and sit on the ladder and wait, I would begin to hear noises. This way I was able to predict where they were going to emerge in order to get back into their safety zone (the hole). This night I was especially perceptive. I heard rustling right below the drywall. I took aim right where I heard the noise. I pulled back on the trigger to the point of resistance, then I pulled back slightly more lessening the gap between the skin and bone of my index finger. I held my breath. Sure enough, the tiny head of a baby rat just barely poked out from between the drywall and the two by four below it. It was about fifteen or so feet away. With a slight pull the air in my rifle sent the pellet through the air and consequently through the skull of the rat. This was not a fun death however. Not only did the little bastard squeak a few times, but the convulsions continued for about sixty seconds before I decided to load up again and finish it off.
You can see the trail of blood from it's constant convulsing. I named him Squeaky.
The wound was right behind it's left ear.
The pellet exited the rat's throat.