When I was about nine or ten I used to wander off to a large pond near our home and shoot Cottonmouths. There were two old trees in the middle of the pond that were dead and the branches were just lousy with the snakes out for a bit of sun.

There was nothing on the other side of the pond for about three miles, and I could climb up on a hill so I had the high ground, and when I hit one they just sort of slowly unwound and fell in the water. I was about 30 yards away.

I got bit once and thought I was going to die from the pain, but after a day or two I was OK. Doctors cost money, so I just rode it out. I saved my paper route money after that for a good pair of boots and another box of .22's.