</font><font color="blue" class="small">( I killed one when I was a kid that was trying to get into my minnow bucket to eat my bait. ...now that really got me mad. )</font>
When I was 19, I took my two younger brothers (13 and 14) fishing with me to Lake Texoma. We had a 14' boat with a 40hp Evinrude and went and camped for the night on one of the islands and ran a trotline all night using pure beef blood for bait. Now when you use pure beef blood, you have to run the trotline about once an hour because when you get a fish on a hook, he'll frequently jar the bait off all the rest of the hooks. So that's what we were doing.
The sandy beach sloped very gradually into the water and the only place we found to tie our metal stringer was to a stump that was about 6 feet out into the water, although the water at that point wasn't a foot deep, so no problem, we were going barefoot anyway. The stump was probably 30 or 40 yards down the beach from our campfire and it was a dark moonless night.
The first time we ran the trotline, we had 3 small (but keeper sized) catfish, so we put them on the stringer, anchored it to the stump, waited an hour, and ran the trotline again. This time we had two more fish when we returned and beached the boat by the fire. So the 13 year old led the way with the flashlight and I followed with a fish in each hand. When he reached the edge of the water, he spun around and ran past me. I dropped both fish and grabbed the flashlight out of his hand as he went by me without slowing down. When I turned the light to see what had scared him, a big moccasin had the whole head of one of our fish in his mouth along with part of the stringer. I handed the flashlight to the 14 year old, told him to keep the light on the snake, and Ipicked up a dead stick or limb 6' to 8' feet long and pinned the middle of the snake to the stump. About that time, the 13 year old brother came running past me right to the snake. He had a hunting knife in one hand and a little stick, maybe a foot long, in the other hand and was hitting and slashing at the snake with me screaming and yelling at him to get away from it. He killed it.
When we returned to the campfire, I tried to explain to him how long it would have taken by boat to get back to the launching ramp, and then drive him to the nearest hospital; at least a couple of hours or more. His only response, "Well, that snake made me mad and I had to go get my knife."