Years ago when I was a kid (maybe 12 years old?) my Dad's older brother built a hunting cabin up in the woods. My Dad, Uncle, and I went up to do some target shooting one day. When this little story took place, I happened to be standing beside a drainage ditch my Uncle had dug along the property. All of a sudden I look up and my Dad is charging me like a line backer. He knocked me clean off my feet and I landed in a heap a few feet back. When I looked up my Dad had a shovel raised over his head! I though I he was going to kill me, but as I screamed he started pounding away at something in the ditch. Whew! After a few hard whacks he had beaten a sizeable copperhead to a bloody pulp. I didn't even recognize the leftovers as a snake.
My Dad has told me he has no recollection of this event, but (for obvious reasons) it is one of my most vivid memories from childhood.