Snake story, sorta: About 25 years ago I took a 11 year old boy turkey hunting, the son of a good friend. He had grown up with guns and knew his way around shotguns and had his own auto. We found one in the tree. The boy was to my right sitting with his back to the same tree I was on. I was calling and he was the shooter. With the bird within 50-60 yards, but unseen, the boy's gun went off and the shot hit about five feet in front of us. Mud flew up about head high in the air. Startled the bejebus out of me. Wish I could say I was the picture of calmness but after my soliloquy which was shorter, but bluer than the Gettysburg Address, I feel assured that won't happen again. I told him to be still and wait. Within 5 minutes, the bird started up gobbling and was walking off from us. We wide circled and set down trying to get in front of him. As we set down, I saw a copperhead about 8-10 feet away, crawling away. Word must've gotten out about the boy and his gun. "Let's leave it alone" I said and we set down on another tree. "I got to pee" said the boy. "Roll over on your side and do it." "I'll just do it in my pants" which he did. We never saw the bird or heard him again and that was enough adventure for me; we rode home; him with wet pants. It was a miracle mine weren't or worse. Gil