When I was little girl growing up in North Carolina in the early 70's I noticed my little dog barking at something in the grass. I ran out to see what it was, (being quite the tomboy I was barefoot of course) and found myself standing on what my dad identified later as a baby copperhead. Luckily I was light enough to where the little guy could slither along easily under my feet through the grass, and I did not get bitten, he didn't even deviate from his course. That vision is etched in my mind clear as a bell to this very day, and it still fascinates me.
Another is at that same time during the 7 years we lived in NC, my dad 'took care of' many rattlers, copperheads and cottonmouths by way of the garden shovel. But, there was this one HUGE black and yellow kingsake who roamed our property, and I remember my father telling me never to harm that one as he was a 'good' snake, and we called him 'King George'. I loved him, I watched him year after year, must have spent hours tracking him around the woods and fields and around the house. I'm pretty sure thats where my love of kingsnakes came from. Now I know he was an eastern king, and I am happy to say after years of keeping/breeding cal kings (and others) I am about to receive my first pair of eastern kings from WillStill sometime soon 
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"Klaatu...Verata...Nicht--cough, cough, cough!"