Snakes on a demolition site

Nicholas and I were exploring the rubble of a knocked-down building yesterday (Garrison School, Abby! Your grade school library is now a pile of concrete chunks). I noticed a garter snake slithering away in the grass. Of course, I began herding him around, blocking its escape routes with my feet, steering it toward Nicholas and otherwise pestering it. Nicholas was only slightly interested in the legless reptile until he got a hold of a big stick. Then he began poking at the snake with it, taking our level of wildlife harassment to a new height. By now the snake, who was only about a foot long, had enough. He reeled up into a coil and began striking at the stick. Nicholas was unfazed, even after I took his stick away in a pang of role model conscience. He kept pointing at it, watching it lunge toward him and saying "He's going to bite you, Dad! He's going to bite you!"
And laughing.
So I guess there must be a male gene for tormenting animals, since Nicholas already knows how to do it.