When I was about twelve years of age I attended a state Boy Scout jamboree. We camped out in the mountains for an extended weekend. We had to bring food with us to eat, but we were told our Saturday evening meal would be provided. But what we did not know was how it would be provided. About four o'clock in the afternoon we were summoned to the road head. There by the side of the road was a tractor-trailer loaded with live chickens! At our campsite we were divided into groups of three, and from that truck each group, including mine, received a live chicken for the Saturday evening meal. This was a difficult moment for my fellow scouts and me. We were from the city. We had hardly ever seen a live chicken! Now, we had one in hand and had to kill it to eat supper. We had never killed anything …