That reminds me of my childhood. My Dad was a butcher before a linesman, technician then communications manager and we often killed our own. I cut and dressed my first chook at age ten. We actually used to fight over the heart, liver, kidneys and giblets in the soup made from it. Ate chicken hearts and livers on a stick with a Saudi prince in Thailand many years later. He was surprised to see a westerner eat such food. Nice guy, he even allowed me to talk to his daughter. No such thing as a hamburger chain til 1972 in my town/city.