I found out where food came from at age 6 when my dad grabbed one of our extra roosters, chopped its head off with a hatchet and hung it up on the clothesline to bleed out. Once I got over crying it tasted pretty good later that day with mashed taters and gravy. :-)
Grandma let ‘me run after the chop. Bled out quick and fertilized the ground. Ever hear the phrase “ran like a chicken with it’s head cut off”?