I’m visiting my friend Steve Burnett in the teeming metropolis of Bovina, N.Y., population 610. He has a couple of ponds, lots of trails, plenty of turkeys and deer. I brought some rods, my swimming trunks, hiking boots. When I met Steve for coffee yesterday morning and asked what the plan was for the day, he said, “First we gotta kill, clean, dress, wrap, and freeze about 10 chickens. You bring rubber boots? It’s like a sewer in the coop.” I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d been expecting, but I was sure it wasn’t killing chickens.