Opinion & Comment

Cock-fighting In The U.S. . .

APPALACHIAN NOTEBOOK - Steve Oden

Dateline: Newport, Tennessee – Dozens of state and federal agents raided a cockfighting pit here and arrested 100 participants and spectators.

Before I go further with this column, let me make it plain that (1.) I do not condone illegal activity; (2.) I do not approve of wanton cruelty to animals; and (3.) like anyone who was raised on a farm, I do not believe chickens are anything but food sources.

This being said, I wonder how many people realize the size and breadth – let alone the tradition and history of development – of cockfighting in the United States?

It is a sport you will never see on ESPN or the networks, but it is a sport none-the-less, and it generates revenues above-and-beyond the dollars won and lost in gambling venues… the infamous fighting pits.

Every part of Appalachia includes a cockfighting sub-culture (more commonly known as “chicken fighting) that’s evident by just driving through the country on a Sunday afternoon. If you come across a rural house that has roosters tethered by leg to plastic barrels or lean-to’s, the owner of this livestock is not raising broilers or gathering eggs. He or she is grooming cockfighting warriors.

Great effort, much time, and many dollars are expended on championship-quality roosters. Their diets are carefully regulated; they receive antibiotics and hormone supplements; and – very important – their gene-pool is scrutinized. These birds are not bred for weight-gain and large, meaty breasts. The fast-growing poultry produced in high-tech chicken houses for large companies like Tyson Foods are a different kind of fowl, not examples of birds seen in the barnyards of our grandparents. These yard chickens were a leaner, rangy type, and the roosters were mean.

Granny’s roosters would chase children and flog them. I know from firsthand experience, so I never shed a tear when one of the cocks was replaced by a younger, more virile bird and the old flogger wound up in the stew pot. It’s in the blood of roosters to fight, to protect their flocks.

Fighting cocks are, however, closer to the natural strains, but with additional aggressiveness bred into them. Diet, medicine, conditioning, and training – yes, a sizeable industry exists for the preparation of birds for the pit – make fighting cocks valuable to their owners and their progeny much sought after.

What I am trying to point out here is that the stereotype of cock fights as gatherings of ignorant people of low morals is wrong. This is an industry – a sports industry – and the dollars involved are huge. Magazines are published about fighting cocks, their care and conditioning. These publications are supported through paid advertising. The legal trade in fighting cock livestock extends from this country overseas, and the network of vendors and suppliers of the industry is extensive.

Don’t let the myth surrounding cockfighting obscure what is a large, sophisticated, and highly capitalized industry. Cockfighting is cruel; and cockfighting involves gambling. This is not to say that cockfighting advocates and participants don’t take great pride in the achievements of their warriors. Just like thoroughbred race horse owners, their stock represents investment. This is the side of cockfighting that you don’t see.

My knowledge of cockfighting comes from days as a newspaper investigative reporter, when I accompanied a rooster conditioner and trainer to several pits. What I found surprised me.

The action in the pit, which I mistakenly thought was always a fight to death, often ended with one bird handler throwing in the towel before major injury occurred from the metal spurs attached to the roosters’ legs. First aid and medical care were administered to close bleeding wounds and prevent infection.

“Got too much money in this bird to get him killed,” said an owner at ringside.

Other myths were exploded for me: No alcohol was served, nor was it imbibed, according to strictly enforced pit rules. No firearms were allowed. No cursing or inappropriate behavior was allowed. House betting rules were in force. Birds were checked by stamped veterinary record to be free of disease, and they had to show proof of inoculation against various fowl ills.

The spectators included many ladies and youngsters. Kids were allowed to enter their birds but not bet. One young man carried a large, red rooster to the pit but backed out at the last second. “He’s ready but I’m not,” the teen admitted.

What happens in the pit is horrible and fascinating. It is the stereotype of cockfighting the world over. No amount of sugar-coating will change the fact that death and maiming occur in the circle; blood flows; and even the faces of a “respectable” audience radiate a savage thrill, probably not much different from the expressions of ancient Romans in the Coliseum when gladiators battled to the death.

But, there’s a less ugly side to cockfights. The one I attended was a community event, albeit an illegal one. They took up a collection for an elderly neighbor’s hospital bill, and proceeds from the concession stand went to a pee-wee football team appropriately named the “Gamecocks.”

So, the next time a newspaper reports on a cockfighting pit raid, remember the story is probably much deeper and more complex than a bunch of “good old boys” on a Saturday night, drinking beer and fighting chickens.