Cockfighting can be considered a “Sport”

It is a good idea to walk with a limp to make a village seem unappetizing.

The cockfight is an ancient sport that was founded on animal cruelty and gambling. It also has three-inch razor-sharp knives that measure 3 inches in length. is a centuries-old tradition which dates back to ancient China. It is legal now. Cockfighting is not just a hobby. It’s a serious business. I said that it was impossible to picture a chicken in a bandana leaping up and down or avoiding rolling coconuts. Locals claimed they train like prizefighters. A friendly local replied, “You know I know cockfighting.” The training is intense. Every morning, the trainer chases the chickens around the farm.

The gamecocks receive a three-inch razor-sharp blade attached to their left feet. With a loud thud, their bodies collide with each other. The gamecocks are then back up in the air in a matter of seconds.

This fight is marked by the swooshing sound made by feathers. Cockfight enthusiasts are an unusual breed.

I took a photo half way through the third match. I tried to apologize, but it was not received by the shaken heads.

The gamecocks come equipped with a razor-sharp blade measuring three inches that is attached to their left foot. The gamecocks are then lured by a teaser birds, who read their last rites and, when the owner is satisfied, bring them out onto the “dancefloor”. They are initially held within inches of one another. The birds calmly look at their enemy while they wait. They then face chalk marks as in a sumo match. The spectators become anxious like dogs in the hunt. The birds are released after the referee gives his nod. The crowd let out a collective gasp but nothing happens. The birds move around the ring as if they were taking a walk through the garden. They are not moving forward, even though the referee moves and weaves around them to keep their axis from being pushed. Although they are within six inches of one another, it appears that the humans have outwitted them. One of the drunken tourists is just beginning to wonder if five dollars could have been better spent at the strip club. They start jumping and slashing at each other for the jugular. They leap at one another with incredible speed. Their blades move in a blur, arcing left to right like well-honed swords. A few feathers fly towards the sky. Then their bodies collide with the ground with a hollow thud. They are back in the air within seconds, their strong legs pushing them upwards as their wings lift violently above the swirling dust. They slash again and again. Both birds are in an emergency room within minutes. They fight on, and blood starts to trickle to the dust. Their passion seems to drive them beyond rationality. In a split second, a blade strikes a bullseye. Before he even hits the ground, the victim is already limp.

The fight is characterized by the swooshing sound of feathers. The sound echoes off the glass, multiplies, and hovers above you like a hawk trying to grab your head. The owners of the birds are apathetic to everyone except the one he placed. Cockfight aficionados are a very unique breed.

Halfway through the third match, I snapped a photo. I was suddenly met with anger by every eye in the arena. I was like a child who doesn’t know what he did but knows it’s bad. A voice said, “The flash from your camcorder blinds the birds.” I tried to offer a sheepish apology, but that was not accepted by the shaken heads. I felt like I was going be the next one to go into the ring, so I quickly made my exit. As I made my way through the parking lot, I looked back at the arena in wry reflection. I am betting that “sports” like cockfighting won’t be able survive the death of their own mortality in today’s world.

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