AR-News: (CA) Cockfighting on the Central Coast of California

[Political Animal]

http://www.lompocrecord.com/articles/2004/05/21/news/news13.txt
 
An inside look at cock fighting on the Central Coast
 
By Emily Slater -- Staff Writer
5/21/04 
 
Two roosters rocket into the air upon the referee's
command to release, slashing at each other in a cloud
of feathers and dust.
 
A large Puerto Rican bird inflicts the first blow with
a knife tied to its foot, crippling a smaller cock
while adrenaline enlivens the crowd. The small rooster
drags itself into a corner of the plywood ring as it
attempts to fend off the larger bird, which pecks at
the smaller opponent's head and kicks it with its
knife.
 
Near death, the small bird suddenly swings its own
knife-wielding left foot and gouges the odds-on
favorite through the chest. The larger bird collapses
on the dirt floor of the ring, set up near Nipomo.
 
Onlookers erupt in cheers as the referee raises the
winning breeder's hand in the air -- and as those who
had taken a chance on a smaller rooster collect their
side bets.
 
Welcome to a cock fight -- an illegal activity that
occurs weekly on the Central Coast and attracts
breeders from across California.
 
Cock fighting's fans argue that the event is a
cultural expression teaching perseverance and pride;
its opponents claim the activity is a brutal sport
spurring violence and bloodshed.
 
Whichever the case, rising fines are pushing the sport
further underground and steeling its competitors, who
vow to stage fights until cock fighting carries felony
charges.
 
Longtime breeder Carlos adopted cock fighting as his
lifelong passion after watching his first fight while
attending Arroyo Grande High School.
 
"There was so much energy, and people from all over,"
Carlos recalled. "I thought, 'This is what I want to
do for the rest of my life.' There's nothing like it."
 
Carlos would spend the next 30 years studying breeds,
diseases and knife-tying techniques.
 
"I put a lot of time, effort and money into it. I
wanted to know everything about it."
 
Of the birds he calls his "little feathered warriors,"
Carlos said, "There is a lot of pride in my birds.
They get wounded and they still fight. I cry when one
of my birds dies."
 
Fights drawing upwards of 100 people are staged in
fields, behind houses and in riverbeds from Cambria to
Orcutt. A recent fight in Nipomo's foothills -- one in
a season that runs from December to August, with
months off for molting -- drew about 70.
 
Breeders spend two years preparing their roosters to
cut and kill quickly. They train them in a method
similar to boxers, tying gloves on their developing
spurs so they can spar in practice fights. Trainers
build up the birds' muscles by forcing them to scratch
for their food and rolling them on their backs to
strengthen their wings.
 
"You have to get to know the bird -- hold, pet, run
and fly them. You have to get them ready for battle,"
said Carlos. "They peak when they can't stand looking
at another rooster."
 
While Carlos views cock fighting as a beautiful
expression of his culture, many consider the activity
downright cruel.
 
"Cock fighting is inhumane," said Cassie Holland,
assistant director of the Santa Maria Valley Humane
Society. "The activity ends in death or severe
injury."
 
The Humane Society of the United States is lobbying
Congress to toughen federal laws by instituting
felony-level penalties. The 108th Congress will end
its session in the fall.
 
Roosters seized during busts are usually destroyed due
to their aggressive nature, according to Eric
Anderson, manager for San Luis Obispo County's
Department of Animal Services.
 
"There is no way to place them (in any home)," he
said. "They don't make acceptable companions."
 
Confiscated roosters are delivered to the shelter and
held until charges are filed against their owners.
 
To avoid confiscation of the costly birds, breeders
operate undercover. A tight network informs
participants of the next fight location. Arenas are
rotated to keep police and potential crashers from
breaking up fights or stealing profits.
 
Two years ago, masked bandits armed with automatic
rifles raided a ring, seizing thousands of dollars and
forcing spectators -- including Carlos' mother -- to
relinquish jewelry and lie down in the dirt until they
had departed.
 
The bandits were never identified, although organizers
moved locations more frequently after the raid.
 
Rising fines have also forced a greater degree of
secrecy than in years past, when one Nipomo sheriff's
deputy even brought his roosters to the fights, Carlos
said.
 
In January, cock fighting fines rose from $1,000 to
$5,000 and/or up to a year in jail for first-time
offenses. Second-time offenses catapulted from $1,000
to $25,000, with the possibility of jail time.
 
During a raid, officers are trained to corral
organizers and breeders first, although anyone in
attendance can be charged with a misdemeanor.
 
Unless an informant tips off police, though, fights in
progress are rarely busted because most are staged in
remote locations, according to Sgt. Chris Pappas,
public information officer for the Santa Barbara
County Sheriff's Department.
 
More common is the discovery of illegal spurs -- the
knives that are strapped to the roosters' feet. The
presence of birds alone does not constitute a crime.
 
In San Luis Obispo County, two signs of cock fighting
were recorded last year. In one case, officers located
birds and spurs in a vehicle during a traffic stop. In
another, a probation search uncovered a fighting ring
and paraphernalia, according to Lt. Martin Basti of
the San Luis Obispo County Sheriff's Department.
 
In Santa Barbara County, authorities seized 140
fighting cocks last year. Soon after, sheriff's
deputies discovered an illegal cock fighting ring in
rural Orcutt and cited 21 people for their
involvement.
 
While rarely busted, cock fights occur every weekend
-- despite some people's belief that their regularity
is diminishing as development begins to push back the
area's rural nature.
 
"I have not seen or heard of any (fights) in a long
time," Basti said. "There are less places for them to
happen with a bigger population."
 
In reality, organizers are being more creative in
choosing locations, some of which are just off major
thoroughfares but hidden from view.
 
"My sense is that this is a problem that won't go away
by virtue of enforcement actions on our part," Pappas
acknowledged. "It's part of an expression of people's
culture."
 
As baseball or boxing is to Americans, cock fighting
is to Mexicans and Filipinos.
 
"This is what people live for," Carlos said.
 
Fights are often friendly affairs for the people,
drawing families and schoolmates. At the recent Nipomo
fight, Carlos acted as referee; his brother weighed
the birds; his sister sold homemade burritos and
collected entry fees with Carlos' girlfriend.
 
Many of the spectators grew up together and greeted
each other enthusiastically, admiring the green, red
and white roosters and sharing the latest edition of
"The Gamecock" magazine, published in Arkansas. Cock
fighting is still legal in Louisiana and parts of New
Mexico.
 
Carlos hugged Andrew, a childhood friend who played on
his Little League team in Nipomo. For them, cock
fighting belongs beside bull fighting and boxing;
while violent, each activity has shaped culture.
 
The cock fighting crowd includes people from age 5 to
75. Most are males from various ethnic and economic
backgrounds. All share a love of the sport.
 
"A lot of people think of cock fighting as a sporting
event," said Deputy Mike Martin of the San Luis Obispo
County Sheriff's Department. "But a lot of money
exchanges hands and guns and drugs are involved. We
take them very seriously, due not only to the cruelty
against animals, but the danger to people."
 
He explained that one deputy had a knife pulled on him
at a cock fight.
 
"It's a cruelty issue in the estimation of many
people," Pappas added. "Birds are raised to slash
until one bleeds to death. This is the gruesome
reality."
 
Thousands of dollars pass hands during a fight. To
participate in a derby, breeders pay $500 to enter
four birds, and during each fight, spectators exchange
hundreds in side bets. They also pay $10 to watch.
 
The roosters are carefully matched by weight, with
only 3 ounces allowed to separate each. When a match
is called out, breeders painstakingly tie one 3-inch
blade, called a Filipino slasher, to the left foot of
each bird -- the strongest limb on most roosters. In
tying, they must ensure the blade won't break when it
hits bone.
 
Upon entering the ring, breeders allow their birds a
few pecks at each other to enrage them beyond their
excited state.
 
"When I go into the ring, my whole personality
changes," Carlos said. "This bird's energy is running
through my body and I feel like I am him. I know what
he will go through."
 
"His leg shakes when I tie the knife on," Carlos
added, "because he knows why I am putting it on."
 
A referee gives the command to release the birds, and
the roosters engage in battle, slashing and pecking.
Blood drips from beaks, heads and gaping knife wounds
on backs and chests.
 
Sometimes handlers are injured by the blades. Carlos
almost lost his thumb when a rooster knifed him. He
shows off the scar proudly.
 
Most fights end in a whirlwind two to three minutes
when a rooster takes its last peck. The time limit is
10 minutes, in which case a draw is called. The
winning breeder's hand is raised in the air while the
defeated one carries away his dead or dying rooster by
the feet, tossing it into a metal barrel to be burned
or used to flavor soup.
 
The wounded birds are nursed back to health and may
fight again. If a rooster wins three matches, he will
likely retire and sire other birds. The handler whose
rooster claims the most victories will collect
thousands of dollars.
 
Although Carlos risks criminal charges each time he
organizes a fight, he will continue.
 
"I won't quit," he said. "I'll just be more careful."
 
Thus far, Carlos has evaded jail time.
 
His secret is sharing the location of fights with only
those who bet high and fight big. Spectators such as
Andrew, who make small side bets, rarely receive
invitations to fights now, as a large crowd can
attract unwanted attention.
 
Carlos said he will keep fighting his roosters until
the activity carries felony-level charges in
California, as advocated by the Humane Society. In
such a case, Carlos said, he will move to a state
where fighting is legal or better tolerated.
 
For now, though, Carlos will keep breeding roosters,
organizing fights and collecting illegal bets on the
Central Coast.
 
"Cock fighting has been going on for centuries and is
still going on," he said. "It's my heritage."
 
Staff writer Emily Slater can be reached at 489-4206,
Ext. 5012.
 
Editor's note: Central Coast residents involved in
cock fighting would speak to a reporter and allow her
to attend one of their matches only if she agreed to
keep their identities confidential.
 
Because many people, including some in law
enforcement, believe cock fighting is fading away on
the Central Coast, the Record felt an inside look at
the cultural phenomenon, the people who support it and
its continuing popularity warranted the
confidentiality. As a result, no last names are used,
and first names have been changed for publication.


	
		
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