I never thought I'd ever go to a cockfight. It's somewhat of a joke in the Northern United States. Here I am, in Northern Mexico state, a gringo who'd never even touched a live chicken, let alone a gamecock. A fellow elementary teacher had been ranting and raving about the wonders of clandestine cockfighting. 
I just had to give it a gander. Like I said, I'm from Ann Arbor, Michigan what do I know about cockfighting. He invited me to see his house which is also home to some 35 gamecocks in every possible capacity: Mature, young, hens, chicks, wounded, and even a few unhatched eggs. From there he gave me the full crash-course in gamecocks, from how to hold them to how to fight them, the rules of the tournament and the difference in races. Remarkably beautiful animals these gamecocks are! Each race has their own distinct coloration. I helped him choose two pollos (roosters under a year old) who weighed 2 kg. and 1.9kg. respectable to fight. He told me that Saturday there would be a clandestine cockfight in the foothills of a neighboring mountain. I couldn't say no. I get to his house around noon, we crate and load the gamecocks and are on the road by two. After about twenty minutes of braving a most rocky trail, we reach a field. The field is flanked by an array of cowboys, cholos, crooks and I think I saw a pirate somewhere in the crowd. To one side is a small adobe building with some señoritas selling snacks and a most sweaty bandito manning an antiquated scale. They thirty-or-so people are milling about with crates looking for another willing cock-fighter with an equal weight gamecock. When the match is found the betting begins: the stakes are set and off to the amaradores. The amarador (see first picture) has the most dangerous job of the whole operation: he ties the razorblades on the gamecocks. Not only are the razors lethally sharp but the gamecocks are ready to fight. Using a combination of moleski
n-like cloth, a small cover and a waxed tread the amarador affixes the navaja (razor, second picture) to the espolón (top-most talon) and its off to the ring. Each amarador has his own box of tricks, about the size of a shoe box, usually intricately carved in gamecock motif. With the rooster tied, the match made and the wager set we were off to the ring. By the time we are ready about sixty people have assembled and are ready for blood. We pass the gamecock to the sueltador (the guy who releases the cocks for the fight) and they're off (see video). This is our gamecock winning the match by a razor slash to the esophagus. Our rooster came out clean, and won us $1500 pesos (most people make less than $1000 pesos weekly). Not to shabby for fifty seconds of battle. By the time we leave the crowd had grown to about 150 people, we had played another gamecock, won $1000 pesos more and were utterly baked by the pounding sun. Another great Saturday afternoon in Mexico.
I just had to give it a gander. Like I said, I'm from Ann Arbor, Michigan what do I know about cockfighting. He invited me to see his house which is also home to some 35 gamecocks in every possible capacity: Mature, young, hens, chicks, wounded, and even a few unhatched eggs. From there he gave me the full crash-course in gamecocks, from how to hold them to how to fight them, the rules of the tournament and the difference in races. Remarkably beautiful animals these gamecocks are! Each race has their own distinct coloration. I helped him choose two pollos (roosters under a year old) who weighed 2 kg. and 1.9kg. respectable to fight. He told me that Saturday there would be a clandestine cockfight in the foothills of a neighboring mountain. I couldn't say no. I get to his house around noon, we crate and load the gamecocks and are on the road by two. After about twenty minutes of braving a most rocky trail, we reach a field. The field is flanked by an array of cowboys, cholos, crooks and I think I saw a pirate somewhere in the crowd. To one side is a small adobe building with some señoritas selling snacks and a most sweaty bandito manning an antiquated scale. They thirty-or-so people are milling about with crates looking for another willing cock-fighter with an equal weight gamecock. When the match is found the betting begins: the stakes are set and off to the amaradores. The amarador (see first picture) has the most dangerous job of the whole operation: he ties the razorblades on the gamecocks. Not only are the razors lethally sharp but the gamecocks are ready to fight. Using a combination of moleski
n-like cloth, a small cover and a waxed tread the amarador affixes the navaja (razor, second picture) to the espolón (top-most talon) and its off to the ring. Each amarador has his own box of tricks, about the size of a shoe box, usually intricately carved in gamecock motif. With the rooster tied, the match made and the wager set we were off to the ring. By the time we are ready about sixty people have assembled and are ready for blood. We pass the gamecock to the sueltador (the guy who releases the cocks for the fight) and they're off (see video). This is our gamecock winning the match by a razor slash to the esophagus. Our rooster came out clean, and won us $1500 pesos (most people make less than $1000 pesos weekly). Not to shabby for fifty seconds of battle. By the time we leave the crowd had grown to about 150 people, we had played another gamecock, won $1000 pesos more and were utterly baked by the pounding sun. Another great Saturday afternoon in Mexico.
2 comments:
um...that's actually really disgusting.
i should say i ate chicken for lunch.
but still.
I had PET CHICKENS! ARGH!
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