There are roosters in Mogpog.

Walking, one finds roosters in home made cages, roaming freely, or tied up with a string connecting one ankle to a perch that looks like a pirate’s crutch.

Roosters start crowing at four every morning and peck in the ground for whatever they can find. They battle over hens and protect their harems to death. Brightly colored with red crowns, glistening black, brown feathers, long talons, roosters add color and clamor to small town rural life.

These two roosters are prompted to fight by being encouraged to peck each other while held by their owners. Once an antipathy has been established, they are put on the ground and allowed to tangle.

One, or both of them, will be fighting this Sunday in a metal cage in the middle of a ramshackle arena in Mogpog as excited spectators place bets and anticipate a victor and a vanquished, blood on the ground.

Their owners have their eyes on bragging rights and silver coins.

Blood sports go way back in human history.

Sacrificing for the God’s and gambling are as old as we are. 






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