You can judge a society by how it treats its animals ~ Mahatma Gandhi.)
The earliest record of cockfighting dates to the Indus Valley Civilization 2000 BC. Roman social commentators carped about the “sport” as late as the first century AD.
Birds are, by evolutionary extension, an offshoot of dinosaurs (don’t argue with The Paleontologist.) Chickens are believed to be descended from red jungle fowl (Gallus gallus) and the “sport” of cockfighting might have originated from the Indus Valley Civilization close to 2000 BC.
Birds, like their ancestors, can be rather vicious. Chickens will cannibalize other chickens if they experience deficiencies in phosphorus, sodium and, above all, protein. They do fight in the chicken yards. (They are also messy, smelly and spook at strange noises.)
Nature gave rooster spurs with which they defend their flock and dominance. The dominant rooster will have a redder comb and longer spurs. Should he die, a subordinate rooster will take his place and his comb and spurs will fill out thanks to an increase in his testosterone.
Two dominant roosters will fight when introduced. This is instinctual in domineering males. Man came along and began to capitalize on this cheap and senseless form of entertainment by breeding the most dominant birds in a flock, creating gamecocks with bad attitudes.
You might ask why it isn’t cruel to allow the rooster to behave in a natural way. After all, cockfighting is an extension of what they would do in the wild.
Many cockfight participants and gamecock owners do not believe that chickens feel. I do not mean emotions. They see an injured bird and can not grasp the fact that the animal has sensory features that match our own, to include nerve endings and adrenalin. All fighting birds die. Precious few die humanely.
An animal does know when it is about to die. This sense is necessary in order for the animal to either stand its ground and fight or to take flight and escape the predicament.
If you can stomach it, watch a virgin bait animal before it is used. It will respond to the trainee in a polite animalistic way, exhibiting whatever instinctual greeting is called for. A bait dog might play bow or bark a greeting. A rooster might puff himself up a little and crow.
These instinctual actions vanish immediately after the animal finds itself being excruciatingly shredded by a superior opponent that is trained for battle. Your lost and trusting Labrador is now in the jaws of Damian the pit bull and is being eviscerated as men and boys hoot and encourage the carnage, unsympathetically throwing your terrified dog back into the ring each time that it manages to escape the battle. Your bleeding Lab will then be discarded into a vacant lot, and will watch the flies lay eggs in his exposed and bloated intestines. He will gradually die, surrounded by the smell of his own infected flesh, and without you there to comfort him.
If you can cringe at the thought of a dog suffering, surely you can understand that the chicken, although not keen in intelligence, has the ability to feel pain and to grasp the concept that it is suffering and about to expire. It is not a swift death. The bait birds are callously treated and often die slowly on the ground or in a box.
Commercial poultry butchering is, by the way, vile.
While I’m on this precarious pedestal:
I am anything but a PETA advocate. I believe that nature gave me an omnivore’s mouth so that I might enjoy the taste of a rare steak fresh from the BBQ.
Nature also gave me fingers and I use them to hold onto succulent spare ribs as well as to peel shrimp and crack crab legs. I have leather coats. I wear leather shoes. My SUV would have a leather interior if I had opted to pay extra for that package.
I firmly believe that the government needs to crack down on commercial livestock kill houses and clean up some of the unsafe practices. I do know what goes on in those facilities and, yes, I can still enjoy my prime rib. It is a conflict of interest but it is one that I see as necessary as I refuse to be vegan.
As for animal butchery: modern methods are a tad more civilized. Our ancestors would stop an animal from escaping by hitting it with something (rock, arrow, car) and then dropping something on its head to kill it (rock, boulder, house.)
I am vehemently against greyhound racing, pit bull fighting, cock fighting, and bull fighting. If man wants to get his kicks watching beasts suffer or kill each other, he can turn on Jerry Springer.
0 comments:
Post a Comment