Squawks & Feathers

The expensive cars basking like fat seals in the parking lot came from as far away as Rhode Island, Texas and Michigan. Inside the arena, meticulously dressed fans exchanged tips in well-modulated tones. In most of the U.S., cockfighting today is a tawdry, fugitive affair of back alleys and darkened cellars. But in the bigtime environs of the Orlando (Fla.) Game Club, cockfighting is a perfectly legal "sport" whose devotees are proud of its bloody heritage. Last week, as the Game Club staged its 42nd annual international tournament, a trade magazine called Grit and Steel was moved to declare that the Orlando is "the oldest and most steeped in tradition" of all U.S. cockfighting events.

Last week's spectators at the Orlando paid $6 just to get into the arena, anted up another $5 if they wanted reserved seats down front. With avid concentration, they followed every move of a band of fierce-eyed battlers that literally would rather fight than eat or mate. Handlers first strapped razor-sharp spurs to the feet of their birds, then placed them on their marks on the clay-floored ring. At the referee's cry of "Pit!", the cocks were released to clash feet-first in mid-air in frantic flurries of squawks and feathers.

Good Reason. If no bird was the clear winner at the end of some 20 minutes, the pair was taken back to a "drag pit" behind the main arena and set to scrapping again. In one fight a cock belonging to Kentucky's Best and Kelly stable refused to quit, although it was repeatedly "shot gunned" (slashed in the head by both its opponent's spurs). At one point, the handler of the losing bird put half of its bloody head in his mouth to warm its damaged brain, blew on its body to keep a wound from stiffening and then set it out to fight again. In time, the bird weakened and died.

From the spectators' point of view, there was good reason for insisting on such a fight to the finish: to settle beyond doubt the bets that were hollered across the ring by fans waving fistfuls of money. One typical fight last week drew 30 bets averaging $100 each--enough to run total betting during the four-day tournament to well over $750,000. Betting in Florida is just as illegal as cockfighting is legal, but no one seemed to worry. "It's all been taken care of long before the fighting starts," explained one reserved-seat fan.

Simple Rules. But however frantic the betting became--or however bloody the fighting--the audience never failed to behave in the restrained manner befitting such a tradition-hallowed affair. The small children roaming the ringside heard no profanity, and no liquor was served inside the arena. As a sign over the door reminded the patrons of the best cockfighting in the U.S.: "Rules of this club are the simple rules that govern ladies and gentlemen everywhere."

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