Two moved across from each other, held their birds by the chest, pinning their wings, and pushed the birds toward each other. When the birds seemed sufficiently aggressive, the men released them into the street.
It's only a friendly fight, my host assured me. There are no razors, nothing to cut with.
The birds flew at each other, head feathers raised in a crown. Their chests puffed out as they led their approach to the other with as much body showing as possible. Confrontations were made in the air. Sometimes one flew over the other; sometimes they bumped chests.
There was squawking, there was flapping, and one bird would back away. The birds would be caught by the tail, then the body would be tucked under the owners arm and it was quiet again.
There was no way to tell from a quiet bird what it would be like in an aggressive situation. One bird looked well groomed when quiet, and was tattered and mean when showing its feathers. Another was similar in the rest position, and imperial with its crown feathers making a perfect ruffle around its head. I can't remember which one won their fight. I was to busy looking at the visual differences.
A white rooster was not interested in fighting its designated opponent. When released, it went down the road, out of reach and started searching for food. The opponent joined him and the onlookers laughed at their owners.
At this neighbourhood event, there was no betting. Just cajoling, teasing and laughter.
No comments:
Post a Comment