To Sell or Not To Sell

It's a rainy Saturday morning here once again and when I cannot do anything except watch my gamefowls from the porch, I am left with nothing productive except to play with the kids, check out the funny, weird and sometimes heart-breaking posts at Facebook and of course try to update this site which I haven't done for quite some time now. And as far as my blog is concerned, well, I must plead guilty for neglecting it.

But the rains seem to have done my writer's block a world of good. As a nurse, I couldn't think of a medical reason why no matter how hard I try, I couldn't put all my thoughts into a coherent piece on the screen, hence the long hiatus from making any blog entry. So as the rain pours on, I type furiously on the keyboard, somehow holding the irrational fear that if the rain stopped, so would the flow of words. God forbid!

I only maintain a small number of fowls a year. If I had my way, I would keep them all for myself and I think every breeder somehow feels the same way, whether they admit it or not. There is a certain feeling of power (and perhaps a little selfishness) that comes from being able to create a pit warrior from the breeding materials you own that it can be very hard to let a stag or cock or even a feather go.

But all breeders know that it's difficult to maintain this hobby. Cockfighting and breeding requires not only a substantial time investment but financial allocation as well. We spend money for feeds, vaccination, housing and medicines when our prized fowls get sick. This does not include the money we spend for getting the best materials. And I am sure that you will agree with me when I say that we do not want to spend for, much less care for and breed, second-rate breeding materials.

As I have said, I would have preferred to keep my fighters for myself. But doing so would only be too financially draining on the pocket. I do not want my hobby which gives me immense joy and satisfaction to be burden to my family who I love first of all. Thus, like most breeders, I sell.

I always feel genuine sadness when I let my fowls go. After all, I treat them like family. I know when they're hungry, when they are not feeling their best or when they are ready to whip other roosters in the pit. So it is always with unhappiness when I sell.

But you know what makes this feeling worse? It's when I see my fowls go “off” or cease to perform the game I know they are really made of when I see them being subjected to unnatural conditioning methods like what my friend did who financed a derby entry. The rigorous training he subjected my fowls to included dropping a substantial amount of my bird's bodyweight drastically and letting it do exercise routines that even Manny Pacquiao would object to.

Sometimes, I am even relieved when a buyer decides to back out at the last minute. Although it can be frustrating since I always believe in honoring commitments, there is a tinge of happiness when I get to keep my fowl in the end.

Still, the fact remains that I need to keep on breeding. And if I want to continue to engage in this hobby for life (which I intend), I have to let my fowls go. I can only hope and pray that those who got fowls from me will take care of them the way I do. This is every breeder's wish, I suppose, and what every self-respecting sabungero ought to do. For in the end, how we treat our fowls is a reflection of us and the dignity, honor and respect we give not only to our fellow cockers and breeders but to the age-old tradition that has defined our identity as a nation.