People often discuss the idea of Old Florida — the time before suburban sprawl and superhighways, when roads like U.S. 1 were the main thoroughfares into the cracker boroughs of Northeast Florida. That Old Florida ethos — of Rebel flags and casual violence against varmints — is a thing of the past … for the most part. Some vestiges, however, live on.
In Glen St. Mary, on a lovely late-winter Sunday afternoon the first week of March, the cops busted a cockfighting ring. The police found 19 men and women and nine children, some as young as 3, watching or participating
in the action. Six people were arrested; 10 others face charges.
There's no doubt that cockfighting is a vicious sport (if you want to call it that): roosters peck at each other, ripping at eyes and organs, drawing blood, while a mob surrounds them in a perverse pastiche of family values. Show that to the kids — build a bridge over the generation gap from feathers and viscera.
But in some ways, there's an honesty to that — though probably not one appreciated outside cockfighting circles.
I reached out to Lauren Trad — a local activist who did as much as anyone to ensure that Duval County residents have the right to have hens in their yards — to get her take on the bust. She was unsurprisingly horrified. "I only advocate for hens," she says. "Eggs. Not fighting. Backyard hens are treated like pets, and their lives are filled with love and caring. Cockfighting is barbaric and cruel."
She's right. So, too, was Mark Twain, when he called it an "inhuman sort of entertainment."
Nonetheless, we must admit there is a strong case that cockfighting is part of a larger tradition of entertainment for rural people with little else to do beyond imposing violence on the natural world by setting animals athwart each other in a life-and-death struggle. After all, it's taken place in North America for centuries — as late as the late 1930s, in fact, Florida was a nationwide hub — … More