Cockfighting was brought to Britain by the Romans, a cultural import. And is also the subject for painters as can be seen in right column. Philipson painted a range of paintings and this one hangs in the National Gallery of Scotland in Edinburgh: Fighting Cocks, Grey.

Human males seem to be the main participants, where they can take a vicarious pleasure in resorting to vicious violence - but through the congenital aggression of the cockerel towards other males of the same species.

Male competition for superiority yields to bragging rights, and thereby to wagering on the greater prowess of one's own cockerels.

To ensure this the birds are chosen for their innate aggressiveness, reared with the best of food and vitamin supplements, and trained to perfect their techniques using padded boxing gloves for protection.

But when they are two year old, they begin their professional life of fighting, and artificial claws, or spurs, are strapped to their legs for combat. They jump off the ground to attack with their claws attempting to stab each other; or should blades have been attached, which are even more lethal, to slash as well as stab.

They are often administered steroids to make them more aggressive and trained to increase their stamina. So not only Tour de France cyclists or Olympic weight-lifters take the benefit of steroids to enhance their performances.

“The birds kick out with spurs on. They rip upwards and bits of the other bird can get torn off.”

The RSPCA report that “There is a lack of veterinary care for these animals because it is an illegal activity. If they are not killed outright, many will die of shock afterwards,”

Cockfighting big business in Britain

The illegal practice of cock fighting remains big business in Britain, with prize birds stolen to order and forced to fight to the death.

“Cock fighters take pictures of their prize fighting birds in action because a successful cock can be worth hundreds of pounds.”

American witness

my grandpa is a man beholden to roosters and cockfighting. This is a sport where grown men tie blades to the heels of chickens and watch them eviscerate each other for money.

It’s a bloody spectacle as vicious as it is sudden. These roosters splay out their feathers at the beginning of the match, circle each other for a second and then leap in the air feet first trying to slash their opponent.

Often, these matches end suddenly and the winning rooster is hardly scratched. Other times, these competitions drag on mercilessly with neither cock able to stand. They just flop around like a fish out of water, and when the referee picks them up, the one with the strength to peck at the other is declared the winner.

I was 10 years old when my grandfather took me to my first match. He said this was the Filipino pastime, the country’s national sport. He brought one of his many roosters, held it in his arms like a child, smoothed its feathers as he drove five miles out to the nearest cockpit, a stadiumlike structure that looked like it would tumble over at any minute.

He talked to a couple of friends and set up a match. My grandfather and I watched in the stands. He put up some of his own money on his rooster, cheering for it to win. The cock tried its best but died when its opponent’s blade sliced through its breast.

My grandfather cursed. He went to his rival and talked to him. When a fighting cock loses, it’s the winner who takes home the body and I thought that my grandfather wanted to give the animal a decent burial. I was in the car when I saw him dangle his cock by its feet.

“So where are you going to bury it?” I asked.

He patted his belly. “In here,” he said, and an hour later, we had a chicken dinner.

Gieson Cacho, American blogger