Chickens, sting operations & the uncomfortable power of saying “yes”
Never in a million-billion-kajillion-trillion years could I predict that I would be tagging along on cockfighting sting operations for my job. How did I wind up on a farm in southern Iowa that was illegally breeding, raising, and selling hundreds of chickens for cockfighting? By saying yes… perhaps a little too freely.
It started with a phone call from a freelancing pal of mine who had a job lead for me. All he knew was I would be field producing a news-related gig with a videographer I’d never worked with before. Was I interested? Here was my first YES — an easy yes. A freelancing philosophy of mine: You can never have too many connections. Even if this gig fell through, I would know another freelancer in the area.
The videographer said we would be capturing the Humane Society on an animal rescue mission. It wasn’t a for-sure deal yet — we needed to provide a budget proposal. Was I interested? Here was my second YES.
And here’s where things got a little complicated, because I was in no way excited about going on animal rescue mission. My mind whirled with images of puppy mills and animal hoarding situations where you stumble upon dead cats as you make your way through a dilapidated house of horrors in the middle of nowhere. I am a bona fide animal lover. I grew up with all kinds of pets, from beagles to bearded dragons. I’ve named the family of deer that hang out in my backyard (The Does — John, Jane, June, Joni, Julie, and Josephine). I’m pretty much the epitome of the villainized Childless Cat Lady. How could I possibly handle see animals living in brutality and remain professional?
But the gig wasn’t a for sure deal yet. Another freelancing philosophy of mine: If the job is meant for you, it will come to you. Call it trusting the universe, call it wishful thinking. Hey, it helps me get through the day.
Sure enough, the job came to me. With a bit more information: We would be capturing the Humane Society while they busted a cockfighting operation.
WHAT?! Cockfighting? That’s a real thing?! That episode of Seinfeld where Kramer gets into cockfighting but ultimately cares too much about “Little Jerry” to let him fight was the first thought that popped into my head. (Because I was raised by parents who believe every life situation can relate back to an episode of Seinfeld or Looney Tunes.)
I had no idea cockfighting is, in fact, a “real thing” — a billion-dollar real thing in this nation alone. Here’s what the Humane Society of the United States has to say about it:
Cockfighting is a criminal industry in the U.S. that profits from violent cruelty to animals. It involves pitting two animals to fight — often to the death — for the purpose of profit, gambling and purported entertainment. Even birds who aren't outright killed during the fights suffer terribly. Common injuries include punctured lungs, broken bones and pierced eyes, yet the birds are forced to continue to fight.
So. Anyway. The videographer again asked if I was okay to do the project. And even though I was horrified, even though the very idea of cockfighting made me feel uncomfortable, I said yes. I don’t really know why I said yes. Maybe because I was only six months into my freelancing career and didn’t want to turn down an opportunity. Maybe because I had already said yes and didn’t want to seem unprofessional turning back now. Maybe because something inside me said this story needed to be told.
Animal rescue experts from across the country came to southern Iowa to assist in the sting operation, which involved coordination with several local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies. As we pulled up to the house, chickens chained to the ground were clearly visible from the busy highway. Across the street, a sign advertised farm fresh eggs. You had to wonder how many passersby and neighbors had full knowledge of this illegal operation.
Everywhere we looked, chickens were either tied to the ground; isolated in pens made from plastic drums, IBC tanks, or scrap metal; or running loose on the property that was lined with junkyard trash. The mature chickens’ wattles, combs, and earlobes had been cut off as those parts bleed profusely if they’re slashed in a fight. Many chickens had their back feathers plucked off and their spurs (a small horn-like projection from their back legs) filed down. (They’re replaced with taped-on knives and other gaffs in the ring — for real.)
The team estimated more than 700 chickens were living on the property. There used to be more, but the guy just had a big sales transaction in which his chickens were distributed to 10 states and up to 57 different individuals.
The Humane Society’s rescue team broke into small groups to take inventory and do a physical examination of every bird on the property. The videographer and I followed along, filming exams and other general b-roll of the property. We saw chickens slashed up and missing feet. We saw birds living in tiny, filthy pens alongside dead birds. We saw innocent animals with no access to clean food or water. Many of the birds had several different colored tags on their legs and wings — meaning they had been traded among many cockfighting operations throughout the U.S.
It was a bleak affair. I wondered why I had said yes, why this job had chosen me. But then, I had the privilege of interviewing a global anti-animal fighting expert and the director of animal rescues for the Humane Society. And I remembered that I’m here to tell stories — and not just any stories, but the ones that need telling, even if it’s hard to do.
Here’s what I learned:
Cockfighting (and animal fighting in general) is considered a “cluster crime,” meaning it’s often associated with drug trafficking, child molestation, gang activity, and illegal weapon sales. If you attend a cockfight, you’re likely in the same vicinity as people doing some really shady stuff.
When owners are preparing chickens for a fight, they put them in isolation cages where the birds can barely move and can’t see outside the cage for up to six weeks. During this time, they’re either over- or underfed depending on their weight and injected with adrenaline and other illegal substances so that when they’re let into the ring for their fight, they are acting on pure aggression.
People raise and sell roosters for fighting keep hundreds, sometimes thousands, of birds—creating an ideal environment for spreading diseases. The birds are regularly illegally transported across state lines with no regulation or oversight. Disease outbreaks like avian flu can be traced back to cockfighting and have recently resulted in the loss of hundreds of jobs.
How do people get into cockfighting in the first place? It’s often generational. Their grandparents fought birds. They went to cockfights when they were kids. They’ve been desensitized to the cruelty from an early age. Brutalizing animals doesn’t affect them the way it does other people. If it’s not “in their family,” people often come into cockfighting through other illegal activity. They might already be involved in arms dealing when they meet a guy who has a cockfighting operation on the side, and they see that they can make $40,000 in a weekend. Since these people already have a criminal mindset, it’s easy for them to get onboard with cockfighting.
Cockfighting is ILLEGAL in all 50 states, but a pro-cockfighting group known as the U.S. Gamefowl Commission is fighting to reduce cockfighting penalties. They host pro-cockfighting rallies and donate to legislators. These efforts have gained traction in several states. In Oklahoma, a bill that would have reduced cockfighting and dogfighting to a misdemeanor made it as far as passing the House before stalling.
I went home feeling so disgusted with humanity. Because not only was this guy raising birds for fighting purposes, the DNR also found he was trapping and killing birds of prey (extremely illegal in Iowa) AND illegally dumping thousands of gallons of chemicals in his backyard, which was right next to a stream.
There are so many of us who do everything in our power to be good people, good stewards of this planet. We recycle, we take in rescue animals, we humanely raise chickens in our backyards. Seeing the way these people lived and knowing there are possibly millions more out there just like them made me feel like all my “good person” efforts had been canceled out.
But then, I zoomed out on the experience a bit. I shifted focus from the hurting chickens and the man who was about to spend several years in federal prison. And I saw the people who had come from all over the country — Maryland, Texas, Tennessee, Maine — to save these birds. I saw the various levels of law enforcement — including the local police who alerted the Humane Society to the situation in the first place — who had put in the work to take down the operation. I saw myself and my videographer partner, perhaps completely out of our element on our first animal rescue mission, doing our best to capture this important story.
There are so many dark, twisted parts of the world lurking just around the corner. I played a tiny role in shining a little bit of light. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s worth saying yes.
More on the animal rescue mission: