cwilleford.cockfighter-第32部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


t　on　it；　they　would　lose　it　in　a　hurry。　And　as　long　as　this　diet　was　maintained；　any　cock　could　be　switched　to　a　battle…conditioning　diet　and　be　ready　to　fight　within　ten　days。　By　weighing　them　daily；　any　sudden；　dangerous　weight　loss　would　be　detected；　and　the　feed　could　be　increased　slightly。　But　Omar　had　to　begin　somewhere；　and　the　new　diet　was　the　first　step　forward　in　his　professional　education。　I　returned　the　list　to　my　unhappy　partner；　and　this　time　he　accepted　it。　The　Claret　crowed　deeply；　anxious　to　get　some　more　attention。
　　〃You'd　better　crow　now；〃　Omar　shouted　at　the　gamecock。　〃By　this　time　next　week　you'll　be　too　damned　hungry　to　crow！〃
　　
　　
　　The　conditioning　of　game　fowl　is　not　a　job　for　a　lazy　man。　To　condition　five　gamecocks　for　the　hack　ing　up　was　easy　for　me；　but　I　don't　think　Omar　had　ever　worked　as　hard　in　his　life。　The　way　he　groaned　and　plained　was　downright　funny。　Just　wait；　I　thought；　until　we　start　condi　tioning　twenty　or　thirty　at　a　time。　In　order　to　get　six　cocks　ready　for　the　Tifton　derby；　we　would　have　to　condition　at　least　twenty。
　　After　I　rousted　Omar　out　of　bed　at　his　farm　at　four　thirty　two　mornings　in　a　row；　he　brought　a　cot　and　his　sheets　over　to　my　shack　and　bunked　there。　There　was　an　old　Negro　couple；　Leroy　and　Mary　Bondwell；　who　looked　after　Omar　at　his　farmhouse。　During　the　two　weeks　Omar　lived　with　me；　Leroy　fed　Omar's　cocks　with　the　new　diet。　Every　afternoon　Omar　drove　home　to　check　and　weigh　his　birds；　returning　to　my　place　for　the　evening　conditioning　sessions。
　　Buford　dropped　by　for　an　hour　or　so　every　day；　and　I　would　put　him　to　work　changing　straw　in　the　coops；　painting　coop　walks　with　creosote；　or　give　him　some　other　kind　of　odd　job。　But　Omar　and　I；　on　a　strict　time　schedule；　did　everything　else。
　　I　wakened　Omar　daily　at　five。　I　shaved　and　Omar　fixed　breakfast。　By　five　thirty；　at　the　latest；　we　were　in　the　cockhouse。
　　During　the　entire　conditioning　period；　the　cocks　were　each　kept　in　a　separate　stall　in　the　cockhouse。　The　wooden　slats　on　each　door　were　close　enough　together　so　the　chicken　couldn't　stick　his　neck　between　them　and　jump　up　and　down。　They　were　so　hungry；　they　thought　they　were　going　to　be　fed　every　time　a　man　entered　the　cockhouse。　If　they　were　allowed　to　bounce　up　and　down；　with　their　necks　between　the　slats；　they　would　bruise　the　top　of　their　dubbed　heads。
　　While　Omar　crushed　two　hard…boiled　eggs；　shells　and　all；　into　the　feed　pan；　I　measured　out　cracked　Flint　corn　and　pinhead　oats。　When　the　mixture　was　blended；　each　of　the　five　cocks　got　one　heaping　teaspoonful。　We　never　mixed　more　than　enough　for　one　feeding；　and　they　all　got　a　second　feeding　that　night。　Every　other　morning　I　tossed　three　or　four　large　chunks　of　marble　grit　on　the　floor　of　their　stalls。
　　When　the　chickens　finished　eating；　and　they　ate　fast；　a　cup　of　water　was　put　in　each　coop。　As　long　as　they　were　drinking　they　were　left　strictly　alone；　but　the　moment　they　quit　drinking　or　lost　interest　in　the　water；　the　cup　was　removed。
　　By　six　thirty　they　were　ready　for　the　foam…rubber　mattress　workbench。　It　was　firm　and　only　slightly　springy；　and　it　was　covered　with　an　Army　surplus　shelter　half。　I　ran　the　cocks　first；　one　at　a　time；　of　course；　from　one　end　to　the　other；　and　then　back　again；　twenty　times　the　first　day；　thirty　the　second　day；　increasing　the　number　of　runs　ten　each　day　until　they　reached　a　hundred。　A　cock　fights　fast　so　I　ran　them　as　fast　as　I　could　up　and　down　the　workbench。
　　Following　the　runs；　the　cocks　were　flirted。　Flirting　forces　a　cock　to　flap　his　wings　to　maintain　his　balance；　and　his　wing　muscles　are　strengthened。　Like　the　runs；　they　started　with　twenty　flirts　the　first　day；　and　were　increased　ten　flirts　every　day　until　they　reached　a　hundred。　Once　a　man　gets　the　hang　of　it；　flirting　isn't　really　difficult。　A　conditioner　must　remember　to　always　be　as　careful　as　he　can　so　the　cock　won't　get　bruised。　If　a　cock　is　flirted　roughly；　he　will　soon　get　stiff；　even　if　he　doesn't　get　bruised。　Omar　was　good　at　flirting；　so　I　usually　took　the　runs　and　let　him　fly　them　back　and　forth　between　his　big　hands。　It　was　a　pleasure　to　relax　with　a　cigarette　and　watch　Omar　work。
　　With　his　left　hand　on　the　cock's　breast；　he　would　toss　the　bird　deftly　back　for　about　a　foot　and　a　half；　catch　him　with　his　right　hand；　and　then　toss　him　back。　Omar　started　slowly；　but　once　he　caught　the　rhythm　the　cock　was　flying　back　and　forth　from　one　hand　to　the　other　so　fast　it　looked　like　the　cock　was　running　in　place。　He　had　a　definite　flair　for　careful　flirting；　and　he　was　proud　of　his　ability。
　　Every　other　day；　following　the　flirting　period；　we　heeled　a　pair　of　the　cocks　undergoing　conditioning　with　sparring　muffs；　and　let　them　fight　each　other　in　the　pit　for　about　a　minute　and　a　half。
　　If　one　of　the　cocks　appeared　to　be　too　tired；　I　didn't　spar　him。　There　is　always　risk　involved　in　sparring。　Even　when　a　bird　is　armed　with　soft　chamois　muffs　he　can　get　hurt。　But　by　watching　two　sparring　cocks　closely；　I　can　observe　how　well　their　stamina　is　building　up。
　　After　the　sparring　period；　the　cocks　were　allowed　to　rest　for　fifteen　minutes；　and　then　we　washed　them　with　warm　soapy　water。　To　help　relieve　soreness；　I　rubbed　their　legs　down　gently　with　a　sponge　dipped　in　rubbing　alcohol。　When　the　birds　were　all　washed　and　rubbed　down；　they　were　placed　in　separate　sun　coops　for　twenty　minutes。　There　was　a　roosting　pole　in　each　sun　coop；　and　if　the　cocks　were　still　active　enough　to　have　a　fine　old　time　jumping　up　to　the　pole　and　then　down　again　with　animated　eagerness；　I　made　a　note　to　increase　their　runs　and　flirting　for　the　next　day。
　　The　drying…off　period　gave　Omar　and　me　enough　time　to　have　a　coffee　break。
　　Before　we　returned　the　cocks　to　the　cockhouse　for　the　day；　each　bird　was　given　two　flies。　Two　daily　flies　not　only　bring　out　the　aggressive　spirit　of　a　gamecock；　they　get　him　used　to　the　idea　that　the　best　way　to　reach　his　opponent　is　to　use　his　wings　and　fly　to　him。　For　the　fly；　Omar　held　out　one　of　the　cocks　with　his　arm　extended；　with　the　tail　of　the　bird　facing　me。　I　held　the　flying　cock　on　the　ground　until　Omar　was　ready；　and　then　I'd　let　him　go。　When　I　released　his　tail　he　would　take　to　the　air；　but　before　he　could　reach　the　bird　Omar　was　holding　out　toward　him；　Omar　would　twist　slightly　to　one　side；　causing　the　flying　bird　to　extend　himself　to　fly　higher。　After　a　few　days　of　flying；　a　mature　cock　could　rise　eight　or　ten　feet　into　the　air　from　a　standing　position。　If　a　cock　could　remember　that　he　knew　how　to　fly　this　well；　it　could　save　his　life　when　pitted。
　　The　flies　pleted　the　morning　conditioning。　A　record　sheet　was　kept　on　a　clipboard　beside　each　coop；　and　I　filled　in　the　cock's　weight；　number　of　runs；　flirts；　flies；　and　made　a　note　of　his　color。　The　well…conditioned　cock　has　a　dark　red　face　and　b。　When　the　color　turns　pinkish　something　is　wrong。　In　the　space　for　ments　I　jotted　down　any　observed　weaknesses；　or　changes　to　be　made　in　the　diet　due　to　gains　or　losses　that　were　unexpected。
　　Like　people；　every　gamecock　has　to　be　handled　a　little　differently。　A　chicken's　brain　is　about　the　size　of　a　BB；　but　within　those　tiny　brains　there　is　an　infinite　variety　of　character　and　personality　traits。　I've　seen　personalities　that　ranged　from　lassitude　to　zealousness；　from　anarchy　to　obedience；　from　friendliness　to　indifference。　Luckily；　a　chicken　can't　count。　If　they　could　count；　they　would　have　resented　the　daily　raising　of　the　number　of　flirts　and　runs　we　gave　them。
　　A　gamecock　is　the　most　stupid　creature　on　earth　and；　paradoxically；　the　most　intelligent　fighter。
　　When　my　chart　notations　were　pleted；　I　dropped　a　canvas　cover　over　the　slatted　doorway　of　each　coop；　and　the　darkness　kept　the　birds　quiet　until　it　was　time　for　the　evening　training　periods。
　　The　other　cocks；　not　under　conditioning；　were　fed；　watered；　examined　and　weighed；　and　I　was　through　for　the　morning。　Omar　and　I　would　then　play　chess　until　time　for　lunch。　When　Buford　was　around；　I　drove　to　Omar's　farm　for　lunch；　and　inspected　his　gamecocks　before　returning　home。　If　Buford　failed　to　drop　by；　I　would　cook　either　a　potful　of　canned　beef　stew　or　pork　and　beans　and　fix　a　pan　of　hoecakes。
　　〃How　e　you've　never　gotten　married；　Frank？〃　Omar　asked　me　one　day；　as　he　looked　unhappily　at　his　heaping　platter　of　hot　pork　and　beans。　〃By　God；　if　I　didn't　eat　something　else　besides　stew　or　beans　every　day；　I'd　marry　the　first　woman　who　came　along！〃
　　Omar　was　so　used　to　my　silence　by　now　that　he　answered　his　own　questions。　〃I　don't　suppose　many　women　would　want　to　marry　a　professional　cockfighter；　though。　Most　of　the　women　I've　known　want　their　husband　home　every　night；　whether　they　like　him　or　not；　just　so　they　can　have　somebody　to　plain　to。　But　canned　beans…ugh！〃
　　In　the　afternoon；　after　Omar　went　home；　I　took　a　walk　with　one　of　my　gamecocks　that　wasn't　undergoing　conditioning。　When　taken　out　of　their　runs；　some　of　the　cocks　would　follow　me　around。　They　liked　attention；　but　they　also　hoped　that　I　would　drop　a　grain　of　corn　on　the　ground　now　and　then。　And　sometimes　I　did。
　　Mary　Bondwell　either　fixed　supper　for　us　at　four　thirty　at　Omar's　farm；　or　we　drove　into　Ocala　for　a　steak　or　barbecued　ribs。　By　five　thirty；　we　were　ready　to　start　the　conditioning　all　over　again…the　feeding；　weighing；　flies；　flirts；　runs　and　recording。　Not　many　game　strains　can　stand　up　to　the　hard　conditioning　I　give　them；　but　my　two　cocks…the　Mellhorn　and　the　Gray…came　along　fast；　and　Icky　thrived　on　it。　Omar's　Roundheads　had　a　tough　time　for　the　first　three　days；　but　as　soon　as　their　excess　fat　disappeared；　they　came　up　nicely。
　　At　night；　to　get　our　gamecocks　used　to　lights　and　noise；　because　they　would　be　fighting　at　night　later　on　in　the　season；　I　turned　on　the　overhead　lights　of　the　cockpit；　and　played　sound…effects　records　on　a　portable　phonograph。　The　records　weren't　loud　enough　to　suit　Omar。　He　charged　around　the　outside　of　the　pit；　shouting　out　bets　at　the　top　of　his　voice；
　　〃Hey！　Who'll　give　me　an　eight　to　ten！　I　got　a　blinker　here；　half　dead　already！　Who'll　lay　twenty　to　ten！〃
　　He　then　accepted　preposterous　bets　in　a　mincing　falsetto；　managing　to　make　enough　noise　for　a　major　cockpit。　It　was　ical　to　wa