My name is Bello. I am not your typical rooster. I am not just there to wake you up or to provide new chicks, actually I am something most consider illegal.
Here I am in a cage on the pavement and all the tourists are passing by. Some are tiny, some are big but none of them have a clue of what I am. I still can feel the wounds of yesterday, stinging like a bee. My owner does not consider my activities illegal and she feeds me well. I get lettuce, tomato’s, fish and pretty much everything else to make me strong. However, the tourists think I am hungry or that I am dinner. If only they knew how wrong they are.
I am a fighter, twice a month I go into the ring. I don’t have a choice but to fight. If I am too weak, I will end up as your Easter dinner. Yesterday in Tomok I fought for my life. The blood was dripping down past my comb, I was so close to losing for the first time. So now you know, I am what I am. You can choose your side, but I will not be the Easter rooster who died.
Written by: Chelsea and Sanne
