In a noisy cockpit in the Philippines, Dennis de la Cruz grins from ear to ear as he watches his roosters beat their opponents to death in a frenzy of blood and feathers.

Closed for two years during the Covid-19 pandemic, traditional cockfighting arenas across the archipelagic nation are again reaching full capacity.

Cockfights are very popular in the Philippines, where millions of dollars are wagered on games every week.

Spurred roosters go beak to beak in a brutal fight to the death while spectators – mostly men – bet on the outcome.

Supporters defend the blood sport as part of Filipino identity, arguing that if the birds didn’t fight, they would be eaten.

But opponents claim it is cruel and should be banned, as is the case in many other countries.

“In our village, more than half the residents are cockfighters,” 64-year-old de la Cruz told AFP at a recent derby in San Pedro, a city south of Manila, where he claimed a win behind the one-million-peso Mark was left behind ($17,000) champion’s pot.

The son of a longtime cockpit operator, de la Cruz said he never had a regular job. Instead, he relied on his profits from the roosters bred by his nephews on a large farm.

In a country plagued by inequality, cockfighting is a unique “neutral zone” where rich and poor mingle and play by the same rules, said University of the Philippines anthropologist Chester Cabalza.

Adhering to a strict code of honor, before the pandemic, viewers used hand signals like stockbrokers to place their bets during a game that can last less than a minute.

It’s common for 300,000 to 400,000 pesos to bet on a single fight, an enthusiast told AFP.

After each bout – there are 15 an hour – crumpled bills are hurled at the winning bettor.

Losers who gobble up bets run the risk of being attacked.

When cockpits reopened, regulators, who couldn’t spread the coronavirus through over-interaction with crowds, ordered operators to install betting machines so winners could collect their money at the register instead.

“When your tail wins, you step out of the ring like a tough guy – you exude a macho image,” said wildfowl breeder Edwin Lumbres, bulging his chest for emphasis.

“But when you lose, you hang your head and shuffle like someone whose masculinity is suspect.”

Katrina Del Espiritu Santo of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is pushing for a ban on cockfighting because the birds “must fight to the death”.

But the activist’s efforts have not gained much traction in the Philippines.

Fighting cocks are ubiquitous across the country and a prized possession – despite their loud crowing at all hours.

A bird can cost anywhere from 3,000 to 15,000 pesos, depending on its parent’s earnings record.

Fighting chickens are kept in wire cages outside homes in urban areas or in triangular shelters on farms scattered across the country.

When cockpits went silent early in the pandemic, many small breeders couldn’t afford to feed their flocks and were forced to sell roosters at flea market prices — or throw them in the cooking pot.

Others admitted to staging illegal fights to make ends meet.

In a bid to revive the sport and provide revenue to government coffers drained by the Covid-19 response, former President Rodrigo Duterte authorized seven outfits to conduct online cockfights.

The bouts, known as E-Sabong, were held in empty arenas and streamed 24 hours a day, allowing people to place minimum bets of 200 pesos per bout on their mobile phones.

The popularity of the sport exploded – and with it the revenue.

People who had never seen cockfights began to gamble, while large breeders saw an increasing demand for their poultry.

Duterte said the national government rakes in 640 million pesos a month in fees — even as the economy falters.

It was also lucrative for E-Sabong operators.

Charlie Ang, who runs Lucky 8 Star Quest, told a Senate investigation earlier this year that Filipinos wager between 1 and 2 billion pesos on his platform every day, which he says accounted for about 95 percent of e-sabong bets.

But the disappearance of 34 cockfighting workers earlier in the year, feared dead, and reports of players being pushed into financial ruin exposed the seedy side of E-Sabong.

Some suitors reportedly killed themselves, while a woman was arrested for allegedly selling her baby to pay off a debt.

Amid mounting pressure from the public and lawmakers, Duterte reluctantly shut down online cockfighting near the end of his term in June.

But as pandemic restrictions eased last year, local governments began allowing traditional cockpit operators to resume fighting — to the relief of millions of Filipinos.

“People were angry because their favorite pastime was being taken away from them,” said Dondon Clanor, 45, an avid cockfighter.

“Now everyone is happy.”