Where Bulls Lock Horns for Sport

New York Times

20 hours ago

Visuals by Chang W. Lee
Text by Jin Yu Young Two bulls, each weighing over 1,300 pounds, ram heads and jab horns as their muscles ripple under velvety coats.They're fighting in a sand pit at the center of a stadium as a crowd cheers them on. 'Push him over, you rascal!' a spectator shouts.This bull-on-bull fight in rural South Korea ends not in death, but when one of the combatants runs away. The ritual is a source of village bragging rights in the hills of the country's south. Bulls typically start their fighting careers when they are 2 or 3. Trainers make them pull heavy stones and climb mountains to build strength and endurance.It's illegal to injure animals for gambling or entertainment in South Korea, but bullfighting is exempt because the 1991 Animal Protection Act doesn't apply to activities classified as 'folk games.'
At the Cheongdo Bullfighting Stadium, near the southern city of Daegu, bulls are spritzed with sanitizer before fights to reduce the risk of infection. South Korean critics of bullfighting, including a minor political party, call it animal abuse. They have called on local governments to cut funding that supports matches at several stadiums, and they're pushing to close the loophole in the 1991 law.
Bull owners insist that fighting bulls are treated well. Trainers disinfect open wounds and put numbing cream around horns to minimize pain. The Cheongdo stadium opened in 2011 and seats about 12,000 people.It was speckled with spectators when the first match began a little past noon on a recent Sunday. But as the day progressed, the seats filled up.
Bouts last anywhere from a few seconds to a half-hour. They're popular in part because bullfighting is one of the few activities where South Koreans are allowed to gamble. For some fans, Cheongdo bullfights are a weekly ritual.'I can cheer, yell, clap and release all of my stress,' says Park Kyung-won, 56, who has been coming here every weekend for the past two years with her husband.On good days, they say, they've won 2.5 million won, or about $1,800. Animal rights activists see the spectacle differently. They say it causes unnecessary pain, bleeding and injuries.Forcing bulls to 'fight and bleed against their will not only lacks educational value for families who bring young children, but also spreads a culture of disregard for life,' says Cho Hyun-jeong, an activist in Seoul, the capital. Bullfighting has been deeply ingrained in Korean culture for centuries.It was described in Korean folk tales as early as the 1500s, and a winning bull is still a badge of honor for its hometown. 'Some wouldn't understand the immense pride we feel when our bull wins,' says Kim Chang-sub, whose family has owned and trained the animals for generations.
That pride helps explain why fighting bulls eat so well. Their feed includes beans, ginseng and eel. 'Bulls are like boys,' said Park Jae Sung, the director of bullfighting at Cheongdo stadium and a third-generation owner. 'It's their instinct to fight and prove who's king.'Bullfighting will remain legal unless Parliament erases the exemption that classified it as a folk game.
So, for now, the bulls fight on.