The chick backed away, ashamed of what he had done. The other cockerel had a patch of feathers missing. The man shook his head. "Keep going; you can do it." The little cockerel refused to keep battling. He saw the pain in the other chick's eyes, and he couldn't do it again. The man gave up and tried again the next day. He brought in the same chick to him, which was now angry at him for the wound. He forced them to kick each other again, and some feathers flew off of them. Still enraged, the other one charged at him. He was left on his back, unsure if he should attack back. The chick kept pecking mercilessly at him, and he had to fight back. With a single swipe of his spur, the chick fell to his back and begged to be spared. "Very good, SwordSpur!" Cheered the man. SwordSpur was pleased to have a name, but the meaning disturbed him. SwordSpur backed away from the little cockerel, nervous. The man praised him. "You did great, SwordSpur. I will try again with you next week." And the man took the cockerel, placed him back in the pen, and took the other chick in the house to bandage it.