The two opponents padded and paced on a snow-covered basketball court, waiting for their fight to begin.
They were adult Central Asian wolf dogs in the middleweight class. Both were undefeated in a combined 42 appearances in Russia's fightingdog rings. Each weighed more than 45kg.
The referee gave the sign. Their trainers released them. The dogs growled, lunged and met, locking jaws on each other's faces. They began pulling and twisting, each trying to force the other to the snow.
About 150 people lined the fences to watch. The most intense match-up of the fourth stage of the all-Russian dogfighting championship had begun.
Dogfighting is prohibited in much of the West, and animal rights advocates have long wished to have it banned in Russia and the rest of the former Soviet world, labeling it a cruel and a bloody diversion for gamblers and thugs. They have succeeded in Moscow, where the fights are forbidden by mayoral decree.
But throughout Central Asia and the Caucasus, and extending to the outskirts of Russia's capital, a form of the sport has thrived, cementing local legitimacy and gaining new followers since the Soviet Union's collapse 15 years ago. It has also returned to Afghanistan, where it was forbidden during the Taliban's rule.
The sport involves massive, thick-headed breeds, including Central Asian shepherd dogs and Caucasian ovcharka, bred by livestock herders across the continent to defend sheep and cattle in the mountains and on the steppe. Collectively the dogs are called volkodavs, the wolf-killers.
The All-Russian Association of Russian Volkodavs, which sponsors a national fighting championship and participates in fights in other nations, claims to have more than 1,000 breeders among its members and another 1,000 owners who enter dogs in fights.
It holds tournaments almost openly, and has enough fans to support a glossy magazine, a Web site and an annual championship tournament.
Its members brush aside criticism as ill-informed and superficial, saying the sport has roots in traditional contests in which shepherds tested their work dogs and celebrated their stamina and wolf-fighting skills. They also insist that their tournaments, unlike secretive fights with pit bulls and other fighting breeds, never involve contests to the death, and that the dogs are rarely injured seriously.
"Only people who have not seen it, and do not understand it, dislike this," said Stanislav Mikhailov, the association's president, as owners gathered recently for the latest tournament, held in a sanitarium in the Tula region, in the forest south of Moscow.
This event was at once open and partly closed. The fans streamed in. But one Western and three Russian journalists were admitted on condition that the sanitarium's location not be disclosed, out of fear of vandalism or protests by opponents of the fights. In the Caucasus and in Asia, dog owners said, such precautions are not necessary.
In the ring the fight continued. The dogs tugged each other in tight circles by their snouts and then broke free, snarled and attacked again. Sometimes they rose up, pressing for leverage with forepaws while driving forward on hind legs and seeking a purchase for their bared teeth.
Their handlers crouched beside them, shouting encouragement.
One dog, a reddish-tan shepherd's dog called Sarbai, took an early advantage. He weighed about 61kg, at least 13kg more than his foe. "Good boy, Sarbai!" his handler shouted. "Bite him well! Work!"



