BY MARK HALL
Photograph by Kathy Stunden-Hall

First I hear a whistling sound and then a noisy crashing in the underbrush, followed by a kind of grunt. Suddenly one, and then a whole flock of fifty dazzling white turkeys, comes strutting out of the ravine that crosses my farm.

It’s early September and these birds are now getting big. Perched on long, sinewy legs, they stand about two feet tall at their shoulders, and their long necks stretch up even higher. Their feathers are thick and glossy, their combs crimson, and their black eyes bright. The tom turkeys – the males – are developing their beards, a dark tuft of hair a few inches long that dangles from their chests.

All that whistling and chirping means they’re happy. Our flock enjoys spending the day outside in this traditional terrain for turkeys. What do they do in a day? Each morning they burst out of their pen and into the yard, where they eat some grain before heading out into the ravine, their heads darting as they busily search for seeds, insects and green plants.

With those tough legs and feet perfectly formed for scratching through the soil surface and long necks for reaching favourite snacks, turkeys are well equipped for unearthing the foods they desire. Ours will clamber over fallen trees, rocks and the steep ravine hillside. Some poke at the green casings of black walnuts that have fallen to the floor of the bush, while others delight at the discovery of sweet apples from the wild fruit trees that dot the ravine.

In the mid-day heat of a summer day, they will find some shade, roosting if they can on logs or branches. It’s quite a life for a turkey. At the same time as they scrounge for food and other exciting experiences, they are building muscle, breathing in lots of fresh air, keeping their legs in good shape, and taking in plenty of nutrition from natural sources.

It’s hard to believe they started here in June as five-day-old chicks. Our supplier starts them out from hatchlings for us, keeping them toasty warm in heated, 95ºF sheds to get them going well. When we pick them up, they are still small enough to fit into your cupped hand. We do our best to keep them fed, watered and warm under red heat lamps in a revamped garage on our farm.

Ours are the standard white commercial turkey, but when they leave in the fall, they will be nothing like the mushy, palm oil-infused supermarket variety. One of these years we hope to raise a batch of such heritage breed turkeys as Bourbon Red or Ridley Bronze, maybe even the Beltsville Small White. They would be more of a challenge, as they would grow out more slowly and might have less white meat than most customers would like. Still, I’m sure we could find a market for some of them.

Bringing along even the standard white birds can be difficult in years like this one when, despite the date on the calendar, the weather can remain unseasonably chilly until our chicks have grown out their real feathers, which takes a few weeks. We have to be careful that they don’t crowd under the lamps – the unlucky chicks on the bottom can smother. This year we divided them into two groups, each with its own heat lamp. The bedding must be changed regularly to keep conditions dry to avoid respiratory disease. At the same time, they need room to start running around when they’re ready. It’s a real balancing act and requires constant observation.

Before long, the chicks are hardy enough to move to a larger pen. This one is enclosed top and sides with mesh, giving them a chance to get lots of air and sunlight while remaining safe from any predators such as skunks or raccoons. If you stretch your hand into the pen, they’ll happily poke away at your wedding band – “kissing the ring,” we call it. They also love having bits of fresh greenery dropped into the pen so they can become accustomed to the real thing that they will soon be foraging for.

In the past, almost all turkeys in Ontario lived with access to pasture. In the days before industrialization, even as late as the 1960s, they were still raised “on the range” in this part of Ontario. My wife can recall hearing the soft gobbling sounds of turkeys raised outdoors a concession south of her family’s farm when she was a child. I own a textbook on raising turkeys that was published in the late 1940s and was used by students at Barrie Central Collegiate in the post-war years. In fact, I used some plans from the book to build the range hut in which our turkeys spend each night.

Today, mainstream producers are expressly forbidden by the Turkey Farmers of Ontario (their marketing board) from permitting their birds to go outdoors. All must be raised under a solid roof at all times, enclosed by solid walls or fine mesh. This, according to the marketing board, “has everything to do with bird health and food safety.” The intent is to keep domesticated birds away from wild birds, from predators, and from the elements. This is how virtually all turkey sold in Ontario, particularly in supermarkets, is raised.

Luckily, farmers like us – those without quota – are not affected by the indoor rule, not yet at least. We are permitted to raise just fifty turkeys per year, meaning we must run a very diversified farm with turkeys as only one part of our operation. We certainly take bio-security, animal welfare and food safety very seriously. We feed our turkeys in an area away from wild birds. They forage in the fringe areas between fields and bush where they have cover from hawks, and they come in at night, away from coyotes.They get to live their lives as turkeys, flapping their wings, pecking and scratching for snacks, and revelling in the sunshine and fresh air.

Like the pigs that “work” other areas of our farm, the turkeys play a part in the biosystem here, keeping down weed and insect populations while helping to stir up soil and inadvertently planting seeds that grow into useful plants for another year. We in turn are rewarded with the pleasure of watching them grow out, and in having healthful, flavourful turkeys for our customers and our own family each Thanksgiving and Christmas.

We like to think of our methods for raising livestock as adaptations of older methods for use in modern times. We are not prescribing these ways for everyone else, but as interest builds in restoring local foods and local food systems, it sure would be rewarding to see more small farms using at least a portion of their land for a variety of livestock and poultry production. Doing things this way is almost getting to be a lost art!

Also becoming harder to find are local processors. Abattoirs of all types – poultry and beef, pork, lamb and goat alike, are getting to be fewer and farther between. Their costs are constantly inching upwards as they, too, strive to make a living while meeting increased government regulations.

Even though we live in the centre of bustling Simcoe Country, we still face an hour’s drive to and from our closest custom poultry processor. Every year, a week of two before Thanksgiving, we carefully load the turkeys into the two compartments of our livestock trailer and off we go along the hilly roads of North Simcoe. Forty-eight hours later, we will return to pick up our frozen birds, each packaged in a thick plastic bag printed with the official provincial government inspection seal. From there, it’s back to the farm to meet up with eager customers.

What do our customers like? They enjoy the fact that their food has been raised with access to the outdoors, for the birds’ sake and for their own. Rather than toughening the meat as uninformed people might think, all that exercise, fresh air and green plants give the birds a juicy texture and delicate flavour. Weighing in at seventeen to twenty-four pounds post-processing, some turkeys may be larger than many people traditionally purchase, but once they’ve tasted them, they are happy to have lots of leftovers.

Lover’s Creek Farm
Grenfel, Ontario
(705) 735-9423
www.agrarian.vox.com

Mark and Kathy Hall are the farmers of Lover’s Creek Farm located in Grenfel, fifteen minutes west of Barrie. They raise grass-fed beef, free-range pork, and eggs and poultry on their 48-acre farm, providing tasty, everyday food for local families. Their relatives began farming in the earliest days of what is now Ontario, and if their ancestors could see the Halls’ farm today, the Dexter cattle, Tamworth pigs and Plymouth Rock hens all out on pasture would look pretty familiar.

© Edible Toronto, Fall 2009
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