Elberton couple raise a different breed of turkey

Elberton — While hordes of shoppers were clambering around grocery store freezer aisles last weekend in search of their Thanksgiving turkeys, a smaller, chatty stream of folks formed a casual line at Tim and Liz Young’s farm in northeastern Georgia.

They’d come to pick up one of the Youngs’ $4.75-per-pound, pastured, hormone- and antibiotic-free turkeys for their holiday tables. The farm began taking orders for the birds in mid-March. They were sold out by May 1, with 100 people on a waiting list. They slaughtered, or “processed,” about 100 birds in mid-November, just days before these customers drove as much as three hours to get a heritage breed turkey — and a new perspective on holiday feasting.

Enlarge this image

Jamie Gumbrecht/jgumbrecht@ajc.com

Liz Young mingles with turkeys while Christa Maloy of Roswell talks to her kids, Shawn, 2, and Samantha, 5.

Enlarge this image

Jamie Gumbrecht/jgumbrecht@ajc.com

Farmer Tim Young carries a Bourbon Red turkey while other birds are unaware of the holiday fate that may await them.

• More photos

AJC.COM'S HOLIDAY GUIDE

• New Year's: Atlanta celebrates | The world | Send your photos | Your Resolutions?
• 2008's stupidest moment? Cast your vote
  • More Year in Stupid: The whole stupid story | Our stupid sing-along | Stupid in Atlanta | Oh, what a stupid world | Stupid celebs | Stupid products
• 2008's notable deaths: The 30 we'll miss the most | A month-by-month memorial
• Your photos: Hanukkah Pets | Santa Pets 8 | 9 | 10
• Plus: Recycle your tree | After-Christmas mall hours

“Life on the farm means death on the farm,” Tim Young said Saturday as customers toured among his pigs, cows, chickens, ducks and three dozen remaining turkeys — Bourbon Reds that “got the presidential pardon,” at least until Christmas.

The Youngs’ birds are probably not your mama’s turkey, but might be your grandparents’. The heritage breeds they raise were once common on farms, but nearly vanished as mass producers favored Broad-Breasted Whites, those tender, widely available birds that cook low and slow, breed only with human help and sometimes star in videos by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

By the late 1990s, only about 1,200 breeding birds remained among recognized heritage turkey types in this country. Now their number is about 10,000 and growing, as small farmers use them for pest control and soil fertility, and consumers find they’re good eating — flavored differently and quicker cooking than a Butterball.

Only a handful of Georgia farmers raise heritage turkeys, and poultry farmers and breed conservators say the Youngs appear to be the only ones making them available for sale to people beyond friends and family.

The breeds won’t and shouldn’t replace the Broad-Breasted White, said Jeannette Beranger, research and technical programs manager for the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy. They’re difficult to mass produce and couldn’t stand up to demand.

But heritage turkeys are a success story for biological diversity, local farming and food awareness — even if most shoppers might struggle at first to understand how eating the rare breeds helps to preserve them.

Bluntly, Beranger explained: “It’s fantasy to think you’re going to keep these birds around because they’re nice to look at. Don’t fall in love. They have a job: To be on the table or on the farm.”

A transition to the farm

Turkey buyers planned far in advance to get one of the Youngs’ turkeys; many followed their progress on the farm’s Web site. Metro Atlanta buyers could have picked up the birds when Tim Young delivered around the area Sunday, but many chose instead to wander the 76 acres with kids and leashed dogs, their Priuses and Volkswagens parked along the rocky drive.

The Youngs, with their herding dog and pickup, remember the life of their mostly urban buyers, but don’t miss it. Inspired by books such as “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” and “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” they moved two years ago from their home on a golf course in Cherokee County to the sustainable-practices farm they named Nature’s Harmony.

On Saturday, in front of their poultry-processing facility, Liz, 31, handled the turkey transactions, while Tim, 47, stepped into the grassy turkey yard to give buyers a closer look at the cohort of those that had become Thursday’s dinner.

“For us, it’s kind of a novelty, we get out there and we smile and let the turkeys peck around at our shoes,” said Drew Kleinhans, who often buys local produce but will taste his first heritage turkey this week. “It’s nice to see where it came from, to meet the farmers that raised it, to hear about their successes and failures.”

The Youngs firmly believe that meat eaters ought to know where their food comes from. They give most of their animals names and frequently post videos on their blog, including one that sets the bloody business of turkey processing to upbeat music.

They considered handing out short profiles of each bird as it was sold, but instead gave customers a centerpiece-style bouquet of turkey feathers mixed with farm grasses and pinecones.

“So many people are turned off [by processing] that it’s a secret. It opens the door to abuse,” said Liz, a one-time vegetarian who remembers how “horrible” and “gross” it felt to eviscerate a bird for the first time. Her queasiness changed when she realized her animals could be far worse off if processed by others.

“When you raise the animals in a loving, caring way, I enjoy doing the killing,” said Tim. “I wouldn’t trust it to anybody else.”

A teachable moment

It requires more money and commitment to obtain a heritage bird, but the Youngs expect to sell even more turkeys for next year’s Thanksgiving, even when the price per pound rises. (This year, about $6 to $8 a pound is the usual price, though some farms go as high as $11.)

Elizabeth Jaeger of Lawrenceville already had cut back her grocery store purchases and bought pork, chicken and beef from the Youngs, but Saturday was her first visit to the farm. Before she went, she talked with her 8-year-old son, Alex, who wasn’t sure he wanted to see turkeys running around if he’d be eating one for dinner.

“You have a couple of choices,” Jaeger recalled telling him. “If you’re going to eat meat, you can eat this — farm-raised and know that people treated it nicely, that it’s healthy, had a good life. Or you pretend that you don’t know and don’t want to. You can just look the other way.”

On Saturday, Alex was there in line with his mother, and even followed Farmer Tim as he grabbed a turkey by its feet and demonstrated how to hold it before processing. The family left with a 15-pound turkey and a recipe unlike any Jaeger had cooked before — hot and fast, no basting necessary for a bird built a different way.

Her son’s philosophical questions answered, Jaeger turned her attention to more practical matters. On Thanksgiving, only one question will really matter, she said: How will it taste?