Dishing Local
From the Gazette Turkey Files:
The turkeys that adorn Thanksgiving tables come mostly from the mainland. But there was once a time in the not-too-distant past when the Island-producd turkey was as much a part of Island gourmet eating as Island-produced seafood.
One establishment, known as the Turkey Farm, produced enough quality turkeys to supply the Thanksgiving table for both Island and off-Island Vineyard purists. Raising turkeys up until the establishment of the Turkey Farm in 1932 was considered a losing proposition from the start. The Vineyard climate was not congenial to mass raising of turkeys. For generations, attempts to raise the bird in large numbers had been disastrous, until Joseph S. Bettencourt and Oscar M. Burke, both of Edgartown, created the farm.
In 1932 Mr. Bettencourt, then caretaker for the Burke homestead in Edgartown, took over the farm. At that time, there were only three turkeys. From then on, the stock of turkeys was much increased.
On December 1, 1939 the Gazette had an advertisement cancelled, that of the Burke Farm, scheduled to run six more weeks. It was cancelled because the farm had no more turkeys left. All had been sold — four or five hundred of them. “It is estimated that no more orders can be taken — even with Christmas still ahead.”
At the end of the year it was announced that five acres at the farm were being cleared for the construction of brooder houses, small enclosures for the raising of more turkeys. By February 13, 1942, 4,000 eggs were in the process of hatching at the farm and an average of 1,400 more were added each week. By 1944 the farm was exporting both fully-grown birds and the newborn version to other farms. Unfortunately by 1948 shipping of batches of poults off-Island had to be discontinued because of the irregular boat service. All the 5,000 to 10,000 chicks were raised to maturity on the Island.
It was noted a turkey grower had to be something of a psychologist to understand the mental make-up of his pets. They can be stampeded by a strange noise. Thunder or lightning, a passing airplane, a bit of flapping paper, can send them into hysterics. If one gets sick, the others follow suit, often with no apparent ailment. If they see something strange in a neighboring field, they can crush one another in a wild attempt to satisfy their curiosity.
Mr. Bettencourt was successful enough with the farm that he was able to purchase it in 1952, after 20 years of managing it. And for 12 years he operated it, until it was sold to George Schwab, a former manager of Heathland Farm, a poultry farm at the Martha’s Vineyard airport. Heathland had been established in 1949 by Peter Mitchell in large measure as a result of an exhaustive survey of the productive capabilities of the Island and the feasibility of producing things consumed here. The survey disclosed that the Island imported large quantities of produce that could be raised here economically.
It was Heathland Farm which, having announced its new plan of supplying roasted turkeys, received a telephone order. The prospective customer very much desired to obtain a roasted turkey for a cocktail party. But, she inquired, do you deliver? No, said George Schwab, it isn’t practical for us to make deliveries. “Well,” said the customer, “we’ll be too busy to come up to get it, but we’ll send up Look’s taxi.” Mr. Schwab said that when he called the taxi he did not divulge the nature of the fare.
Mr. Schwab provided a sequel to the story about a woman in Albuquerque, N.M., who couldn’t bear the thought of a 1963 Thanksgiving dinner unless the bird came from the Vineyard. Mr. Schwab learned that the bird had arrived in New Mexico only two days after it was dispatched from the Vineyard, and if it was not hard-frozen when it got there, it was still a pretty cold bird and was thus in excellent condition. The portage was eighteen dollars and fifty cents, or $1.46 per pound. The price of loyalty can be high.
In 1966, the Schwabs found a damaged egg on the Lobsterville Road. What better place could there have been for an egg and the baby seagull which emerged from it to have landed. So, on a diet of turkey mash, the baby gull thrived. There was no end of talk and concern that he would grow up thinking he was a turkey instead of a seagull. But, barring a few irregularities, he behaved like a gull.
He did go off daily in pursuit of whatever gulls pursue. The condition of his feet led them to believe that the gull had discovered water as something to paddle in and fish from, but there was just enough turkey in the little fellow to want to be fed all the turkish delights at the farm. So in the evening when he was hungry and tired, it was nice to come home and play turkey.
The turkey farm continued, and the business thrived until 1967, servicing Vineyarders celebrating Thanksgiving both off-Island and on.
Compiled by Cynthia Meisner
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