With every new adventure, I feel more like a “real” farmer. For milestones with our animals, farming feels rawest when the task is hard. Bringing home precious baby chicks is fun, having to make the call to put down a sick cockerel is not. Nor is coming out one morning to find a young rabbit didn’t make it through the night. Those instances were not planned. But we have known since day one of caring for turkey chicks that the end goal was the ultimate end for them. That doesn’t make our first time harvesting animals for food any easier.

As their final day got closer, I began giving the turkeys extra treats like macadamia nuts and pumpkins. Along with some extra fattening, I wanted their last days to be as pleasant as possible. And I do think our turkeys lived happy lives. They always had access to organic feed and goodies from our garden, like greens, tomatoes, apples, and squash. They got free range time every day—running and flying around the garden and yard. Some days were like a parade, the turkeys following Bryon or me or KiKi the cat, with the ducks waddling behind the turkeys.

As we’ve said before, we are part of a wonderful community here in the Boistfort Valley. Our friends who supplied us with turkey chicks back in June offered to let us process our turkeys along with theirs. They rented equipment—a cone stand, scalder, and feather plucker—to speed up and simplify the operation. Plus, we felt relieved to have someone more experienced guide us through the steps.

The night before the big day, Bryon drove the three Toms over to Sadlon Family Farm. The idea was that they would have time to calm down after the transport. Before we loaded them up in the truck, I spent a few minutes chatting with the birds and thanking them in advance for the meals they will provide us. Side note: thanks to my San Leandro pals for supporting me on our Zoom call and via text.

Once Bryon left, the remaining hen began calling out for her friends, breaking my heart a little. We decided to keep Lady Gravy through the spring, when we will find another male turkey to mate with her in the hopes of raising our own chicks. I went into her pen to console her with soft words and dried corn. We might get another hen friend for her at the local poultry auction or let her move in with the ducks.

I’ll spare you the details of the day. But here are some things I learned:

• Don’t feed the birds 24 hours before harvesting. My mistake, wanting to give them one final meal their last evening here.

• The stress of the ride over probably wasn’t as bad for the turkeys as having other Toms pick on our males. That was what bothered me the most; I can’t stop thinking about the one who got the brunt of it.

• I handled the situation better than I expected, but I still shed some tears and kept whispering “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

• I wasn’t only a bystander; I did help pluck the feathers and watch how to remove the guts so that I can help with that next time. Maybe.

• If we had done this on our own, it would have taken much longer.

• A little bourbon helps with the nerves... and the cold, wind, and rain.

After we brought the processed turkeys home, they rested in the fridge for a few days. We divided two of them into parts for the freezer, with a plan for some to go into sausage. But first, we did a test run — braising two legs and thighs, and I also made pate’ out of the livers. All of the above were flavorful and delicious. We’ll roast the third bird for Thanksgiving, and I know I will appreciate it more than any turkey I have ever eaten before.