In the 1960s, my small agricultural community in Washington State produced around 100,000 Thanksgiving turkeys annually. Today, that number has dwindled to fewer than a few dozen; I personally managed to raise just nine.

Historically, the turkey industry bolstered thousands of family farms and supported rural economies across the U.S. However, as the food and agriculture sectors shifted to prioritize low-cost food production, turkey farming transitioned from small family operations to a handful of large-scale producers.

Earl Butz, Secretary of Agriculture under Nixon, famously urged farmers to "get big or get out," a mantra he might view as a success in today’s turkey market.

Yet, this Thanksgiving, we gather for our meals amid a global pandemic that has disrupted food supplies, even in a leading agricultural nation like the U.S. Predictions from the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change suggest that food security will increasingly be jeopardized by climate change and population growth. Additionally, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency warns that rising temperatures could adversely affect agricultural output. In 2015, Roger Johnson, the president of the National Farmers Union, urged the USDA to evaluate how the consolidation of food systems impacts food security.

As we carve our turkeys this Thanksgiving, most Americans may overlook the vulnerabilities inherent in our consolidated food system. Perhaps we should reconsider this oversight.

The modern American turkey embodies both our successes in producing inexpensive, abundant food and our failures in sustaining regional food systems and food security.

My neighbor Al Sherman, now 88, recalls when his family was involved in turkey farming. After his father made a modest profit raising a few turkeys, they expanded their operation in the mid-1930s, taking advantage of the fertile soil and favorable climate of Whidbey Island. They raised turkeys in a pasture-based system, rotating them frequently in groups of about 2,000.

Sherman's children participated in their small hatchery, hatching up to 3,000 poults weekly. They supplemented the turkeys' natural diet with locally sourced wheat, and their operation thrived alongside other local farmers.

Sherman fondly remembers how the Shermans became known as the go-to turkey producers in the Pacific Northwest. He and his father would take live turkeys to Seattle for local children's TV shows, creating a community connection around turkey farming.

While the Sherman family was the largest local producer, many other farmers also raised turkeys, fostering a thriving local economy that included hatcheries and processing facilities.

However, as time passed, the family began to feel the pressure of competition. In 1935, a 16-pound turkey sold for about $3.21 (equivalent to roughly $61 today). By 2020, that same turkey would cost around $19.39, showing a significant drop in price.

The quest for cheaper and more efficient birds began in the 1950s, according to Frank Reese, a turkey farmer dedicated to preserving historic poultry genetics. He witnessed the shift from family farms to commercial production that prioritized rapid growth and larger breast sizes.

Genetic modifications led to the creation of the "broad-breasted turkey," which matures much faster than traditional breeds but suffers from various health issues. These birds grow so quickly that they often cannot walk properly or reproduce naturally.

Despite these problems, commercial producers focus solely on profit, often disregarding the welfare of the animals involved. Reese advocates for the preservation of traditional turkey breeds that were raised sustainably before the industry's transformation.

Sherman remembers when the industry began to prioritize the demands of the market, leading to the adoption of artificial insemination and the shift to white-feathered turkeys, which are visually more appealing to consumers.

By the 1970s, the turkey production on Whidbey Island had largely disappeared. Today, unless sourced from small-scale producers, most Thanksgiving turkeys likely come from large-scale operations in Minnesota, which dominates U.S. turkey production.

The consolidation of production has resulted in a system where cost efficiency drives turkey farming, leading to the rise of warehouse farming and the decline of regional producers. In 2020, Minnesota alone raised approximately 40–42 million birds.

While many consumers are accustomed to the low prices of commercially raised turkeys, heritage farmers like Reese still offer birds that connect to traditional farming practices. This year, a heritage turkey sold for about $160, reflecting the costs of sustainable farming versus mass production.

Klieger, an agricultural economist, notes that the disruptions from 2020 have highlighted the fragility of our food system, as many Americans shifted to home-cooked meals amidst food supply challenges. The lack of flexibility in a highly consolidated system can lead to significant impacts when crises occur.

As the food industry continues to evolve, the story of the Sherman family's turkey production illustrates broader trends in agriculture. Farmers strive to improve food production while markets push for lower prices, resulting in a complex relationship between food quality, sustainability, and consumer expectations.

Ultimately, the narrative of turkey production reflects the larger story of U.S. agriculture: a balance between efficiency and sustainability, one that continues to challenge farmers like Sherman and Reese today.