Mrs. Gus Freiderichs didn’t set out to
build the largest turkey farm in Iowa. She just had an idea, one of those
quiet, stubborn ideas that settles in your chest and refuses to leave. Her
friends and neighbors near Maysville tried to talk her out of it. “Turkeys are
impossible to raise,” they said. “They die if you look at them wrong.”
But she didn’t budge. She bought a book called Hints for Amateur
Poultry Raisers, propped it open on the kitchen table, and started anyway.
Mrs. Gus Freiderichs and some of her turkeys
The early days were rough. The first twelve eggs gave her one bird—one tiny, lonely turkey. The rest hatched and died as if trying to tell her: “Turkey raising doesn’t pay. We told you so.”Anyone else might’ve quit, but she tried again. The second batch—twelve demanding little birds—felt like the universe giving her a reluctant nod.
From
there, it snowballed. She added more birds until by November 1930 her farm was
home to nearly six hundred turkeys. She built four sheds, fenced in a long run,
that protected her flock from thieves, coyotes, and every other creature that
thought a turkey looked like lunch. By spring, she planned to top a thousand
birds.
