The land has not been generous, but with work, effort and knowledge, the local people have always extracted enough from it to survive - sometimes barely, but always with dignity. They grew their own food, fed their animals with home-grown fodder, and every meal they prepared was the result of thoughtful work.
Every farm had some poultry; most of them were chickens, but sometimes also ducks or geese. But the farmyards of the turkey farms had a very special character. These large birds, with their spread tails and deep voices, raised the profile of the home, because they were not only for meat but also for pride. The turkeys were reared on home-grown corn, clover, herbs and scraps from the kitchen. They were raised slowly, with feeling. There were not many of them, which made them all the more precious.
In the run-up to winter, there was always plenty to do. All the livestock had to be fed, firewood had to be prepared and crops had to be harvested. Then an accident happened on one of the farms. The owner of the farm injured his hand and could no longer do his job. The family was left to fend for themselves, without enough fodder for their animals and without help. The turkeys, used to order, became restless. The hay in the barn ran out, the potatoes in the cellar, and the yard became noisy.
But there were still old customs in the village, and one of the most enduring was that if someone fell, others would help them up. So the neighbours approached without wasting a word. One of them brought a cart of corn, another helped unload the hay, and another gave the family a turkey, at least to get the children in the festive mood. Together, they cleaned the barn, repaired the fence and made a place for the animals.
The children from the different households involved learned more in those days than in any school; why it is important to know how much food a turkey needs, why you shouldn't give it wet feed and how to tell when it is not feeling well. They also learned the importance of solidarity between people, because no one asked what they would get in return for the work they had done, because they knew that helping was a duty, not an expense.
When Christmas came, there were no golden cutlery, but there was a warm stove, a full table and laughter. The gift of a turkey became part of a shared story; not only because it was roasted, but also because it was a symbol of that invisible bond between people who know what it means to work together.
In the Lower New Village, they knew that every step you take for someone else sooner or later finds its way back to you. Not by shortcuts, but honestly, the way you tend a turkey; slowly, steadily and with feeling.
Life on the farm teaches us that a warm stove and a full bowl on the table are not a given. Turkeys remind us that every living thing needs order, respect and care - just like human relationships. When we help our fellow human beings, we are not only building a better place or village, but a better world for all of us.
Zala Krupljan, 16. 4. 2025
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