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Manchester Farms: Where Quail Is Done Right

Manchester Farms: Where Quail Is Done Right


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In a world of mass produced, hormone-riddled products, Manchester Farms in South Carolina is going against the grain, sticking to their guns and doing what they do best: raising quail using old world methods. Miller took over for her father Bill Odom, a former poultry specialist for the Campbell Soup Company who started the farm in the 1970s.

Today, the farm produces 80,000 Pharaoh quails per week spread out over 380 acres of farmland. The owners are deeply committed to producing high quality quail with absolutely no antibiotics where the flock is fed an all-natural diet of soybeans and corn with an additional probiotic put into the feed. “We put in our feed what’s good for our children, which is also what’s good for our quail,” Miller told us during a recent visit. “We don’t rush them or cause them to grow faster either.”

The quails are raised on the property in barns instead of being raised free range in an effort to protect the quail from predators including snakes and rodents, as well as natural disasters and floods. The quails are instead raised in large barns where there are no restrictions on height or space for the animals, explained Miller.

As for the atmosphere in which they are raised, Miller says that a quiet flock is a happy flock. “When you walk into the barn, you want it to be calm and peaceful,” she noted, also adding that they split the flock up into three separate locations in an effort to protect against an outbreak of disease.

Each quail is hand de-boned on premises by a team of four employees who have been working at the arduous task for years. They have grown to be such experts that they can debone 100 quail in only an hour, said Miller. “Everything about a quail’s life cycle happens within our farm and we make all decisions on what’s best for health, care and safety,” she added.

“What we do is very old-world,” said Miller. “What’s great is that it’s now being recognized as the right way to do things. It’s nice to see people in the world of consumers recognize what is the right and the correct way to do this.”

And from these old world methods has come new world recognition from the likes of chefs, consumers and television cooking personalities. Nationally-renowned chefs such as Steven Satterfield of Miller Union in Atlanta, Jenn Louis of Lincoln Restaurant and Sunshine Tavern in Portland, and Michael Anthony of Gramercy Tavern and Untitled in New York often purchase from Manchester Farms.

Not only does the farm sell traditional hand deboned quail, it also sells bacon wrapped quail and quail eggs. The products are shipped frozen throughout the country and are often found in the frozen meat section of supermarkets and specialty food stores.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Roughly 80,000 to 100,000 chicks hatch each week at Manchester Farms.

South Carolina is quail country. Their numbers in the wild are not what they used to be, but they remain—hidden in the hedgerows and overgrown ditch banks that border farmland, lurking in the briar thickets and impenetrable brambles of pine savannahs. You’ll hear them before you see them. Their telltale “sliding whistle” call gives them away—as does their scent, for dogs in the know. For generations, hunters have waited patiently for that electric moment when their bird dog comes to a tense, quivering halt, tail extended, paw retracted, nose locked in point position toward a covey. Then all hell breaks loose. The covey bursts from its enclosure in a fluttering, lightning-fast, deliberately befuddling trajectory, more often than not rocketing straight past the hunter unscathed. With luck, a seasoned shooter will bag a few to take home, marinate them in buttermilk, and fry the birds up like chicken, or grill them and pile them on a thick bed of grits for breakfast.

Bill Odom, founder of Manchester Farms in mid-state South Carolina, knows this agrarian tradition well. He grew up hunting quail near Manchester State Forest and raised bobwhites in a backyard pen to train his dogs to their scent. His degree in poultry science from Clemson University, plus years of professional expertise supervising chicken farms for Campbell Soup Company, gave him a serious edge for husbandry. His flock grew beyond expectation. Neighbors asked to purchase quail for consumption, so Odom and his family began dressing birds on a backyard picnic table for distribution. When Campbell’s offered Odom a promotion that would have required a move to the company’s New Jersey headquarters, he stood his ground. His roots were too deep, and he had the seeds of a promising business right here.

In 1974, Odom launched the first commercial quail farm in the United States. Fast forward several decades, and Manchester Farms is now helmed by Odom’s daughter, Brittney Miller, and her husband, Matt. Odom still pops by to nod his approval. At any given time, Manchester Farms has half a million quail on the ground, destined for the kitchens of top chefs and home cooks from Charleston to Los Angeles to Dubai. South Carolina is quail country indeed.


Watch the video: Manchester Farms Quail near Columbia raises quail for 40 years (May 2022).