Spice Crusted Duck Breast (from Crescent Duck Farms) with Truffle Honey, Carrot Puree, Shaved Carrot Salad, and Duck Demiglace; made by Executive Chef Ali Loukzada, Storico | New York Historical Society, New York, NY
A seventh-generation duck farm on Long Island came dangerously close to vanishing. But a rare mix of community compassion, political will, and the quiet resolve of its owner is turning near-extinction into a rebirth. When a devastating virus wiped out the entire flock, panic wasn’t part of the response. Instead, prized genetics were preserved, local allies stepped in, and a comeback was quietly set in motion—rooted in biology, grit, and loyalty. Neighbors held fundraisers. Politicians opened doors. And now, the first eggs of a new generation are hatching—proof that when legacy meets resilience, even the oldest farms can begin again.
Doug Corwin and his team at Crescent Duck on Long Island have brought their family duck farm back from near extinction with determination, community backing and genetic stewardship. Established in 1908 by his great-grandfather, the farm had dwindled to just one remaining operation in a region that once hosted dozens. “It is a rebirth of everything we’d built,” Corwin said. His family’s long roots in the area—dating back to Southold in the 1640s—instilled a deep connection to the land and to a multi-generational agricultural legacy that prepared him for moments like this.
As he recounted, his upbringing on this ancestral land, combined with Cornell University training, helped him evolve Crescent Duck genetics to suit high-end culinary demands rather than volume commodity production. “We realized that most production was moving out to the Midwest… we had to evolve our genetics and our nutrition to go after the fine dining trade,” Corwin added. That focus—alongside serious investment in processing and waste treatment infrastructure—gave the farm a unique position in the marketplace.
Not all duck is the same, Corwin noted, explaining the importance of genetics in flavor, texture and fat profile. Competitors may offer birds with huge breast meat and minimal skin fat, which come across as efficient and lean—but they lack the succulent richness characteristic of Crescent Duck. “One of my big competitors has a very, very meaty bird with next to no skin fat… but it doesn’t taste like duck. Breast tastes like pot roast,” he continued. Another rival’s duck had so much fat it suited Asian-style cooking—but that wasn’t the niche Crescent filled. The Crescent genetic line produces a balanced blend of meat, crispy skin fat, and rich flavor prized by chefs and end user diners alike.
When disaster struck—a virus that breached biosecurity and triggered USDA APHIS depopulation—Corwin acted swiftly to preserve his breeding stock. Corwin detailed that he had stored eggs offsite and sanitized them to save the genetic line: “I realized that if I lose my genetics, I lose my comparative advantage. Fortunately, they found a way to allow me to save an old portion of the eggs… it was enough to give me a starting point.” He pulled together academic, family and community support and managed to move eggs off site to hatch safely.
The first hatch of the next generation felt like crossing the finish line, but Corwin remained pragmatic: “It was a rebirth. But as a farmer, there’s no turning back,” he noted. Initial hatch rates were only around 25 percent due to the age of eggs and harsh sanitizing, but it was enough to restart production. Those ducklings were reared on sites about 12 miles away, isolated while cleanup took place at the Crescent farm. Months of isolation, cleanup and careful rearing preceded the return to business planning.
Today Crescent Duck has approximately 1,500 females and 600 males at 24 weeks—now laying eggs that will set the stage for a full second generation. Eggs are expected to be harvested at roughly 1,100 per day over six to seven weeks—enough to produce a commercially viable second generation which could allow a partial return of staffing by next summer. As operations ramp up, he expects to rehire in phases and reenter restaurant and foodservice distribution markets by mid 2026.
Distributors and chefs tracking Crescent’s comeback can take heart from the timeline: the first generation has hatched and is laying now, the second generation will grow over the next 24 weeks, and full output may return within a year. Corwin mapped out the timeline clearly: ducklings hatch after four weeks; birds take 24–26 weeks to reach maturity and start laying—meaning the full cycle aligns for a summer market return.
Regarding how chefs and restaurant operators can engage: because Crescent Duck works through distributors like Baldor, Pat LaFrieda, Chefs’ Warehouse and D’Artagnan, professionals can connect via those partners to monitor availability. Corwin concluded: “I’ve been in contact with every single one of my distributors, and many of them have told me ‘When you get back, we’re going to have business for you.’ ” Tracking progress and restocking depends on those distribution relationships and advance orders, especially as Crescent redeploys limited volumes this season.
For restaurant or foodservice operators and distributors interested in sourcing Crescent Duck or learning more about the return of this iconic Long Island favorite, contact Crescent Duck directly via their website or reach out through established distributor partners. They are now taking inquiries and preparing to reintroduce Crescent Duck to menus and markets.
In the end, what looked like near extinction has become a careful and hopeful regeneration of a family legacy, backed by genetics, community, and a chef driven sense of quality. The next generation of Crescent Duck is being tracked, hatched, and grown—and soon to be served.