Visit to Orient Point
September 19, 2024
As Nellie once crossed the Long Island Sound, so too did I, my thoughts drifting through echoes of old families and the briny allure of oysters. In my exploration of the oystering industry, one name surfaced in nearly every book about Suffolk County: Tuthill. The legacy of the Tuthill family is intricately woven into the fabric of this region.
Eager to connect with the oyster crew before their day began, I boarded the 7:00 AM ferry to Orient Point. Upon disembarking, I was greeted by an enchanting woman whose smile radiated warmth and adventure. Dressed in a bright green sweater adorned with cheerful blue whales, she introduced herself as Ruth Tuthill. Without hesitation, she whisked me away to meet her grandson, Brian, the partner and farm manager of Oysterponds Shellfish Company.
As we drove toward the operation, Ruth regaled me with her family’s rich history and the story of the company, skillfully weaving the past into the present. Tuthill was one of the original three families to settle on Long Island, in an area originally called Oyster Ponds—still referred to by locals—though its Indigenous name was Poquatuck. The peninsula stretches about five miles long and two to three miles wide, encompassing approximately three thousand acres that form the northern branch of Long Island. Its flat terrain and gentle hills made it ideal for farming. Peter Hallock first purchased the peninsula from the Poquatucks, and it was settled around 1647 by the Young, Tuthill, and Brown families. In 1776, a fort was erected by Col. Livingston at its eastern extremity to prevent the landing of British troops. Griffin’s Journal notes that in 1650, the area was home to six families; by 1700, that number had grown to twenty-four, and by 1800, sixty families resided here, with one hundred thirty-six families reported by 1855 (Bayles).
Just minutes from the ferry, Ruth turned off the main road and down a long dirt driveway, sharing cherished memories as we passed family land. As we reached the end of the drive, a serene opening unfolded before us—a protected oasis bordered by graceful, gnarled trees, framing a strip of land where sailboats dotted Orient Harbor. This was the heart of the Oysterponds shellfish operation.
The scene before me was idyllic; the scent of the sea and oysters filled the air, harmonizing with the rhythm of the workers and the wind. Immersed in this beautiful tableau, I savored every detail. Ruth retrieved a box of archives from her car and placed it on a weathered wooden picnic table painted in vibrant shades of azure and aquamarine. Moments later, a tall young man in a blue plaid shirt and baseball hat arrived, his smile as broad as his grandmother’s—Brian, eager to share his knowledge and experiences.
After a brief introduction, we settled down to discuss the operation. Time flew as Brian recounted stories of his grandfather Reg and his uncle, reflecting on the legacy they built. He spoke passionately about bridging the past and the future, honoring tradition while embracing innovation. His words resonated with themes of preservation and community, emphasizing the strong bonds among fishermen, shellfishers, and farmers.
Transitioning from family history to current practices, Brian highlighted the importance of communal support and education in ensuring a sustainable future. He described their efforts to clean the shoreline, reverse past damage, and dispel misconceptions surrounding the industry. As he spoke, I observed the diligent work being done around us—the careful sorting and nurturing of the current batch of oysters. He frequently pointed out his colleagues, stressing that none of this could happen without their dedication and expertise.
While our conversation could have continued for hours, it was soon time to move on. Brian invited me to return in the spring to witness the seeding process, a promise that hung in the air like the scent of the sea. (Click here to learn more about oyster and oystering.)
Our next stop was the Oysterponds Historical Society, where we met Amy Folk (collections manager, noted historian and author), Bill McNaught (curator), and John Holzapfel. After a brief introduction about the project, we toured the beautiful grounds, making our way to the Red Barn to explore a wonderfully curated exhibition featuring the history of Oyster Ponds. Artifacts related to the Indigenous people, shellfishing, and leisure activities like ice boating brought the region’s past to life.
With our minds enriched by history, we then visited the old center of town, home to the post office and the Orient General Store—a vibrant hub reminiscent of the early days, where locals gather to share stories, or as the Irish call it, “the crack.” The general store was charming and bustling, filled with warm smiles and the sound of laughter. Children darted through the aisles while retirees looked on contentedly.
Ruth ordered chili, and I requested the store’s most popular sandwich. As we savored our choices, Ruth effortlessly transitioned into planning our next adventure, her excitement infectious.
After lunch, we had just enough time to visit the Tuthill family plot in the cemetery, catch a glimpse of the old Tuthill farmhouse that Brian hopes to someday reclaim, and see the studios of the late artists Richard Serra and Bob Burke. Ruth shared insights about how the area has changed over time, particularly as a result of COVID-19. She pointed out the remaining farmland and discussed how some of it is being preserved by the state.
Before heading back to the ferry, we met Brian once more, who arrived carrying a box of freshly harvested oysters.
Finding a seat atop the ferry, I reflected on the day as we departed, with Gardiner’s Island smiling back at me. Later that evening, as my son and I shucked and enjoyed a few oysters, I shared my journey and the incredible people I had met, each welcoming me into their world. Brian had nailed it—Oysterponds oysters truly had one of the deepest cups, their taste sensational, sweet, and perfectly balanced with the salted water of the Sound.
