The following narratives are from several people who have gone through the easement process. Click on their name to read their story and experience about this process.
Alan Cohen
This essay reflects the thoughts that led to my decision to put a conservation easement on the land that has been my teacher for the past 30 years.
Sun sparkles snow to oblivion.
Creamy clouds split the turquoise sky.
The ancient sandstone delta has matured over the last 325 million years into a vast sweep of forest. On this late November day its bones replace the recent tapestry of autumn brilliance, gray sentinels holding the earth as the earth holds them. It would not be difficult to walk into these woods and get lost, literally if you do not pay attention, and figuratively if you do.
The poet David Wagoner uses Native American themes and stories in his work. The poem Lost addresses the question of what to do if you find yourself lost in the forest.
Lost
Stand still.
The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
and you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes.
Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again,
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still.
The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
The key to finding (and knowing) your way depends upon recognizing the forest as a powerful being and paying attention to detail. Each tree, each branch, each leaf must be acknowledged in order to establish a proper relationship with the whole.
I feel lost at this time too. I have matured from a passionate planter of six inch seedlings with all the time in the world to watch them grow, into a man at midlife, still passionate, but knowing that time is finite. I was lucky to find my literal place in the world – a ninety acre ridgetop of woods and fields in which to sink my roots. Years of hard work have resulted in the creation of many gardens, ponds, and drifts of sparkling wildflowers and bulbs every spring, that awaken dormant senses after a dreary winter. Extending the diversity of life has been the subtext of the work. The rare and unusual have found a place to thrive and grow. All seems well in paradise when I consider all of this, but as a cloud drifts across the face of the brightest summer sun, thoughts of what will happen here when I die arise more frequently.
The natural world replaces man’s efforts quickly and inexorably. The land’s return to a state of climax vegetation has sustained me when I consider the mistakes and excesses that I have seen. Log trucks now often carry trunks the size of poles whereas 30 years ago they carried 40 inch diameter behemoths. Despite this the woods replace themselves seed by seed and tree by tree. All blacktop and concrete eventually weathers into dust and the cycle of growth continues, as it always has. The real question is not how to ‘save’ my land, but how to save the opportunities for those who come after to experience the awe inspired by the natural world. As Goethe said: “The highest goal that man can achieve is amazement.”
The word awesome has been used so often that it is only another trite sound. Unfortunately, most of us opt for comfort rather than inviting the feeling of awe into our lives. Religion and science, both with their origins rooted in and encouraged by direct contact with the natural world, have also for the most part slipped into states of comfort. The intensified experience offered, no demanded, by 40 days in the wilderness cannot be duplicated by listening to a sermon or singing a hymn. The clang of lightning, rumble of thunder, and scent of ozone can awaken one to the present moment in a shivering state of wonder. No virtual experience in a laboratory can match the flash of the scarlet tanager in oak leaves the size of squirrel’s ears.
Religion literally means to reconnect, I assume with the ultimate mystery. Where better to do this than in the natural world, the rest of this wonder that we can comprehend rather than imagine. Heaven is experiencing oneself as part of this magnificent web of being, and hell is the alienation from it.
Science has become dogmatic, constantly hoping that next discovery that will make the world seem clear and coherent. Because nothing has yet accomplished this, and each new revelation seems to open many new doors to wonders we have not even contemplated. We should step back, or maybe into, a well deserved state of awe, and simply be still for awhile. Chasing an ever receding ‘ultimate’ leaves a feeling of breathless desperation. Genuine excitement is found more easily by opening to the miraculous natural world that is constantly availing itself to anyone who pays attention to it.
Proponents of religion and science are seeking answers to unanswerable questions. Such an activity reflects an arrogance that makes any search counterproductive. In Letters to a Young Poet Rilke says:
“…have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms, like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”
A life lived in this way is reward in itself – a steady unfurling of life’s inevitable mysteries, joys, and struggles By ignoring what is constantly around us in the quixotic quest to discover the ultimate answer (or having it handed to us by others) we ignore the actual components and experiences that constitute our lives. By opening to the whisperings, songs, and screams of the natural world, we find our place within it. We become something larger than the questioning, self-reflective being that separates ourselves from the biosphere through arrogant aspirations. We instead, find our connections to all of life, and can thereby expand and revel in our wider awareness for no other sake than to follow the natural order of things. As Lao Tse says, “The way to do is to be.”
If we open ourselves to the awesome through a life lived by honing our senses and taking our place in the natural world, we will be blessed with moments of epiphany:
Ferns uncurl as trilliums glow freshly above green leaves. The fluted call of the wood thrush.
Sun glints off the frozen waterfall. A tower of sculpted light.
Suddenly in the glow of maple fire, the eyes of the doe seize your heart.
Soaring in the thermals, the hawk’s red tail against the bluest sky.
Songs of the Land
By the laws of man I have owned this land for 22 years,
striving to make it sing once again:
rolling the barbed wire, pulling the multiflora rose,
thorns stabbing, coaxing the wildflowers to return -
trillium, squirrel corn, phlox, smooth and blue.
Autumn’s last surge before turning to sleep
finds me on the yellow carpeted paths,
sunbeams plucking the red maple grace notes.
Like the dogs, circling down against a hollow beech.
Eyelids flutter; the earth gently pulls,
and resonating through this 80 foot sound box
comes the heartbeats of robins following their southern pull.
It is an old song, one that has always been there,
waiting to be heard by those who season by season
have dropped the arrogance of imagined control and
simply come to this place to be here.
The music is everywhere:
leaf drop
branch squeak
chipmunk dash
cricket hummmmm
Fern song – pale fronds bowing to remember the ooze
that birthed them and welcomed them back.
Tree song – stretching skyward while webs of roots
cradle the ground, holding it safe.
Bird song – jewels of the air, the fragility of matter,
the lightness of being.
And the sudden cold chill that teases my nose to awaken
to the musky sweet scent of decay,
prelude to that oldest song of all.
Alan Cohen has lived in the Hocking Hills for more than 30 years.
Sun sparkles snow to oblivion.
Creamy clouds split the turquoise sky.
The ancient sandstone delta has matured over the last 325 million years into a vast sweep of forest. On this late November day its bones replace the recent tapestry of autumn brilliance, gray sentinels holding the earth as the earth holds them. It would not be difficult to walk into these woods and get lost, literally if you do not pay attention, and figuratively if you do.
The poet David Wagoner uses Native American themes and stories in his work. The poem Lost addresses the question of what to do if you find yourself lost in the forest.
Lost
Stand still.
The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
and you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes.
Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again,
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still.
The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
The key to finding (and knowing) your way depends upon recognizing the forest as a powerful being and paying attention to detail. Each tree, each branch, each leaf must be acknowledged in order to establish a proper relationship with the whole.
I feel lost at this time too. I have matured from a passionate planter of six inch seedlings with all the time in the world to watch them grow, into a man at midlife, still passionate, but knowing that time is finite. I was lucky to find my literal place in the world – a ninety acre ridgetop of woods and fields in which to sink my roots. Years of hard work have resulted in the creation of many gardens, ponds, and drifts of sparkling wildflowers and bulbs every spring, that awaken dormant senses after a dreary winter. Extending the diversity of life has been the subtext of the work. The rare and unusual have found a place to thrive and grow. All seems well in paradise when I consider all of this, but as a cloud drifts across the face of the brightest summer sun, thoughts of what will happen here when I die arise more frequently.
The natural world replaces man’s efforts quickly and inexorably. The land’s return to a state of climax vegetation has sustained me when I consider the mistakes and excesses that I have seen. Log trucks now often carry trunks the size of poles whereas 30 years ago they carried 40 inch diameter behemoths. Despite this the woods replace themselves seed by seed and tree by tree. All blacktop and concrete eventually weathers into dust and the cycle of growth continues, as it always has. The real question is not how to ‘save’ my land, but how to save the opportunities for those who come after to experience the awe inspired by the natural world. As Goethe said: “The highest goal that man can achieve is amazement.”
The word awesome has been used so often that it is only another trite sound. Unfortunately, most of us opt for comfort rather than inviting the feeling of awe into our lives. Religion and science, both with their origins rooted in and encouraged by direct contact with the natural world, have also for the most part slipped into states of comfort. The intensified experience offered, no demanded, by 40 days in the wilderness cannot be duplicated by listening to a sermon or singing a hymn. The clang of lightning, rumble of thunder, and scent of ozone can awaken one to the present moment in a shivering state of wonder. No virtual experience in a laboratory can match the flash of the scarlet tanager in oak leaves the size of squirrel’s ears.
Religion literally means to reconnect, I assume with the ultimate mystery. Where better to do this than in the natural world, the rest of this wonder that we can comprehend rather than imagine. Heaven is experiencing oneself as part of this magnificent web of being, and hell is the alienation from it.
Science has become dogmatic, constantly hoping that next discovery that will make the world seem clear and coherent. Because nothing has yet accomplished this, and each new revelation seems to open many new doors to wonders we have not even contemplated. We should step back, or maybe into, a well deserved state of awe, and simply be still for awhile. Chasing an ever receding ‘ultimate’ leaves a feeling of breathless desperation. Genuine excitement is found more easily by opening to the miraculous natural world that is constantly availing itself to anyone who pays attention to it.
Proponents of religion and science are seeking answers to unanswerable questions. Such an activity reflects an arrogance that makes any search counterproductive. In Letters to a Young Poet Rilke says:
“…have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms, like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”
A life lived in this way is reward in itself – a steady unfurling of life’s inevitable mysteries, joys, and struggles By ignoring what is constantly around us in the quixotic quest to discover the ultimate answer (or having it handed to us by others) we ignore the actual components and experiences that constitute our lives. By opening to the whisperings, songs, and screams of the natural world, we find our place within it. We become something larger than the questioning, self-reflective being that separates ourselves from the biosphere through arrogant aspirations. We instead, find our connections to all of life, and can thereby expand and revel in our wider awareness for no other sake than to follow the natural order of things. As Lao Tse says, “The way to do is to be.”
If we open ourselves to the awesome through a life lived by honing our senses and taking our place in the natural world, we will be blessed with moments of epiphany:
Ferns uncurl as trilliums glow freshly above green leaves. The fluted call of the wood thrush.
Sun glints off the frozen waterfall. A tower of sculpted light.
Suddenly in the glow of maple fire, the eyes of the doe seize your heart.
Soaring in the thermals, the hawk’s red tail against the bluest sky.
Songs of the Land
By the laws of man I have owned this land for 22 years,
striving to make it sing once again:
rolling the barbed wire, pulling the multiflora rose,
thorns stabbing, coaxing the wildflowers to return -
trillium, squirrel corn, phlox, smooth and blue.
Autumn’s last surge before turning to sleep
finds me on the yellow carpeted paths,
sunbeams plucking the red maple grace notes.
Like the dogs, circling down against a hollow beech.
Eyelids flutter; the earth gently pulls,
and resonating through this 80 foot sound box
comes the heartbeats of robins following their southern pull.
It is an old song, one that has always been there,
waiting to be heard by those who season by season
have dropped the arrogance of imagined control and
simply come to this place to be here.
The music is everywhere:
leaf drop
branch squeak
chipmunk dash
cricket hummmmm
Fern song – pale fronds bowing to remember the ooze
that birthed them and welcomed them back.
Tree song – stretching skyward while webs of roots
cradle the ground, holding it safe.
Bird song – jewels of the air, the fragility of matter,
the lightness of being.
And the sudden cold chill that teases my nose to awaken
to the musky sweet scent of decay,
prelude to that oldest song of all.
Alan Cohen has lived in the Hocking Hills for more than 30 years.
Paul Knoop
The Majestic Hocking Hills
There are places on this living planet that have special appeal because of their unique beauty, diverse life forms and aura of mystery. Such a place is the Hocking Hills. Here in this relatively small scenic region, past geologic events have dictated a landscape that is beautifully rugged and yet fragile. During the early and middle Mississippian Geologic Period, about 330 million years ago, the area now comprising the Hocking Hills was covered by a shallow sea. A large river (similar to today’s Mississippi) flowing out of a mountain range in the southeastern United States carried massive amounts of sediment – silt, sand, clay and quartzite – into the shallow sea, building a delta where Hocking County is now located. Immense periods of time passed, the land was uplifted, the shallow sea retreated and the sandy delta, once under the sea, was now dry land exposed to erosion. As the delta became dry land the once loose sand grains cemented together to become sandstone.
Over many millions of years the process of erosion has carried away mountainous amounts of rock that once made up the surface area of Hocking County. It has been primarily the process of erosion that sculpted the beautiful Hocking Hills. Flowing streams have cut into the sandy oceanic delta uncovering the Black Hand Sandstone, the primary rock layer exposed in the Hocking Hills region today.
In numerous places in Hocking County one can see sandstone rocks whose upper surfaces are covered with ripple marks, exactly like those found on sandy sea bottoms today. It is exciting to find these ancient signature marks; proof positive of a once great Ohio ocean.
During more recent times (the past two million years) great continental glaciers advanced within six miles of the Hocking Hills region. Even though the ice did no direct sculpturing of the hills the proximity of the ice mass produced massive amounts of erosive melt water which flowed down local streams. By the time of human arrival, a few thousand years ago, the Hocking Hills were gracefully covered by oak-hickory, beech-maple and hemlock-birch forest. These wooded hills harbor delicate ferns, mosses and abundant wildflowers. A dozen or more species of native Ohio orchids are recorded for the county including the small whorled pogonia, the only Ohio location for this plant. Rare birds – hermit thrush, magnolia and Canada warblers and blue-headed vireos – nest in the cool hemlock ravines. Higher in the trees are cerulean and black-throated green warblers. An alert visitor might also hear the heart stopping cry of the pileated woodpecker or the deep hoot of a barred owl. The clear streams are home to marbled, spring and red salamanders – little known, colorful creatures that live only in cool, moist places. During recent decades coyotes and black bears have entered the hills creating excitement among local residents.
The above mentioned geological and biological treasures belong to all of us and their continued existence depends upon good stewardship of the land. It should be noted that the Hocking Hills are no less a work of art than is the Grand Canyon, Yosemite or the Everglades. Beauty and biological diversity are long in the making and yet can be so easily destroyed.
When we consider what it took to create this landscape, we must also consider what we can do to insure that future generations will also be able to marvel at its beauty.
This article is by Paul Knoop, now a resident of Hocking County. Paul served as Director and Education Coordinator of The Aullwood Audubon Center near Dayton, Ohio for 35 years.
The Majestic Hocking Hills
There are places on this living planet that have special appeal because of their unique beauty, diverse life forms and aura of mystery. Such a place is the Hocking Hills. Here in this relatively small scenic region, past geologic events have dictated a landscape that is beautifully rugged and yet fragile. During the early and middle Mississippian Geologic Period, about 330 million years ago, the area now comprising the Hocking Hills was covered by a shallow sea. A large river (similar to today’s Mississippi) flowing out of a mountain range in the southeastern United States carried massive amounts of sediment – silt, sand, clay and quartzite – into the shallow sea, building a delta where Hocking County is now located. Immense periods of time passed, the land was uplifted, the shallow sea retreated and the sandy delta, once under the sea, was now dry land exposed to erosion. As the delta became dry land the once loose sand grains cemented together to become sandstone.
Over many millions of years the process of erosion has carried away mountainous amounts of rock that once made up the surface area of Hocking County. It has been primarily the process of erosion that sculpted the beautiful Hocking Hills. Flowing streams have cut into the sandy oceanic delta uncovering the Black Hand Sandstone, the primary rock layer exposed in the Hocking Hills region today.
In numerous places in Hocking County one can see sandstone rocks whose upper surfaces are covered with ripple marks, exactly like those found on sandy sea bottoms today. It is exciting to find these ancient signature marks; proof positive of a once great Ohio ocean.
During more recent times (the past two million years) great continental glaciers advanced within six miles of the Hocking Hills region. Even though the ice did no direct sculpturing of the hills the proximity of the ice mass produced massive amounts of erosive melt water which flowed down local streams. By the time of human arrival, a few thousand years ago, the Hocking Hills were gracefully covered by oak-hickory, beech-maple and hemlock-birch forest. These wooded hills harbor delicate ferns, mosses and abundant wildflowers. A dozen or more species of native Ohio orchids are recorded for the county including the small whorled pogonia, the only Ohio location for this plant. Rare birds – hermit thrush, magnolia and Canada warblers and blue-headed vireos – nest in the cool hemlock ravines. Higher in the trees are cerulean and black-throated green warblers. An alert visitor might also hear the heart stopping cry of the pileated woodpecker or the deep hoot of a barred owl. The clear streams are home to marbled, spring and red salamanders – little known, colorful creatures that live only in cool, moist places. During recent decades coyotes and black bears have entered the hills creating excitement among local residents.
The above mentioned geological and biological treasures belong to all of us and their continued existence depends upon good stewardship of the land. It should be noted that the Hocking Hills are no less a work of art than is the Grand Canyon, Yosemite or the Everglades. Beauty and biological diversity are long in the making and yet can be so easily destroyed.
When we consider what it took to create this landscape, we must also consider what we can do to insure that future generations will also be able to marvel at its beauty.
This article is by Paul Knoop, now a resident of Hocking County. Paul served as Director and Education Coordinator of The Aullwood Audubon Center near Dayton, Ohio for 35 years.
Elbert Mercer
Elbert Mercer, (1909-2005) at the age on 94, created beauty all of his life. The former glass designer found a way to continue his work in perpetuity.
El, as he liked to be called, placed a conservation easement on his 120 acre farm that straddles Hocking and Fairfield counties. With the assistance of a recently formed not for profit organization called the Hocking Hills Land Trust, Mercer was able to draw up this legal instrument insuring that his efforts will persist.
Elbert was born in Ross County and eventually wound up at art school in Columbus. The hard times of the depression forced him to drop out before graduation to seek employment to support his new family. After a stint as a jewelry designer, El found work in the glass industry. He worked in Columbus, Toledo, and New York City before coming to Anchor Hocking in Lancaster where he designed glassware and advertising for many years.
El and his wife, Leona’s, love of the land led to their finding a remote site in the Hocking Hills to make a home. El built a showplace house, and planted thousands of pines and hardwoods, as well as a 300 tree peach orchard. While campaigning to keep an old road that crossed his land from being reopened, he stumbled upon another 120 acre farm, rich with native rhododendrons and wild orchids, and many outcrops of Black Hand sandstone. On a warm spring day, he and Leona sat on a moss-covered log in a hollow listening to the sweet sound of the migrating songbirds. They decided to sell their farm and move to this new one. The result is a house that blends into the landscape, and numerous plantings that enhance the land’s natural beauty rather than compete with it.
El had the shell of the house erected by a contractor and finished the house with the help of his wife. The result is a home that blends into the landscape, surrounded by numerous plantings that enhance the land’s natural beauty. It is filled with antiques, a large collection of glass from his career, and many of his own paintings. It is more a reflection of his life than a house. When asked a few years ago by a visitor about who does the maintenance and upkeep on the farm, El replied, “Some crazy guy does it, and he works for free to boot.” He was of course talking about himself.
He was delighted that he found a way to keep his dreams alive beyond his own life. The conservation easement allows the land to be sold or passed along to heirs, but with his protective provisions remaining in place. Elbert Mercer used his life in the quest of beauty. His efforts have made one small part of the world sing.
Article by Alan Cohen
Elbert Mercer, (1909-2005) at the age on 94, created beauty all of his life. The former glass designer found a way to continue his work in perpetuity.
El, as he liked to be called, placed a conservation easement on his 120 acre farm that straddles Hocking and Fairfield counties. With the assistance of a recently formed not for profit organization called the Hocking Hills Land Trust, Mercer was able to draw up this legal instrument insuring that his efforts will persist.
Elbert was born in Ross County and eventually wound up at art school in Columbus. The hard times of the depression forced him to drop out before graduation to seek employment to support his new family. After a stint as a jewelry designer, El found work in the glass industry. He worked in Columbus, Toledo, and New York City before coming to Anchor Hocking in Lancaster where he designed glassware and advertising for many years.
El and his wife, Leona’s, love of the land led to their finding a remote site in the Hocking Hills to make a home. El built a showplace house, and planted thousands of pines and hardwoods, as well as a 300 tree peach orchard. While campaigning to keep an old road that crossed his land from being reopened, he stumbled upon another 120 acre farm, rich with native rhododendrons and wild orchids, and many outcrops of Black Hand sandstone. On a warm spring day, he and Leona sat on a moss-covered log in a hollow listening to the sweet sound of the migrating songbirds. They decided to sell their farm and move to this new one. The result is a house that blends into the landscape, and numerous plantings that enhance the land’s natural beauty rather than compete with it.
El had the shell of the house erected by a contractor and finished the house with the help of his wife. The result is a home that blends into the landscape, surrounded by numerous plantings that enhance the land’s natural beauty. It is filled with antiques, a large collection of glass from his career, and many of his own paintings. It is more a reflection of his life than a house. When asked a few years ago by a visitor about who does the maintenance and upkeep on the farm, El replied, “Some crazy guy does it, and he works for free to boot.” He was of course talking about himself.
He was delighted that he found a way to keep his dreams alive beyond his own life. The conservation easement allows the land to be sold or passed along to heirs, but with his protective provisions remaining in place. Elbert Mercer used his life in the quest of beauty. His efforts have made one small part of the world sing.
Article by Alan Cohen
Larry R. Menchhofer
Living and working in Hocking County for the past 30 years has provided me with the opportunity to know, to love, and to share this magnificent area. I moved here for two reasons: the natural beauty and peacefulness of the Hocking Hills and the quality and friendliness of the people who live here. Both have exceeded my fondest wishes. As a local Realtor specializing exclusively in country property, I have been able to help many people own land that allows them to enjoy this area and become a part of the community.
A major goal of my real estate business has always been to help preserve the integrity of the Hocking Hills. Unfortunately as of late, impending pressures have multiplied that threaten the peaceful beauty of our county. Many local and regional “developers” are purchasing our farms and wooded tracts and “chopping” them into less than desirable neighborhoods. The soon to be completed US Route 33 bypass brings with it further threats of unchecked development and commercialization. As a result, the slower pace and serenity of our country side is being seriously threatened. Ironically, the rush to relocate in the scenic Hocking Hills compromises the very reasons that attracts families here.
To protect the quality of life in the Hocking Hills should be a major priority for all landowners. Luckily there is now a way to protect our land for ourselves, our children, grandchildren, and all future residents. By putting a conservation easement on one’s acreage, the land will be protected in perpetuity.
A conservation easement is simply a legal instrument to limit future development on a piece of land, and insure that it will remain in a natural state for future generations. The beauty we so love will thus be preserved for others. Each conservation easement can be custom designed for the landowners. The owners usually decide to let forests grow, prevent mining or stripping of the land, and limit the number of structures that can be built on a property. The land can still be sold or bequeathed, but all restrictions in the initial easement must be honored by subsequent landholders. The small cost to do this can be off set by various tax benefits, and will enable the Hocking Hills Land Trust, a local land trust, to annually inspect the land to see that the original owner’s wishes are respected. If not, the Alliance will institute legal action to make sure the land is protected. A conservation easement is a legacy of preservation and a benefit to neighboring landowners.
In other areas of the United States where land trusts have become active, there is initially a drop in the property value of those installing conservation easements. If landowners desire to protect their property from development, they cannot then expect to sell their land to the developers willing to pay the highest prices. However, it has been seen repeatedly, that once a critical mass of landowners in an area obtain easements, land values rise. A potential buyer who knows that surrounding property will not become a trailer park or industrial zone will pay for such peace of mind. The question facing us can be stated in this way: Is it worthwhile for me to protect my land for myself, my descendants, and my neighbors for a temporary loss of property value that will be regained in time? This question is moot if the landowner plans to remain on the property for life, as many of us who have come to love this land do.
Any property owner in our area should contact the Hocking Hills Land Trust for further information. The scenic views, diversity of plants and wildlife, and quiet times in the country will all be enhanced by the security of knowing that things can stay this way into the future.
Living and working in Hocking County for the past 30 years has provided me with the opportunity to know, to love, and to share this magnificent area. I moved here for two reasons: the natural beauty and peacefulness of the Hocking Hills and the quality and friendliness of the people who live here. Both have exceeded my fondest wishes. As a local Realtor specializing exclusively in country property, I have been able to help many people own land that allows them to enjoy this area and become a part of the community.
A major goal of my real estate business has always been to help preserve the integrity of the Hocking Hills. Unfortunately as of late, impending pressures have multiplied that threaten the peaceful beauty of our county. Many local and regional “developers” are purchasing our farms and wooded tracts and “chopping” them into less than desirable neighborhoods. The soon to be completed US Route 33 bypass brings with it further threats of unchecked development and commercialization. As a result, the slower pace and serenity of our country side is being seriously threatened. Ironically, the rush to relocate in the scenic Hocking Hills compromises the very reasons that attracts families here.
To protect the quality of life in the Hocking Hills should be a major priority for all landowners. Luckily there is now a way to protect our land for ourselves, our children, grandchildren, and all future residents. By putting a conservation easement on one’s acreage, the land will be protected in perpetuity.
A conservation easement is simply a legal instrument to limit future development on a piece of land, and insure that it will remain in a natural state for future generations. The beauty we so love will thus be preserved for others. Each conservation easement can be custom designed for the landowners. The owners usually decide to let forests grow, prevent mining or stripping of the land, and limit the number of structures that can be built on a property. The land can still be sold or bequeathed, but all restrictions in the initial easement must be honored by subsequent landholders. The small cost to do this can be off set by various tax benefits, and will enable the Hocking Hills Land Trust, a local land trust, to annually inspect the land to see that the original owner’s wishes are respected. If not, the Alliance will institute legal action to make sure the land is protected. A conservation easement is a legacy of preservation and a benefit to neighboring landowners.
In other areas of the United States where land trusts have become active, there is initially a drop in the property value of those installing conservation easements. If landowners desire to protect their property from development, they cannot then expect to sell their land to the developers willing to pay the highest prices. However, it has been seen repeatedly, that once a critical mass of landowners in an area obtain easements, land values rise. A potential buyer who knows that surrounding property will not become a trailer park or industrial zone will pay for such peace of mind. The question facing us can be stated in this way: Is it worthwhile for me to protect my land for myself, my descendants, and my neighbors for a temporary loss of property value that will be regained in time? This question is moot if the landowner plans to remain on the property for life, as many of us who have come to love this land do.
Any property owner in our area should contact the Hocking Hills Land Trust for further information. The scenic views, diversity of plants and wildlife, and quiet times in the country will all be enhanced by the security of knowing that things can stay this way into the future.
