By Brian Kevin
From our November 2024 issue
When Philander and Abner Coburn shuffled off this mortal coil, in 1876 and 1885, respectively, the Skowhegan brothers had hundreds of thousands of acres of Maine woodlands to their exquisite 19th-century names. The Coburns were among the state’s first timber barons — and Abner its 30th governor — amassing fortunes by logging huge swaths of Maine’s north woods. And, in a roundabout way, the Coburns also sowed the seeds of the woods’ eventual conservation.
Among their holdings was virtually all of Attean Township, in west-central Somerset County, population 1 during the 1870 Census (the lone resident’s given occupation: “hermit”). Fast-forward nearly a century after Abner’s death, when the Coburn heirs were looking to liquidate their Attean lands but worried about seeing a gated subdivision spring up. If you’ve ever paused at Route 201’s Attean Overlook, just east of Jackman, you’ll understand why: the tableau is as wild and wooly as Maine offers, with 2,745-acre Attean Pond glittering beneath the green whaleback of Attean Mountain, the shaggy peaks of the Boundary Range stretching behind it, and nary a ribbon of pavement.
The Coburn heirs’ predicament gave rise to an ambitious plan: What if some 18,000 acres, more than three-quarters of the township, could be placed under a conservation easement? That is, a legal agreement permanently relinquishing certain rights — to mine, say, or to build houses or roads, or to limit recreation — while designating a third-party trust to enforce the restrictions. That way, future owners could keep sustainably harvesting timber but be prevented from pursuing development that threatens habitat, natural beauty, and public access. The proposal would mean drawing up what was then the country’s largest conservation easement — also, the rare one designed to protect active forest management alongside scenery and recreation.
In 1984, the Forest Society of Maine was incorporated to hold this giant new easement. Today, as the organization marks its 40th anniversary, it’s one of the nation’s largest land trusts, having conserved more than a million acres of Maine woodlands using the same forestry-friendly legal tool pioneered with the Attean parcel. To hear president and CEO Karin Tilberg tell it, FSM arrived on the scene in the nick of time, as the twilight of the gargantuan paper companies was beginning to fragment ownership — and stewardship — of the Maine woods.
“These large-scale easements really came of age after the paper-company sell-off,” Tilberg says. “There was a desire to conserve the land but a lot of opposition to state or federal ownership. Easement opportunities, beginning with Attean, jump-started the thought that maybe we could hold on to forest but still have private ownership and some forest management.”
Tilberg’s new book, Loving the North Woods: 25 Years of Historic Conservation in Maine ($19.95, paperback, Down East Books), documents the dogged and creative efforts to save Maine’s working woods between 1990 and 2015, a period when “big land sales pummeled the consciousness of those who lived in and loved the forests of Maine.” Though the conservation mechanics are sometimes wonky, the book is a heartfelt account, full of fond renderings of the landowners and lawyers, foresters and fishing guides who came together to keep intact the largest forested expanse east of the Rockies. (Also, each chapter ends with a lovely poem.)
Recent FSM projects have included 5,000 acres in Hancock County, placed under easement this summer, surrounding the headwaters of the Narraguagus, Union, and Passadumkeag rivers — all critical habitat for endangered Atlantic salmon. Shoreline development is permanently precluded, limited timber harvesting permitted, and access for hunting, fishing, and Wabanaki cultural uses assured. Roughly 84 percent of FSM’s 51 easements permanently guarantee pedestrian public access.
“As more and more land gets gated or posted,” Tilberg says, “easements are a comfortable tool to make sure these traditions Maine people have cherished will continue — that the forest their grandparents loved to go to will be there for their children too.”
