As timber value rises, even trees get stolen

WHITESBURG, Ky. -- The crime scene -- a once-wooded landscape marked by tire tracks and tree stumps -- makes the victim, Verna Potter, feel physically violated.

"It's just like someone cut your heart out," says the 77-year-old Potter, who lost an estimated $50,000 worth of generations-old oak trees, which were taken from her property and sold, without permission, while she was away.

Rogue loggers have long preyed on private properties from coast to coast, taking advantage of the elderly, the absent or -- in Potter's case -- both. And they traditionally had little to fear from law enforcement officials hesitant to pursue criminal charges, instead chalking up most complaints to property disputes. But as timber values rise, so have the stakes for landowners, and the attitude of law enforcement is adjusting accordingly.

"The authorities who have dealt with it as a property matter are starting to look at it as more of a criminal matter," said Joseph Phaneuf, executive director of the Northeastern Loggers' Association. "But it's not happening without a push from the individuals affected."

Some states, such as Mississippi and Virginia, have established specific timber theft laws, making illegal logging on private property a felony punishable by jail time. Other states, including New York, have started timber theft prevention campaigns that warn property owners of common logging scams.

In Kentucky, the problem has resulted in the formation of the Appalachian Roundtable, a nonprofit that joins forestry experts, attorneys, police and victims to alert landowners to scams and pursue criminal charges. The group is drafting legislation to be introduced in the 2008 Kentucky General Assembly to make timber theft a felony punishable by prison time.

"Historically, it's been viewed by local police and the judiciary as a civil complaint," said Keith Cain, president of the Kentucky Sheriffs Association. "But the theft of timber is a criminal issue and should be prosecuted as such."

With the overseas demand for North American hardwoods growing, it's become a more costly issue for private landowners, whose tree farms and woodlands make up 55 percent of U.S. timber production, forestry officials say. The rest comes from lands owned by the state and federal governments, the logging industry and other investors.

While there's no timber theft charge on the books in Kentucky, regular theft charges can still be filed, said Dea Riley, executive director of the Appalachian Roundtable, which is working with more than 50 families who claim they are victims.

Few track tree theft cases. A 2003 Virginia Tech University study estimated landowners lose in excess of $4 million to timber thieves each year in the hardwood-rich Appalachian states.

Domestic prices for hardwoods, such as cherry, walnut and white oak, have increased about 10 percent over the past decade, according to analysts, and the demand overseas, especially in China and southeast Asia, has increased substantially.

A common timber thief is an experienced logger with a small crew, said Jonathan Callore, assistant law enforcement chief of the South Carolina Forestry Commission. South Carolina's tree theft law, which poses hard jail time and stiff penalties, is considered a model.

Tree thieves anticipate questions about property boundaries, and few people have the money to hire a lawyer, pay for a survey or hire an expert to place a value on lost timber.

The thieves usually operate along adjoining property lines and claim to have either owner's permission to log on the property in question, according to the New York Forest Owners Association. If either landowner is absent, a timber thief can spot a group of oaks, chop them down and leave without anyone knowing for weeks.

Caught in the act, a logger may offer money, typically a fraction of actual market value.

"They'll go into the courthouse and find out who has a local address and who has an absentee address, and go and cut on the property," Callore said.

A couple of years ago, Potter decided to move in with her grown children in Ohio with her husband, who is diabetic and blind. She only visits her 25-acre property a few times a year. If it hadn't been for her nephew who lives on adjacent property, she may not have known for months her oaks were gone.

Her nephew confronted a local logger in November after hearing a chain saw. The case is slated for a grand jury next month.

"Thirty-two oak trees that have been there for years," said Potter. "It was my turn to give them to my son and daughter, but you can't replace those."