But What of the Family Farm?

By Carol Corbin, Director of Philanthropy, Inland Northwest Land Conservancy

For the family involved, “This is not a happy story.” I hear the catch in his* throat over the phone. “It’s the least bad outcome we could have had.” But as with many endings, this story presents a new beginning that is full of hope and promise for the Coeur d’Alene Tribe

From the outside, land trust work can sound dry and clinical. Talk of easements, lawyers, development envelopes, and the like doesn’t have the ring of compelling narratives that drive my inner storytelling animal. But for those in the trenches, saving precious land is as fraught with intrigue, joy, heartbreak, and pitfalls as a Thanksgiving dinner with the in-laws. This is one such story.

In the mid-1950s, a nurse, born and raised here in the Inland Northwest, met a dashing young doctor with a traumatic past as a prisoner of war in Indonesia, and a desire to create a haven for his family for generations to come. The two of them married and over the years, built a thriving tree farm an hour from Spokane. Over her lifetime, she planted more than 500,000 trees on the property. In between his work as a physician, he worked the land, finding a peace there that eluded him elsewhere.

“I didn’t go to school on Wednesdays in first grade,” his son tells me. Instead, they went to the family property, then a working cattle ranch. To work. Many years later, this son, now a surgeon, spent countless hours working to maintain the tree farm his parents had built. But the idyllic skin on this story hid a much deeper, fraught future.

When the parents passed away, there were no clear instructions on what they hoped for, for the future of their land. The LLC and reserve fund were set up to protect it from outside forces. But they left the estate to five siblings and their children, each with a different idea of what should happen with the land. “If it weren’t for Chris DeForest,” one of the daughters shared with me, “this land would be split up. It would be developed. He stuck with it, and found a way that it could be saved.”

In 2007, Chris DeForest, now the Conservancy’s Senior Conservationist, met with the parents to talk about ways they could ensure the land would stay intact and undeveloped in perpetuity. Over the next almost two decades, Chris stayed in touch with the family, investigating options for the future of the land, presenting at family meetings, and building trust with those involved. The patriarch passed away in 2013, and the matriarch in 2018, with no clear resolution about the future of their beloved land.

Any action required a majority vote of the trustees. There was a near-even split between those who hoped to see it protected and those hoping to make a profit on its sale. Deliberations began. The family soon reached a painful and acrimonious stalemate. With accusations flying, rifts growing wider, and time and resources growing thin, DeForest unearthed another option he believed might work.

In 2022, Chris convened a first meeting of the family trustees and representatives of the Coeur d’Alene Tribe. The tribe saw a chance for families to reconnect to their roots. The scientists saw great potential to revive runs of native trout and bring new life to stream corridors. The family saw a “Hail Mary” opportunity to satisfy as many of the siblings’ conflicting goals as possible. In the spring of 2023, the family sold the entire place to the tribe. Over 2,000 acres with miles of streams for trout.

“My parents meant for this to be passed down from generation to generation,” their son tells me. “But they also wanted it to stay intact. Undeveloped. This was the only way that could happen.” The tears in his voice speak to his deep connection, earned through years of sweat equity, to a place his father and mother loved. And his pain in what he sees as a permanent rift in his family because of it.

“Well into her 80s,” his sister tells me, “My mom would be out there snowshoeing and cross-country skiing in the winter. She loved it!” And for her dad, “It kept him sane. It was his sanctuary.” In the final agreement with the tribe, the family kept lifelong access to the land. She plans to continue to visit for hikes, Christmas trees, and elderberries. “The sweet syrup on pancakes. Delicious!” she tells me.

This story is not unfamiliar in land trust work. A family spends years building a land legacy for future generations, only to find that “future generations” see that land, and their futures, differently.

When I asked the son what it felt like, now that the land belongs to someone else, he said, “It’s like losing part of your identity.” But hearing firsthand about the Tribe’s experience of being disconnected from their ancestors’ land was eye-opening. “Willingly selling it is so different than having it taken . . .” His voice trails off.

“The Coeur d’Alene Tribe has long viewed our placement upon this, our homeland, as a privilege. With that privilege comes much responsibility that has been at the forefront of our existence since time immemorial. We thank the family for being the caretakers of this land for nearly a century but also understanding that the best way for these responsibilities to be upheld is for large pristine tracts of land such as this to be under the direct supervision of the Tribe and its members.” – Hemene James, Vice Chairman, Coeur d’Alene Tribe

*Specifics about the family and the location of this land are left out to protect their privacy. This land is being used by tribal members whose families once relied on it for their way of life. These families are hunting, gathering, and fishing as they once did for time immemorial. The Conservancy is grateful to have been part, through Chris’s dedication and tenacity, of seeing this huge piece of critical habitat and beautiful forest protected forever.*