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Go DeeperThe Nature Conservancy in Tennessee A Big Deal to Connect the Cumberlands Subscribe to Nature Conservancy Magazine |
The Tennessee Project
The Cumberland Plateau is a 450-mile-long wedge of primordial Tennessee that meanders from the Kentucky and West Virginia borders in the north to the tip of Alabama. In 1817, Davy Crockett hung his coonskin cap here before pushing farther west. The caves, cliffs and waterfalls that wowed him still remain.
The plateau harbors biodiversity on a global scale. It’s North America’s answer to tropical rainforests. There are 175 types of hardwood trees, hundreds of animal and bird species — including many considered at-risk (the Indiana bat and cerulean warbler being especially beleaguered) — more than 200 varieties of fish and rumors of at least one camera-shy Bigfoot.
The Conservancy rounded up most of those statistics in 2005 when the state of Tennessee, facing that impending compliance deadline, asked for help in formulating its wildlife action plan. Thanks in part to the Duke foundation grant, Conservancy employees sifted through 150 years of dusty data on habitat conditions and some 21,000 recorded wildlife sightings. Taking a cue from Florida’s Closing the Gaps report, the Conservancy filtered those numbers through GIS mapping software. Soon, Tennessee had its own set of richly detailed, brightly colored maps.
About that same time, two timber companies active on the plateau decided to unload 230,000 acres of forest. A once-in-a-lifetime conservation opportunity loomed.
“I have a saying that down here it has to be the right people and the right place and the right time or else whatever you want to do isn’t gonna happen,” says Davis.
Suddenly, the stars seemed to be lining up over the Cumberland Plateau.
The Conservancy launched its biggest-ever conservation campaign in Tennessee. Nothing similar had been attempted in the state since Smoky Mountain National Park was cobbled together in the 1930s.
The plateau was one of the jewels cited in Tennessee’s just-completed state wildlife action plan. Without quick intervention, the best of those 230,000 acres coming on the market would be carved up into luxury vacation-home lots. Nearly $100,000 in Duke foundation money covered the costs of research and public polling to determine if a preservation drive was possible. Incredibly, a statewide poll, says the Conservancy’s Andy Tuck, “showed, holy cow, 78 percent of voters supported using public money to save the Cumberlands.”
Davis made the face-to-face pitch to Democratic Gov. Phil Bredesen, who was in the enviable position of having been recently re-elected in a landslide and being further blessed with a budget surplus. Davis had been advised going into his meeting that Bredesen is a cut-to-the-chase politician. When he begins pensively stroking his chin, that’s a sign he’s getting impatient.
Within minutes of being ushered into the governor’s office, Davis saw Bredesen’s hands move to his chin. Uh-oh. Davis scrapped his PowerPoint presentation and pulled out a hard copy of his Cumberland Plateau conservation plan. “Governor,” he said, “let’s just turn to the last page, which is the map. That’s what we want to do.” Shaffer should have been there. That map saved the day.
Bredesen took a close look, then turned to his environmental commissioner and said, “Let’s figure a way to make this happen.”
They did. Last November, Gov. Bredesen announced that 127,854 acres of the Cumberland Plateau would be spared from development. That parcel and 66,000 acres of adjacent public land form one of the most prized stretches of wilderness in the country. The acquisition was made possible by a blending of purchases and land preservation agreements and the granting of sustainable-timber rights in certain sections of the plateau. The Tennessee legislature passed a special appropriation of $82 million, the Conservancy paid $13 million, and two timber companies put up $40 million.
“It was perfect timing of what we think was a partnership made in heaven,” says Jim Fyke, Tennessee’s environmental commissioner. “We think that’s a model for the future.”
At a ceremony held in Knoxville last November to celebrate the Cumberland Plateau transaction, Bredesen turned to Fyke again. Economic times were still flush then, and sealing the deal felt good. So good the governor said, “Bring me another one.”
Mark Shaffer would be in spaghetti-and-meatball heaven if there were 49 more governors like Bredesen and a hundred Cumberland Plateau projects in the works. But that’s not the case. A long, rough road lies ahead for his beloved national conservation system. “I really admire the way he has stayed focused,” says the Conservancy’s Carol Baudler. “There’s a balance of being idealistic and forward thinking on the one hand, and this very practical, patient method on the other.”
So Shaffer soldiers on. Not that his feet don’t get sore. “Every once in a while, I wonder why I try to do this,” Shaffer says. “It’s funny how long something so simple can take.”
Nature picture credits: Photos © Stephen Alvarez (Southern Cumberland Plateau)
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