Randy Kimball, of Kimball & Sons Logging and Trucking, operates a crane in a small woodlot in Mechanic Falls in July 2020. The logging industry in Maine faces challenges from a rapidly aging workforce and low youth engagement. Ben McCanna/Portland Press Herald

A new federal bill would allow 16- and 17-year-olds to work for their parents’ logging businesses in a bid to generate interest in an industry challenged by staffing shortages and an aging workforce.

The bill, sponsored by Maine’s four members of Congress, has crossed desks for over a decade, but it’s never taken off.

This time around, though, there’s a renewed sense of urgency. A large chunk of Maine’s forestry workers are fast approaching retirement. And Maine’s loggers, foresters and elected officials believe that starting loggers at a younger age could be the antidote to an uncertain future.

“Having those businesses intact because the children of the owners feel like they have a pathway forward, they’ve been trained at a younger age, they understand the business at a younger age and they’re capable of taking it over, is so important,” said Dana Doran, executive director of the Professional Logging Contractors of the Northeast. “It will make a big difference about whether or not those logging businesses transcend time.”

In sustaining one of the state’s most important heritage industries, elected officials believe this law would help sustain Maine’s identity, too.

“As the most forested state in the nation, the logging industry has long been key to generations of rural Maine families,” U.S. Rep. Chellie Pingree, D-1st District, said in a joint statement. “We must allow young people across Maine to safely learn the craft from their family members as they prepare for good paying jobs in the forest products industry.”

THE RIGHT TO CHOP

Under current laws, the logging industry is considered too hazardous for minors to work in. The bill would amend the U.S. Fair Labor Standards Act to allow minors who are at least 16 years old to join that workforce. There’s one requirement to do so: They must be working for a business owned by one of their parents. And it would still bar teens from using the most dangerous logging equipment, such as chainsaws.

The proposal isn’t unprecedented. Sixteen-year-olds have been allowed to operate agricultural machinery while working on their parents’ farms since the law was first passed in 1938.

“We want to be on a level playing field with farmers in that way of recruiting and retaining the younger generation,” said Thomas Douglass, the owner of Thomas Logging and Forestry in Guilford and a father of two young sons.

From an outsider’s perspective, arming teenagers with equipment with the power to take down trees may seem too extreme.

But advancements in logging machinery have skyrocketed in the last 25 years. Loggers previously relied on conventional equipment like handheld chainsaws — and a limited level of protection such as helmets and safety chaps.

Now, around 95% of the wood harvested in Maine is done with mechanized equipment, Doran said.

Instead of cutting down trees by hand, there is now equipment for each step of the process. Fellers and bunchers rapidly cut down and gather multiple logs at once; skidders remove those trees from the forest. Doran said it takes just five minutes for this equipment to harvest the same amount of wood it would take someone with a chainsaw to do in an entire day.

And that work is all done inside a bulletproof cab that is safe against falling trees, tipping over and the elements.

“It’s almost a night and day of safety,” Doran said. “It’s essentially safer than driving a car down the highway.”

With these safety mechanisms in place — and the added protection of parents having to oversee their own children — Doran and Douglass both have full confidence that this work can be safe for teenagers.

There is one downside to all these advancements, though: The higher efficiency of the machinery has reduced the number of people needed to harvest the same amount wood. That, Doran said, has led to fewer training programs in the state and, in turn, lower efforts to recruit.

THE ANXIETY OF CONTINUING TO LOG ON

Business owners are united in a fear that the future of Maine’s forestry industry is bleak.

Around 30% to 40% of Maine’s logging workers will reach retirement age within 10 years, according to the state’s 2024 Forest Opportunity Roadmap, a collaborative report led by industry members, government entities and educational institutions.

Douglass said that within a decade, he will lose most of his staff — many of whom have been with the business since his grandfather ran it. That’s in part because Maine’s current systems for youth recruitment and training are weak. There used to be 20 forestry programs at the state’s technical education centers, according to Doran. Now, there are just five. And Doran says that even the few programs that remain have their limitations.

Douglass already struggles to find workers. He owns enough equipment for three operations at once. But he is at least three people short — a scarcity that has led him to put one set of machinery up for sale.

Douglass admits his standards are high. He has been willing to train younger workers, but he hasn’t yet found lasting ones that have been a good fit for his company — and the industry at large. But he believes those extra two years of training could make a world of difference. For one, it will substantially increase the level of expertise workers have when it comes time to enter the industry as adults.

And at a very formative time in their lives, Doran believes, teenagers who have an earlier opportunity become more interested and passionate about the work. Looking back on his own time in high school, Douglass suspects more of his peers would have pursued logging had they been able to get experience in the field earlier on.

“I would like my children to be able to love what they do, and if they don’t love it, I wouldn’t want them to do it. But they won’t know until they can get their hands on the work, walking around with me in the woods, plowing with me in the pickup,” he said. “If they had the opportunity to start pulling joysticks and running machines and seeing the results, they very well may fall in love and never want to do anything else, but they don’t have that opportunity to figure it out.”

Over two-thirds of Douglass’ anxiety is fueled by concerns over staffing, the future of his business and the sustainability of a heritage industry that has been passed down through multiple generations of his family.

One of his employees is 76. Another has been with Douglass’ business for 38 years — longer than a 35-year-old Douglass has been alive. In 10 years, well past their time, these workers will likely be clocking out for the last time. At this point, Douglass is already preparing for the possibility that he might become a one-man band.

But in a decade, Douglass would be able to add another member to his staff: his oldest son Trafton, who is currently 6.

Douglass’ anxiety won’t instantly vanish with a swipe of the presidential pen signing the bill into law. But it has renewed a long-gone sense of hope: that he can keep the legacy of his grandfather’s business alive.

Maine’s congressional delegation has a big task ahead, though. They now need to convince Congress that it’s finally worth their time.