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With a name like Jack Mills, you might have expected the Federalsburg native to climb easily to the top of the logging industry. This past spring, Mills was named the Maryland-Delaware Logger of the Year. A few short months later, he won the title of Appalachian Regional Logger of the Year from the Forest Resources Association. That now makes him one of six loggers in the country vying for a national recognition.
Despite the increasing competition and accolades, Mills said he still appreciates the Maryland-Delaware award the most, as he was nominated and chosen by his peers. “It means a lot because the foresters voted on it,” Mills said, “and they knew my uncle.”
The uncle he’s talking about is Tom Mitchell. As he was growing up, Mills lived just around the corner from Mitchell, and he now describes Mitchell’s relationship to him as “more of a dad to me than my dad.” They spent “every second” together after Mills’ parents divorced – with most of that time spent in the woods. It was Mitchell who taught Mills how to safely cut down large trees by hand when Mills was just ten years old. He would continue to work for his uncle’s logging operation throughout his school-aged years, learning the physical demands, risks, and techniques involved with the trade.
After graduating from Colonel Richardson High School, Mills attended Frostburg State University for a few years before coming home to work in dirt contracting and excavation. He spent several years working for Preston contractor Jim Hurley and later worked for Gerald Moore in Cambridge. Mitchell eventually offered to financially support Mills through starting his own excavation company.
Then in July of 2014, Mitchell was hit and killed by a drunk driver. His death was a turning point for Mills’ life and career, and Mills ultimately hopes to honor his memory with everything he does.
Shortly after losing his uncle, Mills began shifting from excavating to logging and forestry work. He began purchasing logging equipment, including as many of Mitchell’s old machines as he could get his hands on. Today, Mills estimates he moves between 2.5 and 3 million board feet of timber each year. He handles almost all of the labor besides the hauling himself – and he even does that too when necessary.
Mills explained that his excavation background has given him an unusual advantage in the woods. He can approach a logging job with an understanding of not only which trees should be removed, but what a property can eventually become with a little earth-moving. By combining the two talents, he can turn an overgrown forest into a wildlife sanctuary complete with ponds, clear meadows, and healthy trees, all by his lonesome. He is equally known for his talent with a saw, hand-cutting hardwood trees for anything from grocery store firewood to luxury-grade furniture.
Logging is dangerous work, especially when you’re primarily alone. Mills counts himself lucky to still be able to work since falling off a machine and hitting his head almost five years ago. He also joked that the industry isn’t for those looking to make a quick buck. “You got to love this stuff, because you’re not gonna get rich,” he said.
And love it he does. If by “it”, you mean spending well over the regular amount of daily work hours in the woods all year ‘round perfecting a dying craft.
He is out essentially from sunup to sundown at least five, if not six, days a week. Even so, he still makes room for the things he loves outside logging: his wife and three young daughters, his church at Oak Ridge in Salisbury, playing tuba in the Summerfest community band and alongside his daughters at Colonel football games, and supporting the high school’s marching program by funding new shirts or hauling gear. His wife, Brooke, teaches music at Federalsburg Elementary, and he takes pride in raising their girls – Ellie, Kendall, and Natalie – to be hardworking and kind. “They pay a lot of attention to what I do,” Mills said, “I want to set a good example.”
Mills said that his family is extremely proud of his recent achievements. As for his own feelings on the subject, “It’s pretty cool. It’s humbling,” he said. But he also sees the awards as an opportunity to represent an industry he believes is increasingly misunderstood and, on the Eastern Shore, increasingly rare.
He recognizes that folks don’t always get the right idea about logging, especially when they hear the term “clear cut” to describe leveling a once dense forest. So, he tries to help spread the work about the positive effects of logging on the natural environment to those who may have their doubts. “We’ve kind of got the same general desire…We don’t want to hurt the environment, we’re trying to make it better,” he said, explaining that parts of his job, like clearing out overpopulated trees, actually make a piece of land healthier, “treat it just like agriculture. It’s just like a 50‑year corn crop, it’s all renewable,” he said. It helps, he mentioned, that everything he does is heavily regulated. “There’s good loggers and there’s bad loggers…I want to be a representation of what’s good. It’s my name on all of it,” he said.
With the number of individual loggers dwindling, he said that seeing roughly 200 people attend the Logger of the Year banquet gave him some hope for its future. But what he has enjoyed most about the attention is being able to give some of it back to the man who made him who he is today. “Anytime I can get up there and talk about my uncle, and the work that he was doing, it’s always good,” Mills said. Mills gives all the credit to Mitchell “for teaching me what I know.” After all, boasting doesn’t exactly pair well with Mills’ personality. “I’m proud of what I do,” he said, “but I’d rather just work quietly than brag about it.”
