Feral housing is a relatively new term derived from the world of urban decay. Feral houses are abandoned homesteads, overrun by weeds, shrubs, and vines. In some places-such as inner city Detroit where the term was coined-feral houses are often used by the homeless, gang members, illegal drug users, and abandoned pets.
Now, the term is being applied to what appears to be an increasing number of abandoned structures right here in postcard Vermont. You can see these neglected homesteads in Burlington and Rutland, even in touristy Woodstock. Elsewhere, quasi-rural places such as Ferrisburgh and Bristol sport a few feral houses and farms of their own.
In Vermont, abandoned houses and farms have been blamed on everything from high taxes and unsettled estates to the current recession and Acts 60/68. In the case of the dairy business, the continued decline in family farming has resulted in a number of abandoned farms across the state.
Let's look at an unlikely place for feral housing: Woodstock. This gentrified community, which sports sidewalk dining, art shops, and ersatz sheep grazing on a hillside, has been cited in the news recently as a place where affluence and abandoned buildings manage to coexist, though maybe not so peacefully.
In a recent Vermont Standard commentary,
See HOUSING, page 5
From page 1
titled "Vermont in Decline", writer P.G. Behr described Woodstock's odd mix of community wealth coupled with the slow creep of feral housing:
"The East End (of Woodstock) is a disgrace. Instead of a thriving, manicured area, one arrives from the east to see weedy, overgrown spaces and shabby, abandoned buildings. The area should be redeveloped, and the town/village has the means to do so, but no incentive. Since Acts 60/68 came into being, Vermont towns do not benefit from expanding their tax bases," writes Behr. "By creating higher values for property within their boundaries, Vermont's towns generate more tax revenues for the state-virtually no benefits flow to the towns... Vermont's landowners have seen huge increases in real estate taxes. Equally huge increases have taken place in education spending, without any improvement in outcomes, while the student population has decreased and the teacher population has increased. The smartest high school graduates leave the state, usually for good."
Passed in 1997, Act 60 states that "the property tax rate in each town is adjusted by the common level of appraisal (CLA) for that town's school district. The CLA helps to equalize how much towns pay, essentially by adjusting the appraised value of a house by looking at recent sale prices in town in comparison to the appraised values. If the appraised values are below the sale prices, the CLA raises the tax rate, and if the prices are below the appraised values, the CLA lowers the tax rate. This is done so that properties that have not been reappraised in several years are not able to pay lower taxes than a similarly valued home that was more recently reappraised."
In the case of Act 68, Vermont property is divided into four classes for purposes of school taxation: 1. Residential property rate, 2. Housesite income-based rate, 3. Housesite assessment reduction, and 4. Nonresidential property rate.
Without delving into the arcane details of both Acts 60 and 68, one can easily argue that there are lots of "negative incentives" that would result in some homeowners actually running down their properties to reduce their annual tax bills. A lower house value means lower taxes. But to say that all feral houses in Vermont are the results of Acts 60/68, as Behr suggests in his commentary, is not totally accurate.
In some cases, perhaps, out-of-state or even in-state individuals may be wrestling with the fate of a family homestead or they might be delaying a decision about what to do with a particular property for personal reasons-should the family sell the place or keep it for later family use, such as retirement home. Still, there is some logic in going feral: why improve your property if it's only going to be hit up for higher taxes? At some point, pride of homeownership could give way to simple economic reality.
No matter who or what's at fault relating to Vermont's feral houses, these abandoned structures must eventually drag down surrounding property values. And wouldn't lowered property values eventually result in fewer taxes collected by a community? So why does upscale Woodstock tolerate its East End eyesore? Apparently, there's no real interest in expanding the tax base as long as property values elsewhere in town can continue to be jacked up. (But for how long before this house of cards falls?)
It certainly isn't in a community's long-term interest to keep feral houses around-they are eyesores and inevitably attract mischief and bad press. And for hardworking, taxpaying neighbors living next door to feral houses, well, it's sure no pleasure living next to an eyesore.
So, why aren't the officials of Vermont towns affected by feral housing doing something about this issue? Why aren't they redeveloping blighted properties? Maybe commentator Behr is correct: There's no incentive. Why fix up feral houses when the town gets nothing out it?
Omnes relinquite spes, o vos intrantes.