Meet Reggie Hall

Utility infielder. Jack Russell terrier. Foot soldier. Whatever Reggie Hall’s official job description at The Conservation Fund—for the record, he’s a real estate associate and manager of the Land Trust Loan Program—he moves beyond it. He’s created a national network for young conservation professionals. He’s sunk his teeth into negotiations from Massachusetts to Illinois. And he’s facilitated the conservation of some 100,000 acres of land—and counting.

Growing up on New Hampshire’s Sea Coast, Hall, now 33, planned to become a marine biologist. “The beach, the tide pools, the lobsters, the shells, were literally my backyard,” he says. “I lived and breathed the ocean.” But during freshman year at Williams College, an unfortunate score on a Biology 101 midterm—something he calls a “blessing in disguise”—prompted Hall to try geology. It stuck. “In geology, you read about something, and then you went out there to see it in the landscape—and that resonated with me,” he says.

So did the power of personality. Hall’s favorite professor was a retired environmental lawyer and sheep farmer who frequently showed up to class wearing sweatpants stuffed into muddy Wellies, with a neat Brooks Brothers bowtie complimenting his flannel shirt. He started each class with a reading from what he called the “Book of Henry David,” sharing the insights of Henry David Thoreau.

Hall, at times a ski patroller, bagpiper, squash player and rowing captain, started down a career of conservation. He attended Vermont Law School, learning how tax tools can help people protect their favorite places, while spending vacations exploring the White Mountains and Berkshires. Finally, armed with new knowledge of law and land, Hall headed back outdoors—professionally. He spent five years at local land conservation organizations in Florida and North Carolina, where the impact of his vocation hit home: “You live where you work. If you have a bad day, in the evening you can swing by that family farm that you just helped to protect, and the positive impact you have on your community comes into perspective.”

Today, Hall has traded up to suits, ties and The Conservation Fund—“the major leagues,” as he puts it. He is still in swift pursuit of outdoor adventure. And whether he’s visiting Capitol Hill or biking along the Potomac to work, he sees the dividends of his work almost every time he heads out the door. “I’m being paid to pursue my passion,” he says.