Horicon Marsh is a Wisconsin treasure that’s worth a visit
Massive cattail marsh provides peaceful refuge for birds, people
If you’re not a hunter or birder, it’s easy to overlook Horicon Marsh. ❚ Marshes, after all, aren’t the sexiest of outdoor attractions. The expansive wetlands are difficult to travel through, and their avian inhabitants are elusive. There are no dramatic rock formations or roaring waterfalls for that Instagram selfie. The marsh exists more to protect its natural inhabitants than entertain human ones. ❚ But overlooking this 32,000-acre marsh, the country’s largest freshwater cattail marsh, would be overlooking a natural treasure, with quaint nearby towns offering restaurants and lodging for a great getaway.
10 miles from anywhere
The marsh wasn’t exactly on my to-visit list this summer. A dart for choosing my road trip destinations landed in tiny Reeseville, about 20 miles southwest in Dodge County. I started my trip there.
“This is 10 miles from anywhere,” said Eddie Boik, who owns Cowbells, a small diner just north of Reeseville in Lowell with his wife, Susan.
I had reached a similar conclusion earlier as I drove through Reeseville on the hunt for something to eat. Google delivered me to Cowbells, a little diner in the middle of farm country.
The Boiks, Chicagoland transplants, serve up breakfast and lunch in their cow-themed diner off Highway G. Saturday is pizza day, and the Chicago-style pie, matched with the friendly conversation with the Boiks, was a great way to kick off my trip.
If there can be good pizza 10 miles from anywhere, why not a brewery, too?
About 8 miles south of Reeseville is Hubbleton Brewing Co. The small brewery is a family affair: dad Dan Schey is the brewmaster, son Mike handles sales and mom Lori does the books. Murphy, the family’s big brown Labarador/Chesapeake retriever, greets visitors to the brewery.
The tap room is next to the family’s home at the end of a long, gravel driveway lined by hop and grape vines. A small sandwich board sign along the road is the only hint that a brewery is there. When I visited Mike worked the small bar, doling out samples and filling pints and growlers, as Dan moved a batch of Huntsman’s Breakfast, a chocolate coffee stout, out of a fermentor in the back of the shed-turned-brewery.
The brewery got its start in March 2017, and the family is al-
ready planning to expand, a testament to the brewery's popularity with locals and visitors alike.
From a burning wasteland to a birding bonanza
Full on the bounty of the Reeseville area’s pizza and beer, I continued north toward Horicon Marsh.
With a few hours of daylight to burn and the threat of rain the next day, I dropped my tent at a campsite in Ledge Park and drove my kayak to the Greenhead Landing along the Rock River on the eastern edge of the marsh.
The marsh is divided into two sections. The northern two-thirds is a national wildlife refuge, while the southern third is managed by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources as a state wildlife area.
That southern portion is open to boating, with four landings for launching a canoe or kayak.
The Greenhead Landing is on the East Branch of the Rock River as it flows through the marsh, passing Fourmile and Cotton islands, home to a great blue heron rookery. A lazy current allows for an easy round-trip paddle.
A century ago, it wouldn’t have been possible to paddle this placid river through these expansive wetlands — they were on fire.
Until the early 20th century, the marsh was popular with hunters, especially duck hunters. But unregulated hunting decimated the ducks, and farmers considered the area's potential for wet-soil agriculture. From 1910 to 1914, the marsh was drained for farming.
But when the exposed peat soil dried out, it caught fire and burned — for years.
In 1921, conservationists began fighting to restore the marsh. Six years later, the state passed the Horicon Marsh Wildlife Refuge Bill. A dam at Horicon helped restore water levels, and wildlife began to return.
Today the most famous of those are the hundreds of thousands of Canada geese that migrate through the marsh every spring and fall. But while they are the most visible — and audible — of migrants, they’re far from alone. More than 300 species have been spotted here, from egrets and herons to grebes and golden eagles.
And boating isn’t the only way to see them. Hiking trails loop around dikes near the visitor center on Highway 28 between Horicon and Mayville and a scenic overlook off Palmatory Street in Horicon. Loops range from under a mile to just over 2 on flat and easy trails perfect for anyone, including kids. A quarter-mile boardwalk is accessible to strollers and wheelchairs.
For cyclists, a bike route travels around and across the marsh, part of the route following the 34-mile Wild Goose
State Trail on the marsh’s western edge.
But canoe or kayak is still the best way to fully experience the marsh. So I paddled my kayak south along the Rock River, a forested shoreline giving way to cattails and stands of oaks, elms and cottonwoods.
The deeper I paddled into the marsh, the more the traffic noise from Highway 28 faded, replaced by the honks of geese and chirps of songbirds. Even in some of Wisconsin’s most remote northern forestland, it’s hard to find that kind of auditory solitude. There always seems to be a logging road nearby, a lawnmower chugging in the distance, or a plane growling overhead.
But in the marsh, 10 miles from anywhere, natural sound reigns. After a duck boat whizzed past, two kids grinning from the front as it traveled into the setting sun, it was just me and nature, seemingly 100 miles from anywhere.