WINTER ON THE HILL
Exploring Mosquito Hill By Snowshoe By Robert J. Zimmer The rosy glow of winter dawn washed over the sloping hillside, the bare skeletons of sumac and dogwood shrubs spreading over a fresh blanket of deep, powdery snow. Thin wisps of ice clouds feathered the brightening sky and the still morning air was filled with a gentle shower of tiny ice crystals dropping down from above. Not a breeze stirred on this quiet winter morning. The temperature was 13 degrees, though my body was
sweating beneath layers of warm winter clothing. Snowshoeing the bottomlands and hillsides at Mosquito Hill Nature Center is guaranteed to send your heart racing. Thundering ice booms cracked down in the valley among the Wolf River  bottoms, echoing loudly from
the towering hillside that is "Mosquito Hill." The waters were not yet ready to surrender to the season. A noisy group of crows erupted from the lowland maples, swirling up from the river bottom and playing an energetic game of tag as they moved out over the prairie toward the hillside. I stood in place, taking it all in. Some people hate winter in Wisconsin ... I am not one of them. Mosquito Hill Nature Center is located just east of the city of New
London near the Outagamie and Waupaca county line south of Wisconsin Highway 54. The highlight of the area is, of course, the hill itself, rising 230 feet above the surrounding Wolf River bottoms, old fields and prairies. Throughout the year, Mosquito Hill offers a unique and beautiful outdoor experience featuring an ongoing parade of colorful wildflowers, butterflies, birds and other wildlife and plant communities that lasts from season to season.
Winter is a perfect time to visit Mosquito Hill and the area offers prime winter hiking, birdwatching and snowshoeing opportunities for visitors of all ages. A variety of fun and educational programs and workshops fill the schedule throughout the winter months as well. Contact the nature center for a schedule or to register.
Now deep in the bottomlands at the edge of one of several large "oxbow" ponds, the soft swish of my snowshoes through 10 inches of fluffy powder
drifted through the towering skeletons of the naked maples. Oxbow ponds are unique in the region of the the Mosquito Hill property. An oxbow pond is formed as a young river ages and its meandering flow begins to straighten and form a less–winding channel. A steep bend in the river channel may be cut off over time – by buildup of sand bars or debris – and gradually this part of the river becomes completely isolated from the main channel, forming an arching, or oxbow shaped, pond. The pond is
replenished each spring by the river's highly predictable and spectacular annual flooding. In spring and summer, these quiet backwaters are filled with colorful nesting wood ducks, great blue herons and many songbird species, as well as swarms of frogs, insects and rare plants.
For now, the pond lies blanketed in a thick mantle of winter snow, the fringing trees stark and silent. Wisps of dried marsh grasses rise from the
snow cover and fluffy cattails still hold masses of billowy seeds. A well–marked snowshoe trail leads through these haunting bottomlands but you are free to go off trail throughout most of the area.
I trudged across the frozen pond to the far shore where I was suddenly greeted by a swarm of friendly songbirds. As I climbed up the bank to the forest on the far shoreline, they came seemingly out of nowhere, scolding
and chattering and going about their joyful morning business as I entered their woodland domain.
Black–capped chickadees tumbled through the blood red branches of the dogwood shrubs, chattering at me teasingly as they approached within a yard and explored the smallest cracks and crevices in the bark. American goldfinches were here as well, their brilliant summer colors gone now, but still bubbly and effervescent as ever. Blue jays began to scream in the
treetops and, of course, there were the crows. What a wonderful patch of lively woodlands here deep in the dark river bottoms.
During the warmer months of the year, Mosquito Hill offers rigorous hiking and running trails that scale the top of the summit and wind down the sloping hillside to the east. In addition, runners will enjoy the quiet country roads surrounding the area, as well as the Wolf River itself for exciting rafting, canoeing and kayaking.
The nature center is home to the famous Butterfly House in summer, an increasingly popular attraction that features a mesh–enclosed building filled with colorful wildflowers, host plants and swarms of free–flying native butterflies which visitors are able to stroll among.
Another highlight of Mosquito Hill is the lowland flood plain forest covering the Wolf River bottoms. Annually, some 300 acres of the nature center's 430 are flooded as the Wolf River exceeds its banks each spring.
"With the diversity of land forms here, you get tremendous diversity in all the vegetation and animal life at Mosquito Hill," notes longtime naturalist Jim Anderson, who retired on Oct. 1 of this year. "We can really show people the whole spectrum of wildlife in Wisconsin right here at Mosquito Hill."
The cold winter sun rose higher over the treetops as morning grew longer and I worked my way towards the top of Mosquito Hill. A gentle breeze
had begun to stir, sending plumes of icy snow tumbling from the branches overhead.
The longest trail at Mosquito Hill – just over four miles – loops from the nature center building, down the sloping landscape through a large restored prairie, into the lowland flood plain, then circles the entire limestone outcropping known as "the hill." Sections of the trail are quite steep, providing a great cardiovascular workout for runners and hikers, and an
extended incline at the back edge really works your body. In just a few short steps, one is able to travel from rich lowland forest to wet meadow, to dry native prairie, to juniper stands, to the fern–filled deciduous oasis that makes up the hill's north slope. No where else in the region can one experience such a wide range of habitat regions within such a compact area.
I worked my way along the unbroken trail through the thick blanket of
fresh snow , gradually climbing the eastern slope. A group of seven white–tailed deer perked up from their beds beneath the thick sumac stands and followed me with their large, dark eyes. Great ears whiffle to catch every wilderness sound and I could see every breath of these beautiful animals rise in a billowy plume. As I neared, the graceful deer flashed their snow–white tails and lept off down the slope deeper into the brush.
Along the north slope, the trail takes a number of challenging dips and turns among the thicker trees and passes through dense stands of pine and spruce before leveling off and traversing the entire base of the hill. The sweet–smelling pines ring loudly with the sharp calls of cardinals and the shrill cries of blue jays hiding among the snow–covered boughs. Chickadees swarm here as well, just as taming and trusting as those in the
river bottoms. A large red–tailed hawk lifts quietly from its perch atop an old crag, shrieking as it rides the minimal breeze higher and higher, then circles out over the hilltop.
At its northwest point, the trail splits to offer two separate routes up the hill. One option leads straight up the steep hillside, quite a challenging climb in any season, made even more difficult in winter with slippery footing or hard–packed trails. The other trail zigzags gradually up the north slope, a
pleasant climb through the rich maple and birch forest that covers this area of the hill. During the spring and summer, the north slope is richly decorated with delicate ferns and exquisite woodland wildflowers such as wild ginger, hepatica, bloodroot and trilliums en masse. For now, only the bare stalks of a few dried ferns and shrubs rise above the heavy snow, the rest withered and buried beneath an insulating blanket of white. The view
through the snow–covered forest, up and down the steep hillside, is spectacular and I watched as another small group of white–tails raced up the hill before me, their preferred runway already clearly trampled through the fresh new snow.
As I reach the summit, the view of the surrounding countryside is spectacular. The top of the hill becomes a section of sheer limestone cliffs that flattens to provide a looping trail circling the top of the hill then back
down the southern slope. Though the view is wonderful and the feeling of being so high is overwhelming. It is amazing to learn the the mean elevation (distance above mean sea level) at the top of Mosquito Hill is the same as in the city of Appleton, from where I've come, reflecting the fact that my entire drive here was actually downhill!
Below and to the west, lies the city of New London, and one can follow the heavily wooded, winding channel of the Wolf River for miles from this
height.
The sun grows brighter now and countless millions of glistening snowflakes sparkle in the morning glow. A red squirrel quietly stalks to within a few yards of the tree I lean against, apparently unafraid and curious. The loud hammering of a woodpecker against the rotting crag of an old birch resounds from the hilltop down across the prairie to the river bottoms below, and I watch the colorful bird working hard for its morning meal.
This is as good as it gets in winter – clear, crisp air, a fresh glistening snow, exhilerating climb, wonderful wildlife and, best of all, the silence.
The red tailed hawk shrieks again just overhead, circling the hilltop then sailing off toward the river. The blue jays scream in the bare birches. Other birds sing in the forest far below, their voices carried up the slope so rich and clear. The snow–covered landscape is breathtaking and magical, the
winter sky crisp and clear. A faint smell of pine and dried leaves laced the air, and woodsmoke from a distant fireplace.
I took one last glimpse from the top of the summit, my view from the hill, then began the long walk down. There will certainly be many more mornings like this to come during the long winter ahead.
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