A birds-eye view of the Frank’s Hill Native American mounds near Muscoda, WI. (Photo provided by Three Eagles Foundation.)
“They’re not random,” Ho-Chunk Elite Elder Ritchie Brown said of the effigy and conical mounds at Frank’s Hill and along the Wisconsin River near Muscoda, WI. “There’s a pattern telling us a story, and we’re still trying to figure out what the story is.”
My wife Dianne and I joined with about thirty other seekers at Frank’s Hill on the Winter Solstice, having trudged up the snowy path from Highway 193. We stopped briefly at the bonfire at the base of the mounds to learn more about Frank’s Hill before pilgrimaging further up to the effigy mounds at the peak to watch the sunset. At the top, we milled about, circling the mounds, and engaging in short clips of conversation while others trained their cameras on the path of the setting sun.
Frank’s Hill actually spans two hills in the bluffs a mile inland from the Wisconsin River. Hill West is home to twelve slightly arcing “calendar earthworks” that trace sunrise locations from May to August. Hill East, where we and the other observers were watching the sun descend beyond the river, preserves five mounds thought to represent a coyote, bison, bird woman, beaver and coiled snake.
Frank’s Hill is named for its previous owner, Frank Shadewald, who died in 2013 and established the Three Eagles Foundation to preserve and maintain the mounds in perpetuity.
But Frank’s Hill doesn’t exist in isolation. Shadewald had previously helped preserve sixteen mounds along the Wisconsin River when he and his neighbors sold mound-bearing properties to the Ho-Chunk Nation, who claim descendancy from the mound builders.
A 19th century survey map shows at least 150 mounds, including forty-some bird effigies, once existing along a two-mile river stretch and 1½ miles inland and encompassing Frank’s Hill. Most of the mounds were eventually destroyed by modern agriculture. One of the surviving valley mounds is the “Ghost Eagle” with a 1300-foot wingspan, one of the world’s largest. The mounds derive from the Late Woodland Period of indigenous history, having probably been constructed between 750 and 1050 C.E. in this area, explains Three Eagles Foundation President Mark Cupp. The preponderance of mounds suggests that a large indigenous community once prospered along the river.
After the sale of his riverfront property, Shadewald next took note of the inland mounds on what would later become known as Frank’s Hill. The hill site with its miles-wide vistas had attracted the interest of a housing developer. While the mounds themselves would have been protected by state law, a residential development at their base would have compromised the character of the mound group and perhaps cut off public access, says Cupp. With the funds derived from the sale of his farm, Shadewald stepped in to purchase the entire site.
When Frank died, he gifted Frank’s Hill and an endowment for its upkeep to Three Eagles Foundation. “I’ve tried to continue with Frank’s vision, not only to preserve the land, but to keep it open to people from all walks of life, to the Ho-Chunk and to others,” says Cupp.
The Frank’s Hill mounds often elicit deeply spiritual responses from those who walk its grounds. The mounds have drawn attention of people throughout the western hemisphere. Three Eagles Board member Brian McGraw recalls indigenous visitors who observed a ceremony at Frank’s Hill simultaneous to the same rite being performed 4000 miles away in Peru. The participants noted that “there’s a definite spiritual energy” at Frank’s Hill, McGraw explains.
Non-indigenous visitors have commented on the mystical nature of the mounds as well. And while McGraw concedes that he himself hasn’t been privy to that same experience, “I’m not going to reject something just because I can’t understand it. That’s the attitude that Frank had, being open to everyone of all faiths, creeds, and backgrounds so that people can experience the mounds at whatever level.”
One of the biggest mysteries is what the mounds “mean,” what “story” they tell. The birdwoman mound is perhaps the most evocative on the hill. The birdwoman appears to be giving birth to the sun, with the effigy and its offspring aligned to the rising sun on the spring and fall equinoxes.
Cupp remains open to such mysteries. “The mounds are not only telling a story on the landscape—one that we don’t fully understand—but there’s also a spiritual component as long as you keep your heart and mind open.”
Ritchie Brown concurs. He had helped broker Shadewald’s and his neighbors’ sale of riverfront mounds to the Ho-Chunk and continued his close relationship on through Shadewald’s acquisition of Frank’s Hill. Over the years, Brown had come to know these mounds intimately. Brown notes, “I’m told that if you really want to connect with the mounds, take off your shoes and socks and touch it with your bare feet,” then adds with a chuckle that it’s probably best not to do so on the winter solstice!
Gatherings at Frank’s Hill are regular occurrences on the solstice and equinox sunsets. On this particular winter solstice, the prairie-topped mounds were bathed in pink and rose-colored hues as the sun descended. But then the sun cut its magic short, disappearing into a bank of clouds just before reaching the horizon. Not everything is revealed at once.
But down at the base of the mound another sun—the bonfire—was growing in intensity as Foundation members fed its flames. We pilgrims descended Frank’s Hill to gather at the fire and listen to Elite Elder Brown speak of the long Ho-Chunk association with the land and the sacred nature of the mounds. Later, by phone, Brown observed, “There are still spirits here. You can make that connection if you just stop and be still.”
Eventually the fire burnt down and the cold closed in. We seekers trudged carefully back down the hillside in the dark toward our cars parked along the highway, guided only by small flashlights, our phones’ illumination, and a bit of the evening’s flame that we each carried away inside.
-- March 2026
My wife Dianne and I joined with about thirty other seekers at Frank’s Hill on the Winter Solstice, having trudged up the snowy path from Highway 193. We stopped briefly at the bonfire at the base of the mounds to learn more about Frank’s Hill before pilgrimaging further up to the effigy mounds at the peak to watch the sunset. At the top, we milled about, circling the mounds, and engaging in short clips of conversation while others trained their cameras on the path of the setting sun.
Frank’s Hill actually spans two hills in the bluffs a mile inland from the Wisconsin River. Hill West is home to twelve slightly arcing “calendar earthworks” that trace sunrise locations from May to August. Hill East, where we and the other observers were watching the sun descend beyond the river, preserves five mounds thought to represent a coyote, bison, bird woman, beaver and coiled snake.
Frank’s Hill is named for its previous owner, Frank Shadewald, who died in 2013 and established the Three Eagles Foundation to preserve and maintain the mounds in perpetuity.
But Frank’s Hill doesn’t exist in isolation. Shadewald had previously helped preserve sixteen mounds along the Wisconsin River when he and his neighbors sold mound-bearing properties to the Ho-Chunk Nation, who claim descendancy from the mound builders.
A 19th century survey map shows at least 150 mounds, including forty-some bird effigies, once existing along a two-mile river stretch and 1½ miles inland and encompassing Frank’s Hill. Most of the mounds were eventually destroyed by modern agriculture. One of the surviving valley mounds is the “Ghost Eagle” with a 1300-foot wingspan, one of the world’s largest. The mounds derive from the Late Woodland Period of indigenous history, having probably been constructed between 750 and 1050 C.E. in this area, explains Three Eagles Foundation President Mark Cupp. The preponderance of mounds suggests that a large indigenous community once prospered along the river.
After the sale of his riverfront property, Shadewald next took note of the inland mounds on what would later become known as Frank’s Hill. The hill site with its miles-wide vistas had attracted the interest of a housing developer. While the mounds themselves would have been protected by state law, a residential development at their base would have compromised the character of the mound group and perhaps cut off public access, says Cupp. With the funds derived from the sale of his farm, Shadewald stepped in to purchase the entire site.
When Frank died, he gifted Frank’s Hill and an endowment for its upkeep to Three Eagles Foundation. “I’ve tried to continue with Frank’s vision, not only to preserve the land, but to keep it open to people from all walks of life, to the Ho-Chunk and to others,” says Cupp.
The Frank’s Hill mounds often elicit deeply spiritual responses from those who walk its grounds. The mounds have drawn attention of people throughout the western hemisphere. Three Eagles Board member Brian McGraw recalls indigenous visitors who observed a ceremony at Frank’s Hill simultaneous to the same rite being performed 4000 miles away in Peru. The participants noted that “there’s a definite spiritual energy” at Frank’s Hill, McGraw explains.
Non-indigenous visitors have commented on the mystical nature of the mounds as well. And while McGraw concedes that he himself hasn’t been privy to that same experience, “I’m not going to reject something just because I can’t understand it. That’s the attitude that Frank had, being open to everyone of all faiths, creeds, and backgrounds so that people can experience the mounds at whatever level.”
One of the biggest mysteries is what the mounds “mean,” what “story” they tell. The birdwoman mound is perhaps the most evocative on the hill. The birdwoman appears to be giving birth to the sun, with the effigy and its offspring aligned to the rising sun on the spring and fall equinoxes.
Cupp remains open to such mysteries. “The mounds are not only telling a story on the landscape—one that we don’t fully understand—but there’s also a spiritual component as long as you keep your heart and mind open.”
Ritchie Brown concurs. He had helped broker Shadewald’s and his neighbors’ sale of riverfront mounds to the Ho-Chunk and continued his close relationship on through Shadewald’s acquisition of Frank’s Hill. Over the years, Brown had come to know these mounds intimately. Brown notes, “I’m told that if you really want to connect with the mounds, take off your shoes and socks and touch it with your bare feet,” then adds with a chuckle that it’s probably best not to do so on the winter solstice!
Gatherings at Frank’s Hill are regular occurrences on the solstice and equinox sunsets. On this particular winter solstice, the prairie-topped mounds were bathed in pink and rose-colored hues as the sun descended. But then the sun cut its magic short, disappearing into a bank of clouds just before reaching the horizon. Not everything is revealed at once.
But down at the base of the mound another sun—the bonfire—was growing in intensity as Foundation members fed its flames. We pilgrims descended Frank’s Hill to gather at the fire and listen to Elite Elder Brown speak of the long Ho-Chunk association with the land and the sacred nature of the mounds. Later, by phone, Brown observed, “There are still spirits here. You can make that connection if you just stop and be still.”
Eventually the fire burnt down and the cold closed in. We seekers trudged carefully back down the hillside in the dark toward our cars parked along the highway, guided only by small flashlights, our phones’ illumination, and a bit of the evening’s flame that we each carried away inside.
-- March 2026
View of southwest Wisconsin from Frank’s Hill on the Winter Solstice. Additional mound groups and the Wisconsin River lie in the distance.
In the spring, the Three Eagles Foundation oversees a prescribed burn on the mound effigies to keep their native grasses healthy.
Gateway to the Frank’s Hill effigy mounds.
Summer-time bird's-eye view of Frank's Hill Mounds. (Photo provided by Three Eagles Foundation.)