Smith: Born in Horicon and raised on the marsh, Ryan Voy created a proud legacy

HORICON - If a crossword puzzle asked for seven letters to describe a world famous marsh in Wisconsin, I'd be torn.

Horicon fits. But so does Ryan Voy.

If you, like me, were privileged to have known Voy, you knew he was inseparable from the expansive wetland.

Voy was born in Horicon, raised to love the marsh by his parents Jerry and Betty Voy, and once even ran his own business as a naturalist tour guide there.

The assemblage of channels, ponds and islands in the cattail sea was Voy's backyard for more than four decades.

When it was time to buy a home with his wife Kari, of course they chose one in Horicon. The 33,000-acre marsh ran to their property line. The couple also owned a lot in Horicon populated with boat houses.

It's entirely possible Voy's blood type was "H." 

Voy had another defining characteristic: big-heartedness.

After dark Voy would watch the marsh from his house, sometimes detecting lights of boats circling in despair among the maze of vegetation.

"They're lost," Voy would tell Kari. "I'm going."

Within the hour, Voy would have the relieved party – often duck hunters but also bird watchers or other recreationists – back at the Horicon public boat landing.

He actively sought ways to share his love of the marsh with others, too. Chief among them was establishing, with his friend Chuck Dodge of Allenton, the Horicon Marsh Military Veterans Hunt.

"Neither of us served in the military," Voy told me in November 2011 at the second annual event. "But our fathers and grandfathers did and we know we can't do enough to appreciate our fellow Americans who choose to serve today."

The event, as genuine and heartfelt as the marsh is fertile, grew from 12 veterans in 2010 to 82 in 2017. 

"You feel that sincerity right away," said Ryan Baudhuin of Wrightstown, a retired U.S. Marine sargeant who first attended the event in 2011 and now helps attract other vets to the gathering. "You become part of a community."

The community Voy cultivated is now reeling. Voy died Sunday of a massive heart attack; he was 46. The tears shed over the news have likely raised Horicon's water level.

Voy is survived by Kari, 44, and their sons Hunter (15) and Tanner (13). 

The loss of a friend or loved one is never easy. It's especially hard when the person is so young and so productive as Voy.

My personal bond with Voy was sealed on our first trip on the marsh.  Few people I've met were as knowledgeable of wetland ecology as Voy. As we sat camouflaged in his boat, a bird song rang out.

As I squinted at one point after hearing a distant call, he said "American bittern." 

But he was as modest as the marsh was vast. And he was king at the art of giving and taking guff.

On one hunt, Voy's friend Troy Sadowski had set up about 40 yards from us. As a group of mallards flared overhead, Sadowski said, "That was my 'go away' call."

"Yeah, I've been waiting for you to learn to do it in reverse," Voy said without missing a beat.

Beyond that, Voy knew the value of hunting was not tied to kills. It was in connecting with the land and water, developing relationships with other hunters and playing a part in conservation of the natural world.

When he wasn't on the marsh, Voy worked very close to it as a manufacturing supervisor at the Horicon John Deere plant. Voy worked at the company 19 years.

Had his health not failed, Voy could well have been the third generation of his family to work for more than 30 years at Deere.

Questions abound when a life is cut short. I don't have a clue as to "why?"

But this much I know is true – Voy created a proud legacy in his 46 years.

The community he nurtured has turned out in droves to offer help to Kari and the boys.

"I haven't had to cook (since Sunday)," Kari said on Wednesday. "The support has been tremendous."

Kari also said a local widow and her teenage son stopped by to talk to Hunter and Tanner.

The boy's message was powerful: You can choose to fail, and people will say it's because your father died. Or you can choose to make your father proud.

I also know this: The community is going to do everything in its power to help Hunter and Tanner accomplish the latter.

When asked if the vet's hunt would continue, Kari didn't hesitate.

"October 19 to 21," she said. "Ryan wouldn't want it any different."

The immediate future will include a church service on Saturday, followed by a gathering at Voy's boat house.

The tents are up and the flags will be flying, said Jerry Voy, just like at the vet's hunt.

Then a parade of boats will head into Horicon, dedicating some of Ryan Voy's ashes to the marsh he so loved. 

I know he'll be there on future hunts, ready to heckle and engage in good fun.

And more than anything, his memory will encourage us to open our hearts and arms and share our love of the outdoors with others.

Godspeed Ryan, Godspeed.