Okay, American deerhunters, brace thy-selves, for IT has arrived, by all realworld indicators, IT is upon us, The Time has come and we have liftoff! It is official — reasoning predators are up and at ’em, moving and grooving, sneaking and stalking, practicing and honing, tweaking and adjusting, gearing up and finely tuning and strategizing and celebrating THAT magic time of year we all live for.
By Ted Nugent
Look to the heavens and thank God almighty everyday that we were born deerhunters, or at least at some point we eventually discovered our true calling, for deerhunting sure ain’t no hobby, we can’t take it or leave it. To so many of us it is life itself. We hunt because we are hunters. It is branded deep on our souls and an inescapable force of our psyches and inner spirit. It is who we are, and we like it.
Oh HALLELUJAH and pass the garlic and butter. Rejoice and prepare for spiritual outrage.
I know, I know, it’s not exactly the rut yet (well, in California and Florida it is) and it’s not exactly the glow of October, but come on, it is August 21, and I don’t know about all of you, but everybody I know is already full-on, gung-ho, hopelessly dedicated and engaged and manically giddy with the shivers of THE SEASON, even if opening day hasn’t hit in our home neck of the woods yet.
If you are a deer and deer hunting venison BloodBrother reading this here NugeBlog#51, then I reek of confidence that I know each of you intimately, whether we have ever met, ever spoke, know each other’s name or ever shared a campfire.
I look at my time here at deeranddeerhunting.com as a huge, roaring electronic campfire of genuine, real, sincere, down to earth communication as if we were seated at the edge of the flames, poking embers, roasting a shank, a haunch, a slab, a strap or even a wiener or a marshmallow together, sharing this lifestyle that we all cherish so dearly.
This is our SpiritFire, and I actually feel the warmth of its flames and see the smiles on your faces.
I can hear your stories, feel your excitement, absorb your spirit and share the powerful emotions that bring us to deer camp, regardless of geographical or physical location. It may appear to just be words conveyed in cyberspace, but the sensations are as real as any deepwoods family camp.
Know it, celebrate it, share it, enjoy it, promote it, spread it, live it. God knows I do.
Many of my hunting buddies have already hung up some dandy beasts in California, South Carolina, Florida, and even those big Canadian and Alaskan caribou and moose deer. And aren’t there some late August muley ops available in some western states as well? I do believe so. Say YOWZA! And get ya some!
All my Texas buddies have been after those always-challenging exotic deer throughout the year that can be found all over the Lone Star State. Many a fallow, sika, axis, red, wapiti, Pere David, Barrasinga and others have been stalked, brought to bag and rendered into family sized portions of some of the best venison to be found anywhere. If you haven’t yet tried the always thrilling, insanely fun and incredibly delicious Texas exotic deerhunts, you really oughtta ASAP. It is all a deerhunter’s dream I assure you.
I for one am lost for words to adequately describe my post-tour state of mind. To all the real soulmusic lovers around the world who shared the out-of-body SHUTUP&JAM! tour, Godbless you all and thank you for providing, supporting and creating by far the greatest tour of my life.
The energy and fiery spirit of every concert was indescribable with outrageous positive energy, spirit and attitude.
Having performed by 6500th concert this year, I can say without hesitation that my greatest 10 concerts of alltimes took place this year. That is an outrageous statement unto itself, but believe me, I was there at all 6500+ rockouts, and the energy level, the tightness and ferocity of my amazing band was not of this planet. Thank you, thank you, thank you all.
Coming off that tour, not coming down from it, is a rather interesting if not perplexing journey to the center of the mind, if you will. The adrenalin and endorphin overload is literally at dangerous levels because it gives me a false sense of superhuman capabilities. Knowing that I am not superhuman, forces me to be very aware of my need to discipline my energies and impulse to attempt dangerous, shall we say, younger man stage stunts.
Further complicated by my double knee replacement surgery earlier in the year, and the prolonged rehab while on tour, my limitations were rather forthright and inescapable, so I was reminded by serious pain not to overdo it.
And that brings me to my ever loving Chapter Two of my annual American Dream — hunting season!
If any single word describes the act of deerhunting, I would suggest that the word is discipline.
Of course where I come from, that quality of life guiding word and regimen defines the intelligent pursuit of anything and everything in life.
Without conscientious, seriously thoughtful discipline, we have chaos, virtually guaranteed.
In the world of music, lack of discipline makes for lame music, and from this eyewitness of more than 55 years in the music industry, such failure to pay attention to details more often than not ends up with something much worse than bad music. I have seen how failure to discipline has resulted in the death of many, many, painfully many lives.
And in the world of hunting, the same things apply and the same things can end up happening.
Not only does lack of discipline cause blown opportunities at game, but in the world of treestand hunting and traversing dangerous topography, we all know that a hunter’s death can and does occur.
So let us all gently stir the glowing embers of all our campfires at every opportunity, both literally and figuratively, and make it a point to increase the level of communication amongst our fellow hunters. Do not reduce or compromise the fun stories and sometimes silly times around camp, but let us make a conscientious effort to remind each other to go slow, take it easy, be ultra-careful, pay closer attention to detail more than ever before, and insist that all our buddies wear fall restraint gear when hunting from elevated positions, no matter what.
Remind our BloodBrothers that no trophy animal is worth the danger of an uncertain stalk or iffy mountainous path or trail. No shot is worth it unless the background is certain.
Our number one responsibility as hunters is not to kill game, but to make it back to camp safe and sound after everyday afield.
If crazy ol’ MotorCity Madman me can remain disciplined enough to pace myself amidst the ear shattering, bone slamming sonic bombast of so many over the top concerts every night on tour, and actually slow down to a cautious, careful old man predator with all that adrenalin still coursing wildly through my veins each hunting day, every day, then clearly anybody can and should do so.
Hunt safe, hunt hard, but always hunt smart. Someone is waiting for you back home, and it is our job to do the right thing and make them happy.
See you at tednugent.com and the Facebook campfire. Uncle Ted, backstrappin’ fulltime, never over, never out, hunting hard and hunting as smart as I can. May the Great Spirit be with you all. Aim small miss small, go WILD and may your venison dreams come true like never before! Say a prayer for the wildthings like you mean it. I mean it!
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