Beyond thrill of hunt, this is nature at its most exhilarating
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Let me see if I can paint a picture here for you. I know numerous Americans out there who are much like me: so very alive, gung-ho, hard-core, intensely passionate, addicted hunters. BloodBrothers of the Great SpiritWild.
To the uninitiated, this may all be a bit too much. But take a deep breath and go with me here. You should enjoy this. I am.
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Intense, nearly blinding bolts of lightning are exploding and lighting up the Texas scrub all around me every few seconds, followed by wonderful, violent, roaring thunderclaps that pummel my skeleton and shake the earth.
I flinch from the first few. Then I just grin, celebrating every eruption.
Heavy rain is hammering wildly on the tractor trailer overhead cab unit in which I sit. This is my deerblind and this is my world: throbbing in the lap of God, snorting life for all it's worth, jamming with Ma Nature during one of her genuine, over-the-top, outrageous rock-'n'-roll concerts of the wild.
I of the storm indeed.
I'm stabbing away on my laptop computer here, right now, in the middle of it all, stimulated beyond description, though I will give it my best shot to share with you this wonderful thrill.
I just signed off from the Internet using some inexplicable mobile card technology that allows me to communicate in real time with people from around the world on my tednugent.com TalkBack board.
Weird, huh? But cool as all hell.
Many people join me at this electro-campfire to better try to understand how I, we, so passionately crave this hunting, hands-on nature lifestyle.
Plus I am sure they are amused at the old guitarboy's gung-ho attitude about nearly everything in life.
I can't begin to tell you how many of these people are now hunters and gun owners simply because we so sincerely and believably share our love and joys about these things in a no-BS sort of way in a public forum.
Happiness and truth are very contagious. People are looking for as much of both as they can find. I reek of it.
We are born at Point A, and will die at Point B. Carpe Diem like ya means it. Excelsior!
So, the rain is intensifying wildly now, really pounding, as gung-ho all- American BloodBrother/guide/outfitter/vidman/biologist/fellow Xtremist bowhunting nut Randy Rifenburgh and I sit here taking it all in, not really believing that deer or hogs will be moving in this beautiful storm.
Using the overhead cab units as deerblinds are Randy's idea, figuring the cozy, wind-and-rain-protecting darkness is a killer ambush setup for the Newell Ranch's bowhunting guests.
As always, he is correct. The deer, hogs, turkey and varmints have come to accept it as simply more ranching equipment, part of the landscape.
An ultra bright, elongated flash of white lightning has just exploded. The silhouette of an enormous hog stands out behind a screen of mesquite, like some ominous, beastly graphic in a horror movie.
Randy taps my leg. I stop typing and put down my laptop and notch an arrow on my Martin bowstring, hoping.
The giant 300-pound pork tank noses around a deer feeder, then diddles off without offering any kind of shot.
He's truly a world-class trophy — red-and-black brindled, a boar of a lifetime.
Though I itch to take him, even with my 10mm Glock, here we prefer to kill 'em with arrows. So I hesitate, hoping he might come closer.
Now it's 30 minutes since he disappeared. So far, no show.
The rain is backing off now. Welcome, cool winds of relief from the northwest stroke the rich, swaying vegetation before us.
Texas air is absolutely delicious during and after a good rain. We can hear the rolling thunderclaps getting farther off to the south. Dark skies overhead and big puddles of water everywhere, but still no game in sight.
A dizzying assortment of birds starts to show up. Bright red cardinals fluff their wet feathers and go for corn. A flycatcher hovers like a helicopter right in our face.
Bobwhite can be seen in the grasses and ubiquitous broomweed.
A gold-fronted woodpecker is punching away at the protein feeder spout. We just saw a trio of whitetails hi-tailing it from east to west off a ways and a few morning doves just lit on a dead mesquite branch. Day is breaking.
I'm stoned, inebriated, drunk on freedom and pure predatorship. It is life itself.
Ted Nugent is a Waco-based musician and television show host.
