Even when we come up empty, we're fulfilled
Sunday, December 02, 2007
For American hunters, these truly are the good old days.
There are better hunting areas than others, but for the most part, in my home states of Michigan and Texas, and in Alaska, Wyoming, South Dakota, Wisconsin, Nebraska, Ohio, California, Colorado and elsewhere that I hunt, the big- and small-game hunting is nothing short of amazing, spellbinding.
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I see more deer, elk, turkey, cougars, black bear and waterfowl than I have ever seen in more than 50 years of gung-ho hunting.
It truly takes my breath away. Wildlife management is a beautiful thing.
And I go for it. Back in 1973, performing more than 300 concerts a year started to hammer away on my physical and spiritual self. I couldn't stand driving into another sunrise with a glowing frost on the ground, watching truckloads of hunters unloading dogs and guns hitting the fields across America as I headed for my next concert.
It would mean turning down many thrilling rock-n-roll dream concerts with the world's greatest musicians and some substantial income that I truly needed back then. But for a not-so-smart guitar player, I somehow made the miraculous judgment call: I needed to hunt more than I needed to tour so much.
With that, my ultimate American Dream was upgraded to a level of joy beyond comprehension.
Now, it's half the year rocking maniacally, half the year hunting hard-core.
Perfect.
Beast unleashed
With that fateful decision in September, 1973, for me there'd be no more simply settling for opening days or occasional hunting weekends. The Nuge predator beast was unleashed. I have never looked back once. To the hunt!
Over the years, my hunting time has nearly been perfected to include nonstop daily hunting the months of September, October, November, December, January and February, every year, every day, every morning, every afternoon and many days all day.
Oh, dear God in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Hallelujah and pass the massive SpiritWild, my friends. This is it.
I write this from a blind from which fellow Xtremist bowhunting nut Randy Rifenburgh and I have waited out a beautiful rain storm, a solid four hours, with no game in sight.
We know that following a storm game could very well be up and moving now.
But I have been here for five days and Mrs. N needs Hubby home. Plus, I have some meetings with son Rocco's teachers and coaches, and it is time to hit the home hunting grounds.
I am not very good at being away from home following another, long, brutal, energy-sapping rock tour, so it is rare that I even leave home to hunt elsewhere these days.
Finally, we decide to head that way. But as I go I vow to return.
I shut down my laptop, gather my bow and backpack, climb out of the blind and hike the mile back to our truck.
The sky is opening up, temperature rising. Storms build intensity in our minds, visions of big bucks and intriguing sights and sounds flutter in our predator brains.
A covey of bobwhites erupts underfoot and we both swing imaginary shotguns on the exploding featherbombs, smiling a tooth, fang and claw smile as we make perfect air-gun doubles.
We smile and chuckle at each other.
Blood Brothers.
Ted Nugent is a Waco-based musician and television-show host. Communicate with Ted directly at tednugent.com.
