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Be A One-Man Wildlife Army

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

By Ted Nugent

There is a vast, stunning, towering, soul cleansing forest in the swamplands of southern Michigan that an uppity guitar player planted by hand. With many indigenous coniferous and deciduous species of trees, some now more than 45 years old, this mystical woodland paradise is living proof that real honest to God sweat equity prioritized stewardship can and will make a difference for thriving wildlife and healthy wildground, not to mention a sense of gratifying fulfillment and soul cleansing spiritual fortification that makes a man feel all warm and good inside.

West Bend Wisconsin DeerFest 2017

Friday, August 4, 2017

by Ted Nugent

I don’t have to look to the heavens to see a meteorite, I am a damn meteorite! Based on sheer velocity and trajectory and that fiery vaportrail flaming up a storm in my review mirror, all scientific indicators are showing very little danger of this fireball burning out in the far-off future of my crazy rock-n-roll atmosphere.

I didn’t invent the American Dream but I did perfect it a long, long time ago.

No, seriously, as I hammer away on my handy dandy little laptop computer writing this here NugeBlog, bucking and weaving at 10,800 feet in my little twin turbo-prop Cessna NugeForce1 rocketship on my way to rockout #6613, I am confident that my readers here will give the old backstrapping WhackMaster guitarplayer the benefit of the doubt and let me enjoy this mind dazzling 60 plus year musical adventure with a little creative metaphoring.

Thank you for that. It is good to respect your elders, or least show a little pity!

So far this amazing summer tour 2017, my killer band and I have unleashed 37 firebreathing torrents of killer American soulmusic, marking just past the half-way point of the greatest tour of my life. And of course that means more than half-way to Opening Day of deer season!

Join me in the gnashing of teeth, the rolling of eyeballs, goosebumps on goosebumps and fully erect hair follicles on the back of our necks and scream HALLELUJAH, won’t you!

And of course 37 concerts so far this year also means 37 wonderful roundtable campfires backstage and at the hotels securing once again that our hunting lifestyle truth, logic and commonsense remains alive and well across the hinterland.

The WhackMaster Meets The Buckmaster

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

By: Ted Nugent

JackieB

Okay pilgrims, we’re rockin’ fulltime across America like a jetstorm afire! It’s only July 20 for Nuge summer Rockout 2017 and we’ve already imprinted our fiery rock-n-roll vaportrail singe on thousands and thousands of real music lovers in 20 cities in eight states so far in the 1^st six weeks and we’re not even warmed up yet.

Can I get a witness!

Performing my 6602^nd concert in Montgomery Alabama last Sunday and scorching Nashville yesterday, we will unleash our ferocious animal breeding soundtrack fury on Merrillville, Indiana tonight then blitz onward across the hinterland nonstop to September.

It’s only rock-n-roll but we like it!

Cops, soldiers, teachers, farmers, ranchers, welders, carpenters, truck drivers, entrepreneurs and deerhunters of every imaginable walk of life and just great families hang backstage with their lovable Uncle Ted each and every night to shoot the breeze before and after every concert. No words can describe what an honor and how humbling it is to have such a connection with so many great Americans across the land all these years.

When I saw Montgomery Alabama in the crosshairs, I knew I had to reach out to everybody’s favorite Buckmaster, Jackie Bushman to see if we could get together for the day, and sure enough, old Jackie was home and ready to ROCK!

The Buckmaster picked me up at the airport where we were greeted by the ultimate welcoming committee of US Army warriors. The amazing soldiers sure made me feel welcome and at home and I sincerely thanked them for their service, dedication and sacrifices on behalf of a grateful nation.

I could not have asked for a more relaxing BloodBrother afternoon in preparation for the nightly Iron Man rockout, and Jackie and his beautiful daughter hosted a wonderful steak lunch at their remote hunting cabin in the wilds of Alabama deer country.

No Child Before Their Time

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

by Ted Nugent

Too painful and numerous to repeat here, the horror stories are heartbreaking and endless; a parent wanting desperately to introduce their young son and/or daughter to the joys of the shooting sports before they are truly ready.

That is a deadly and dangerous recipe for disaster and the evidence is far too widespread to ignore.

I have personally witnessed how some youngsters are ready, with ultra-structured guidance, for the intense discipline of the very serious business of firearms fun as early as their 5^th or 6^th birthday. But I have also witnessed the life threatening dangers of pushing a 10 year old before they are physically or psychologically capable of handling or processing all that which goes with safe handling and firing of a gun.

The undeveloped muscle weakness alone of a small boy or girl, not to mention their childish minds, is almost always enough of a concern to force us to wait a few years.

Even with the expert experienced control of a qualified rangemaster, the instantaneous physics of even minimal recoil is a deadly force to reckon with in the wrong hands.

A few proven tips that can be beneficial to a smooth, positive, fun, safe first firearm experience can make all the difference in the world in order to make it something they will not only always cherish, but eagerly wish to repeat often in life.

It’s not just about recruitment into the shooting sports, but more importantly, retention.

The Enemy Within

Monday, June 12, 2017

By: Ted Nugent

How ‘bout our sacred family hunting campfires, huh! It is impossible to put into mere words the power and glory of our pure tooth, fang and claw connection as hunting families with God’s miraculous creation and our natural stewardship lifestyle.

As Fred Bear said and I repeat often, it truly does cleanse the soul!

When we escape the often stressful crazy world of everyday life, nothing soothes and recreates our mind, spirit, body and soul quite like the great outdoors and those we share and celebrate it with.

There is no question that the finest human beings to ever walk the good earth are found in hunting camps and around hunting campfires worldwide.

My mind is aflutter with wonderful happy memories of mom, dad, brothers, sister, sons, daughters, Uncle John and Uncle Dick, cousins, Fred Bear, Dick Mauch, Bob Munger, Ed Bilderback, Doug Walker, George Nicholls, Marv Leslie, extended family and friends and just the greatest most down to earth people a person could ever wish to spend meaningful time with.

With all that immeasurable good we are so blessed with, it is a damn shame we must deal with so much bad and ugly within our hunting community and industry, but in order to maximize all that is good, it is our responsibility to identify and constantly fight to reduce and hopefully eliminate the toxic runaway bad and ugly with all our might wherever and whenever we encounter it.

And you all know exactly what I’m talking about.

Sharing 100s of campfires with 100s of hunting families each year certifies the truth, logic and commonsense that I live by. And though much positive spirit and unlimited fun defines our spirit sessions, there is unfortunately a constant reminder of the pain and heartbreak we all feel ab out the cannibals and inbreeders in our own sport.

LYME EPIDEMIC

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

by Ted Nugent

The two brothers lived to deerhunt. It was a major annual family ritual like no other. Like most of us deerhunters, they lived it year round, always scouting, planning, strategizing, exploring, looking for that perfect backwoods, outback, way-back swampland ambush stand location in our beloved great outdoors.

Their efforts not only paid dividends in the fun, sport, meat, trophy sacred backstrap department, but like pretty much all deerhunters, this aboriginal hands-on conservation lifestyle cleansed their souls and fortified their families’ overall quality of life.

Serious stuff this deerhunting life.

About 20 years ago they celebrated the dream deerhunt when both brothers killed two fine bucks on opening morning. They recall that as they gutted their kills, each deer had more ticks on them than they had seen previously, but they didn’t think much of it.

Turns out both brothers discovered embedded ticks on their bodies the next day, but merely removed them and never gave it a second thought.

Coincidentally, one of the brothers had a nagging flu-like condition at the time and was prescribed a pretty heavy dose of antibiotics, while his brother did not.

Within days, severe headaches and body aches and intense flu-like symptoms rattled the brother that was not prescribed antibiotics, but he just plowed through it not knowing anything about this “rare” and nearly universally misdiagnosed Lyme disease that was ravaging his body.

Horror of horrors, he became increasingly debilitated, weak and sickly until finally a doctor identified Lyme, but it was too late.

Memories With Fred Bear

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

By: Ted Nugent

As we bide our precious time between hunting seasons with family, friends, work and the whirlwinds that are life, it is always good and wonderful to reminisce of hunting days of old.

So as we jettison into summertime 2017, I thought you would enjoy my exciting celebrations of magical time in the early days of bowhunting in America.

Lord knows I was there!

It’s like it was yesterday. On our annual trek north, my family pulled into a small gravel driveway on the outskirts of Grayling, Michigan in early October 1955 and parked our Ford station-wagon at the front door of what was basically a small yellow cinder block garage, the way I remember it.

Though I was only 6 years old, I was wild-eyed with nearly uncontrollable excitement as we headed to my beloved, mythical “Up North” for another fall weekend of bowhunting fun.

I had a little wooden longbow and a makeshift leather backquiver with a few feather-fletched arrows, and in my young mind there was no way you could convince me that I wasn’t officially and seriously bowhunting to kill a deer. Or at least a squirrel or raccoon, or a chipmunk or something!

Dad and I exited the car and opened the door with the Bear Archery sign hanging overhead and entered what unbeknownst to me at the time, could very well have been the bowhunting dream epicenter of planet earth.

Make The Wild Great Again This Summer

Thursday, May 25, 2017

By: Ted Nugent

'Make The Wild Great Again This Summer' Article Image 2

Ah, summertime and the living is easy, so the song says. So what are you doing this summer to make the Great Outdoors great again?

I am here to tell you it’s so simple it’s stupid, and to not do so is really stupid! With pleasant weather and the kids getting out of school, this is the time of year to invest in conservation’s future. And I am convinced the ultimate investment into a great conservation future will always be with our youth.

Us old timers remember all too well a time when every kid in North America had a Red Ryder Daisy BB gun, a Whammo slingshot, a trusty bow and arrow and a fishing pole.

I cannot imagine how I would have ever understood or achieved my outdoor dream without that hands-on pragmatic “aim small miss small” discipline of the shooting sports and excitement of my daily outdoor adventures.

Even though I was born and raised in Detroit proper, lucky, lucky me had a wildlife paradise right across Hazelton Street where the wilds of the mighty Rouge River meandered through a wildlife rich heaven.

In The Eye of the Beholder

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

by Ted Nugent

On the knotty pine wall of my Northern Michigan family hunting cabin is my favorite big game trophy of alltimes. It was my very first hard-earned Michigan big timber, public ground, National Forest, North-woods whitetail buck that I killed on a soul stirring, opening morning November 15, 1969.

Gather round the Uncle Ted hunting story campfire my Spirit BloodBrothers, for there are a gazillion thrilling stories in the Great Spirit of the Wild beyond, and this may very well be one of the best ever.

Warm and proud as a peacock in my old, traditional red and black plaid wool coat and pants, insulated Herman’s Survivor leather boots laced up tight and a Stormy Kromer cap, I could not imagine a more titillating heaven on earth than right then and there at that magic moment in time.

Pray for the poor souls that fail to understand or get all giddy and stimulated in anticipation of Opening Day of Deerseason in America. Pity them.

In the moonless pitch dark a good hour before daybreak, I hunkered down against a towering oak a mile or so due west of Shorty Jenson’s dairy farm, deep in the mythical Manistee National Forest wildgrounds and kicked the ground bare clear of leaves and forest debris for this magic day we live for.

Held lovingly across my lap was my dad’s beautiful and cherished iron sight .308 caliber pre-64 Model 70 Winchester boltgun loaded with 175grain Remington Cor-Lokt soft-points that I bought for about eight bucks for box of 20 rounds at Luke’s Corner General Store on Freesoil Road by Big Bass Lake just that week.

Twenty hunting seasons in and just one month short of my 21^st birthday, I am quite sure I trembled with borderline uncontrollable excitement.

Spring and Summer Outdoor Rituals

Thursday, May 4, 2017

By: Ted Nugent

I’m sure it was as early as the summer of 1950 when I 1^st experienced and discovered the life changing stimuli of outdoor family time. Mom always raved how I was not only walking on my own before my 2^nd birthday but running helter-skelter nonstop every day. I remember hearing the word incorrigible often accompanied by the rolling of eyes and much sighing.

But how could I help it? Afterall, my dad, Warren Henry Nugent was already a serious follower of our Michigan legend Fred Bear, and I am certain I had a little bow and arrow in my hands within the 1^st years of my life.

Not only was I blessed beyond measure to be born in America, but I was born in the wonderful city of Detroit when neighborliness, goodwill, decency and hardcore patriotism and the outdoor lifestyle were alive and well and flourishing. Add to that the wildlife paradise of the winding Rouge River jungles right across the street from our home, and I am here to tell you that the mighty Spirit of the Wild grabbed me by the soul and hooked me gungho!

Some of my fondest memories are those casual strolls through forest and field with my trusty longbow and a few Port Orford cedar arrows in my backquiver. Tipped with blunts and eventually the amazing Judo heads by Jack Zwickey, it was the ultimate hand-eye coordination lessons of random stump and clump shooting that created the best archers and bowhunters of yore.

Fred Bear believed in it and wrote extensively about it. So did Howard Hill, Ben Pearson, Gail Martin, Saxton Pope, Art Young, Roy Case, Doug Walker, Jim Doughtery and pretty much every archery and bowhunting writer of the era.

The creation of the National Field Archery Association came about due to the sheer enjoyment of this style of archery and its pragmatic application could not be beat for real world bowhunting training and practice.