Thursday, September 24, 2020By: Ted Nugent Mercy, mercy me, was I a hyper rapscallion ridgerunning MoFo back in the good old days as a young whippersnapper deerhunting fool or what? Clearly, there is no what, for the inescapable evidence tells no lies and my youthful incendiary vaportrail in the wild burns on! I mean, when I hunted partridge and timberdoodles behind my trio of equally hyper Irish Setters, Paco, Popeye and Pinecone, we covered ground like some sort of swamp bustin, timber scrambling Olympic Samurai sodbustin marshland maniacs. We’re talking, miles, and miles, and miles and miles and miles each morning when the flight birds were in, and then we would grab a quick bite, dump our hard earned gamebag full of birds, reload, oilrag down the short barreled side by side 20 gauge then head right back out to do it again. After yet many more bone fatiguing trudging miles, a quick change of clothes, a hot shower and getting the amazing hounds fed, watered and kenneled up, I would race to my favorite high ridge makeshift treestand with my trusty bow and arrow for another thrilling afternoon of deerhunting. I look back and chuckle with pure happiness and thankfulness at the incredible pace I would maintain each fall season, then I sit here in the fall of 2020 and realize those crazy fast paced days afield are pretty much done with, over and out.
Thursday, September 17, 2020By: Ted Nugent We all know that every hunt is a very special experience. We so eagerly anticipate each fall season that it is hard to put into words the excitement we actually feel coursing through our veins this wild time of year. People often ask me what my favorite alltime hunt is, and I always respond, “My next one!” Each outing provides its own unique set of dynamics and as we move on in life, we tend to cherish each and every detail of the overall adventure. As I excitedly plunge into my huntseason 2020, my long-awaited Michigan bear tag represents one of the most desirable hunt opportunities of my life. I’ve killed many bears over the years across North America, and each and every one of them is powerfully special and memorable. Bears are a fascinating animal and the wild grounds in which they inhabit accentuates every hunt for sure. But when you draw a bear tag for your own privately owned bear infested family hunting grounds in an area that had no bears at all when I first explored that region 50 some years ago, the hopes and dreams of this hunt take on a whole accelerating dynamo.
Wednesday, September 9, 2020By: Ted Nugent I am a gungho deerhunter, but much more than that, I am a gungho hunter of allthings fun, sport, meat, trophy conservation! Every deerhunter that I know also hunts all sorts of smallgame and big game here, there and everywhere. “I hunt too much!” nobody ever said! As much as I absolutely love deerhunting, I do indeed crave my sacred time in the duckblind with Happy, Sadie and Coco when the fowl are flying. And with all my habitat renovation and varmint control over the years, we have some incredible pheasant and rabbit hunting on the old Nugent swamp these days. It’s been a while since I arrowed a pronghorn, elk, caribou or moose, but that’s because I so crave my time at home with my family during the fall/winter seasons and the plethora of game that abounds on our homegrounds.
Wednesday, September 2, 2020By: Ted Nugent My buddy, Master Bowhunter and fulltime mystical flight of the arrow maniac Tim Wells has a killer TV show titled Relentless Pursuit, and rightly so. To my way of thinking, the American Dream of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness should indeed be relentless if one is to be truly alive to the absolute fullest degree. As a gungho lifetime guitar adventurer, my indefatigable pursuit of uncharted 6string musical outrage certainly qualifies as a fulltime relentless pursuit by any and all considerations. Even though the size, shape and dimensions of my beautifully handcrafted Gibson Byrdland guitar necks and their 6strings have what appears to be rather limited geography and topography, I assure you, nonetheless, that there are many voices, tones, grooves, grinds, rhythms, noises, growls, screams, melodies, sonic bombasts, peaks, valleys, gorges, ravines, ridges, cliffs, emotions, dreams and unexplored terrain on that little slab of fretted wood than you can imagine that have yet to be discovered. And discover them I shall! Relentlessly!
Thursday, August 27, 2020By: Ted Nugent I’ve been feeling it for quite a while already, and I know you have as well! Considering the dilemma of the tragic Communist Chinese virus hell 2020 bio attack on America, with so much of our normal lives being shutdown or at least dramatically reduced, never before has the fall hunting season…
Thursday, August 20, 2020By: Ted Nugent Growing up back in Detroit in the roaring 50s, every Thursday was trash day, and me and the boys were searching for the Holy Grail of recyclable garbage. We would mount our Stump Jumper Huffy and Schwinn bikes early in the morning and race from one driveway to the next, probing everybody’s junkpile for something we could use. Sometimes we would find heavy duty cardboard and wooden cigar boxes still in darn good shape, sometimes with tools, nuts, bolts, coins, bullets and assorted interesting paraphernalia and occasionally usable stuff. The treasure of treasure was the highly desirable collection of marbles, which just so happened to be the ultimate accurate ammo for our homemade slingshots.
Friday, August 7, 2020By: Ted Nugent Sniff sniff! Sniff sniff sniff!! Snort snort! Grunt sniff snortwheeze! I don’t know about you, but I smell fall! And I like it! And it is about damn time I would say! I know, I know! August isn’t exactly the window to official cool fall conditions, with lots of nasty anti-hunting crazy hot and humid days still before us, August nonetheless provides a hint of dreamy autumn things to come! It was a stupid pain in the ass 102 degrees here at SpiritWild Ranch in Texas again today, and by noon I had already gone through three different sweat soaked saturated shirts just attempting a few simple easy going chores in the so called cooler morning tempts. I did get a number of texts from my deerhunting brethren across the Midwest heartland today sharing the heartwarming news that they had hit lows in the 40s and I literally got all starry eyed with dreamy cravings for those magical frosty days of October, November and beyond. Now, mind you, I am more than well aware of my own history in the swamps of Michigan where over the years we occasionally experienced some downright uncomfortable 90 degree deerhunting days even in that neck of the northern deerwoods.
Wednesday, August 5, 2020By: Ted Nugent Spirit Campfire! What pray tell, might you inquire, could be this Spirit Campfire thang? I mean, afterall, campfires are simply a pile of burning wood in a makeshift circle, right? What possibly could spirit have to do with a good, old, simple, foot-warming campfire? I digress, for surely my brethren here at deeranddeerhutning.com understand perfectly well just how incredibly spiritual our hunting family campfires have always burned brightly for time immemorial forevermore. Just like our nonstop dynamo celebration of the Spirit of the Wild in our beloved outdoor lifestyle, those of us so deeply connected to the Good Earth and God’s miraculous renewable creation as actual participants have always understood perfectly well the physics of spirituality that represents the inescapable power and perfection of hands-on nature. Sure, the warming campfires of our hunting seasons do indeed draw our tribe inward, warm our hands and feet, and dry our wet camo regalia on those beautiful fall and winter cold, wet days of the annual harvest.
Tuesday, July 28, 2020By: Ted Nugent I can refer to you all as my Spirit BloodBrothers, can’t I! Well, of course I can! That you are reading these words in this deeranddeerhunting.com environment is irrefutable evidence that we are indeed Spirit BloodBrothers. The historical spiritual term BloodBrothers being the timeless aboriginal colloquialism of a deep, abiding brotherhood of the blood and spirit that bonded both a biological brotherhood and tribal/village brotherhood, we must remain united in our fight for the soul of America and our perfect hands-on conservation, outdoor hunting, fishing, stewardship lifestyle. That bonding code of being there for each other no matter what is alive and well right here and now during this insanity in the year 2020, and such a bond will play a pivotal role in the survival of our species. Especially our American freedom species. As deerhunters we know all too well the inescapable truism that tenacity and that indefatigable Man in the Arena nevergiveuptitude determines whether we dine on hard earned venison or end up buying chicken. As all the best elements of our American culture come under increasing attacks by strange, violent mobs, the American Man in the Arena better be prepared with an endless energy and dedication to not only hold our ground, but aggressively push back with all we got against the indisputable evil forces we are witnessing in Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, Salt Lake City, Chicago, Minneapolis, Atlanta, Washington DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Detroit, Dallas, Houston, Austin, New York and beyond.
Monday, July 13, 2020By: Ted Nugent The big old swampdonkey matriarch doe was still a ways off, more than 100 yards due south of me, upwind with a strong, steady breeze at her backside. She appeared off and on as she slowly skirted in and out of the heavy cover twixt the standing cornfield and the golden marshgrass, swaying reed-hell of my magical, mystical Michigan swamplands. I was invisible, completely covered up by the huge trunk and limbs in the heavy oak leaf, dark shadowy canopy of my favorite ambush perch. The setup could not have been better as she cautiously picked her way, slow step by step towards the bean field and my killer Plot1seed.com foodplot beneath me. I’ve been bowhunting these berserk spooky whitetails for more than 65 years, so I was not surprised at all when she jerked her head up, lifted her amazing nose into the air, twisted her radar ears to and fro, stomped and snorted, then pivoted and bounded off into the woodlands like she had just run into a coiled panther.