Never underestimate the power of the kill. Never compromise the essence of the kill. Never apologize for the duty of the kill. Always celebrate that it is indeed the kill that consummates the hunt and brings healthy, beautiful conservation balance to the flocks and herds while providing hard earned sacred protein for our bellies.
The kill is good. The kill is perfect.
Believe me when I tell you that nobody knows better than me that the kill itself is but a hiccup flash in time, that indeed we don’t hunt just to kill, but it is surely the kill that ultimately wraps up the natural, pure predator instinct and never-ending challenging efforts that drive us to hunt in the first place.
Give me a moment here, would you please. I must gather my thoughts, calm my nerves and do everything in my substantial power to manage the tsunami of emotional wreckage currently coming undone.
You see, it is the end of February 2021, and my beloved whitetail deerseason in Texas comes to a painful, heartbreaking, screeching halt on March 1st, and quite honestly, I just don’t know what to do with my bad-self.
With the wonderful Texas Parks and Wildlife “Managed Land Deer Permit” system we the conservation people of the mighty Lone Star State created many years ago for optimal wildlife health and balance by putting deer harvest control and decisions in the hands of landowners where it belongs, we get to hunt our whitetails right to the end of February, and let me tell you, there is simply no place else I would want to live, or quite frankly, could live the hunting life like I do.
Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness! Remember that beloved freedom battlecry of and for the American Dream! Though still very much alive and well and celebrated with mucho gusto and passion here, there and everywhere, it is indeed tragically becoming more and more difficult to experience and in fact illegal in more and more jurisdictions across America. This powerful human instinct nonetheless remains the ultimate mantra for the best of us!
Out here in the pure, natural, instinctual world of hands-on nature participation in the perfect hunting, fishing, trapping conservation lifestyle, where you can find it, such joy remains as beautiful as ever for those of us smart and determined enough to live it, demand it, promote it and celebrate it!
The gorgeous whitetail buck was still a long-ways off, but if he stays on course along the rocky dry creekbed, I just may get an arrow off for more backstrap dreams. It may be late in the season for whitetails on this beautiful, cold February afternoon, but you would think this was my very first encounter ever with a deer I was so damn excited.
A handsome doe with two good sized yearlings meandered past my ambush tree and I was gearing up for a hopeful shot after a long, patience testing vigil when I caught movement off my left shoulder in the puckerbrush tangles below.
Well, lo and behold, there is no question we are in Texas baby, when the telltale red and white spotted beast stepped into view, and immediately my whitetail dreams pulsated vigorously into the axis deer mode and I let er rip!
I constantly celebrate my extreme good fortune to share deerhunting campfires with the best people that roam the earth. Life’s blessings in the deerhunting world come in many forms, but to connect so intimately so often every season with so many great families could very well be the greatest blessing of them all.
My annual 777 Ranch deerhunt in Hondo Texas is a perfect example of such a grand experience. Each January I join legendary international professional big game hunter Jeff Rann and his wonderful wife Kwezi and team at this amazing wildlife paradise and historical whitetail deer hunting destination in South Texas.
South Texas is certainly a deerhunting paradise. My annual whitetail winter safari around the Uvalde, Knippa, Sabinal, Hondo region southwest of San Antonio is beyond any bowhunting dream this old Michigan deerhunter could have ever imagined.
Blessed and beyond fortunate to be invited on to the 8000-acre Mosing family 4M Ranch all these years has brought me so much joy I can hardly stand it. Managed for nearly 50 years for optimal healthy, thriving wildlife habitat through balanced deer numbers has created a deer herd that you would have to see it and hunt it to believe it.
For starters, I would like to wish my deeranddeerhunting.com Spirit BloodBrothers a very happy 2021! As we throttle into another gift of a new year of life in the eternal deercamps of America, I hope we all maximize the positive and fight like mad to reduce and hopefully eliminate as much of the negative as we can in our every word, deed and action.
I will be sharing some of my amazing deerhunts from 2020 and still going on into 2021 here in an effort to emphasize the many lessons I have learned. When approached with the proper mindset, each and every hunt will provide important lessons in not only how to be more efficient deerhunters, but more importantly, how these powerful lessons of cause and effect can be applied to our every day lives for overall upgrade.
Many of us will hunt nonstop for the next month or so, and I thank God everyday for the opportunity to connect with His physics of spirituality in the soul cleansing great outdoors.
Anybody get the license plate number on that runaway tandem gravel scow that just twelve-wheel drifted broadside into our American Dream! I think it said “2020” in big, ugly, bold numbers!
That is a number we will not soon forget, unfortunately!
I’ve been around for 72 of these wild earthly American years, (measured in deerseasons) and I’ve seen and witnessed a lot of extremes, but there was no way I was ready for what the year 2020 had in store for us.
Here on this wonderful December 17, 2020 glorious day of bowhunting whitetail deer on the gamerich grounds of Texas, I pause to say a loud and proud, loving Happy Birthday to my dear old dad, Warren Henry Nugent. Born on this day in 1920 in Detroit, Michigan, dad would have been the big 100 this year!
I know we don’t frame everything in our lives in deerhunting terms (almost) but having just celebrated my 72nd birthday with a deercamp full of incredible Americans as I do every year, I must share the amazing consistency with which so many people communicate with me as to how their birthday celebrations do indeed reference our beloved deerhunting lifestyle more often than not.
Hunting is a very individual, independent loner function for many of us in an otherwise gregarious world. Sure, hunting camp is a powerfully traditional gathering of family and friends, harking back to our very earliest ancestors as we discovered the necessity of teamwork to slay the mighty dinosaurs and giant beasts of prey, but our individual hunting time is almost always a loner experience.
In the modern world of deerhunting, our natural predatory meanderings, swampbusting, woodland forays and ridgerunning pursuits are more often than not a very personal, solo endeavor.
Even though the year is not quite over and we continue to celebrate some great deerhunting as the Christmas Holidays approach, during ThanXgiving with family and friends we can begin to review another year, another tsunami of powerful memories, some great, some not so great, but nonetheless, in the final analysis, how we here in the United States of America have much to be thankful for.
I am ever so thankful to be an American, where life, liberty and our individual pursuit of happiness can still guide our every choice and every dream.
I am well aware of and deeply committed to joyously celebrating any and all beginnings of each year’s hunting seasons whenever and wherever they may occur. With early archery seasons kicking off close to summertime and various state’s early gun openers and early doe seasons erupting here, there and everywhere, it is difficult to keep track of all the deerhunting startup dates around the country.
And of course, more opportunities are always better than fewer opportunities!
Being that as it may, I am equally certain that all my fellow deerhunting maniacs across America know very well and good when all such opportunities take place in our home and destination states, and certainly, they are all special and worthy of serious anticipation and gungho celebration.
By: Ted Nugent
Early November in the heartland truly is a time to rejoice and celebrate our spiritual connection with nature with maximum mucho gusto! According to all my hunting buddies across the land, our deerhunting dreams are alive and well and the Great Spirit of the Wild runs deep and strong.
I think we all know that each and every day hunting can be best described as some of the happiest and most fulfilling days of our lives, and more and more, hunting families in America cherish these soul cleansing times together more passionately and vigorously especially is these trying political times.
Having spent the better part of 2020 stumping for President Donald Trump, I have had the distinct and humbling opportunity to meet with and connect with conservative families here, there and everywhere, and I have come to know, understand and appreciate these fine people with whom we share the traditional American family values of God, family and country.
In each instance, in every city, at every event, I was surrounded by dedicated hunting families, and you would think that the entire presidential campaign pivoted on our hunting culture.
And when you get right down to it, that is exactly what is going on here, for no other demographic better represents our foundational American values than the wonderful families so closely in touch with God’s miraculous creation as hands on conservationists with our hunting, fishing and trapping lifestyle.
What I wish to drive home in this here deeranddeerhunting.com NugeBlog is that for the first time in my lifetime, we have a family in the White House that knows us, respects us, believes in us and is actually one of us.
By: Ted Nugent
How about that incredible and unique feeling of overwhelming joy and relief when we culminate a difficult bloodtrail and finally walk up on our hard-earned prize.
As powerful a Hallelujah moment that there is.
Can you remember every one?
Is there anything else in life quite like the out of body experience when a shooter deer finally enters our ambush domain and we make the serious decision to kill?
I don’t think so.
Do remember them all?
By: Ted Nugent
Rejoice another splendid morning in my favorite Michigan deerwoods, and the spirit soared on high. Acorns were falling, turkeys were yelping, squirrels were running amok and the orgy of glistening fall colors surrounding me cleansed my soul and made me very, very happy.
The lap of God is one of my favorite places to rest.
But no deer. I had waited a full two weeks into the season to hit this historically target rich swamp edge ridge where many a handsome critter have fallen to my arrows for more than 40 years. But alas! Right place right time will always trump clever strategizing and otherwise well laid out bowhunting ambush plans.
With the last sip of hot joe from my thermos, I prepared to dismantle the SpiritWild video camera from its ladderstand perch and begin the gear gathering rituals calling it a morning.
Then the welcome flutter flutter flutter wing beating sounds of descending wild turkeys stopped me cold as four big longbeards landed thirty yards to my right.
OhBoy! Here we go!
By: Ted Nugent
Stop the presses! Release the hounds! Houston, we have Spirit Arrow LIFTOFF! THE DAY of infamy has arrived and the American bowhunting spirit hath risen once again! Sanctuary for the mind, body, spirit and soul is upon us!
Say Hallelujah and Amen brothers and sisters!
Celebrate it like you mean it!
A snarling, growling, singing, howling, joyous, gnashing of teeth Happy Happy October 1, 2020 my fellow mystical flight of the arrow Fred Bear BloodBrothers everywhere! Today, all is good with the world! Everything bad and ugly in life has just been obliterated and momentarily washed away by this magical, mythical, wonderful, long awaited traditional October 1st Opening Day of archery season in many American families’ lives.
I know! I know! Many an arrow has already been unleashed across the land and many backstraps have been lovingly carved from hard earned trophy kills here, there and everywhere as so many hunting seasons have opened up in many states and provinces by now.
But for this old guitarslamming bowhunting addicted backstrapper, and so many others like me, no other day of the year resonates quite so powerfully as October 1!
The Autumnal Equinox builds steam!
By: 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.
By: 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.
By: 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.
By: 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!
By: 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...
By: 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.
By: 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.
By: 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.
By: 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.