By: Ted Nugent
Well, sonic bombast rockout sweatfest number 6750 is now officially checked off the rock-n-roll calendar, in the books as they say, and I’m still out here going wild across the hinterland! And like every firebreathing gig, number 6750 was phenomenal to say the least.
Thank you, real music lovers everywhere!
Passion and enthusiasm certainly create a dangerous level of adrenalin driven energy every night, but Lord have mercy, if I fail to intelligently manage it, it sure could wear this old backstrapper out real quick like!
Thank God I have this crazy rock-n-roll dream career to throttle my music loving passions every summer in between hunting seasons. It sure does keep me busy and happy and helps keep my mind off the nerve rattling anticipatory excitement of the upcoming fall hunts.
With six more concerts to go in the month of August, my heart beats faster every day as I eagerly await the annual swapping of Gibson Byrdland guitars for my beautiful Mathews bow and quiver full of Gold Tip arrows!
The end of another summertime musical adventure is bitter sweet for sure, but a man has to do what he has to do, and I have to do it!
Both of these wonderful stringed weapons thrill me beyond words, and as I wrap up another amazing summer tour, the lure of the Great Spirit of the Beast calls my name with increasing volume and intensity.
Enthusiasms! It was Al Capone who said “a man has to have enthusiasms!”
The goofball criminal gangster didn’t have many things right in life, but he did know that.
As I staggered out of my plane at 3 in the morning the other day, dedicated to get back to my little Michigan cabin to spend an off day with my beloved dogs and Queen of the Forest wife Shemane, I headed my truck towards the sacred swamp and fought to keep my eyes open late in the night.
The music from the concert was still clanging and banging in my head as I approached my rural farmland driveway gate and slowly turned in. I slowed down to a few miles per hour and idled into the long gravel drive.
Like a gift from God, I hit the radio button on my dashboard, and lo and behold, my song Fred Bear kicked off from the very first note as I entered my land.
At that moment, a big swamp donkey doe jumped into the driveway and stopped and stared at me from only a few yards away to where I had to brake.
She stood and stared with those big, beautiful brown deer eyes as the moving song went into the first verse of my loving tribute to my friend and hero.
“There I was, back in the wild again, felt right at home where I belong…..”
The old girl flicked her white tail and gently stepped off the drive into the cattail edge when up ahead another deer walked into view.
The song played on and I felt an incredible, overpowering spirit presence, as if Fred was welcoming me home and helping me escape the relentless music for a soul cleansing moment.
I’m telling you, it was a mystical, magical sensation.
The small buck in front of me gazed back into my eyes, the song played on, and a total sense of calming came over me that is best described as out of body!
The Fred Bear song is a longer piece, much longer than it would have taken me to finish the drive to the cabin, but I was compelled to go real slow to take it all in.
As I came to the curve in the drive, a misty, gentle fog rolled across my path from my little duck pond and another deer emerged like a smoky apparition.
Though I was somewhat flabbergasted by the unfolding events and images that so perfectly coincided with the pulse and spirit of the song, I merely grinned a Cheshire grin accepting that the whole thing was not a dream, but real, good and everything it appeared to be.
Rocking myself into oblivion every year of my life demands intelligent prioritization and lifestyle choices.
To go full-on gonzo into my music necessitates a high degree of balance and musical diversion.
Thank God I was smart enough in my otherwise rebellious youth to turn down the ubiquitous scourge of substance abuse, and there is no doubt at all that my choice to remain clean and sober was absolutely life-saving.
I’ve said it a thousand times that if Elvis and Jimi Hendrix would have been bowhunters, they would still be alive today, for the soul cleansing, spirit stimulation of pursuing oneness with God’s natural creation will force good choices in order to better connect with the critters.
In essence, the critters saved my life.
Looking forward to each fall hunting season guided me to pursue excellence and that higher level of awareness necessary to be a killer guitar player and a killer bowhunter. Both literally and figuratively.
The pursuit of excellence in any endeavor leaves no room for stoned or drunk buffoonery.
The eternal stack of corpses tells no lies.
I get so enthralled, high if you will, when in the presence of wildlife that it overwhelms all other considerations and thought processes.
As I putted slowly the last few yards to my cabin, the Fred Bear song came to a soulful, crescendo finale. I punched off the radio, and went straight to the kennels to let Happy, Sadie and Coco out for the most wonderful hugging, kissing, yelping, whining, barking man-dog love-fest ever.
My fatigue dissipated. My breathing and heartrate calmed further yet, and I stepped lightly with my mind, body, soul and spirit saturated with the healing powers of the great Spirit of the Wild.
Never take nature for granted, and never underestimate the unlimited unique powers that are available to us as hunters.
May The Great Spirit be forever at your side, and may she guide us to a better place every day.
Passion and enthusiasm certainly create a dangerous level of adrenalin driven energy every night, but Lord have mercy, if I fail to intelligently manage it, it sure could wear this old backstrapper out real quick like!
Thank God I have this crazy rock-n-roll dream career to throttle my music loving passions every summer in between hunting seasons. It sure does keep me busy and happy and helps keep my mind off the nerve rattling anticipatory excitement of the upcoming fall hunts.
With six more concerts to go in the month of August, my heart beats faster every day as I eagerly await the annual swapping of Gibson Byrdland guitars for my beautiful Mathews bow and quiver full of Gold Tip arrows!
The end of another summertime musical adventure is bitter sweet for sure, but a man has to do what he has to do, and I have to do it!
Both of these wonderful stringed weapons thrill me beyond words, and as I wrap up another amazing summer tour, the lure of the Great Spirit of the Beast calls my name with increasing volume and intensity.
Enthusiasms! It was Al Capone who said “a man has to have enthusiasms!”
The goofball criminal gangster didn’t have many things right in life, but he did know that.
As I staggered out of my plane at 3 in the morning the other day, dedicated to get back to my little Michigan cabin to spend an off day with my beloved dogs and Queen of the Forest wife Shemane, I headed my truck towards the sacred swamp and fought to keep my eyes open late in the night.
The music from the concert was still clanging and banging in my head as I approached my rural farmland driveway gate and slowly turned in. I slowed down to a few miles per hour and idled into the long gravel drive.
Like a gift from God, I hit the radio button on my dashboard, and lo and behold, my song Fred Bear kicked off from the very first note as I entered my land.
At that moment, a big swamp donkey doe jumped into the driveway and stopped and stared at me from only a few yards away to where I had to brake.
She stood and stared with those big, beautiful brown deer eyes as the moving song went into the first verse of my loving tribute to my friend and hero.
“There I was, back in the wild again, felt right at home where I belong…..”
The old girl flicked her white tail and gently stepped off the drive into the cattail edge when up ahead another deer walked into view.
The song played on and I felt an incredible, overpowering spirit presence, as if Fred was welcoming me home and helping me escape the relentless music for a soul cleansing moment.
I’m telling you, it was a mystical, magical sensation.
The small buck in front of me gazed back into my eyes, the song played on, and a total sense of calming came over me that is best described as out of body!
The Fred Bear song is a longer piece, much longer than it would have taken me to finish the drive to the cabin, but I was compelled to go real slow to take it all in.
As I came to the curve in the drive, a misty, gentle fog rolled across my path from my little duck pond and another deer emerged like a smoky apparition.
Though I was somewhat flabbergasted by the unfolding events and images that so perfectly coincided with the pulse and spirit of the song, I merely grinned a Cheshire grin accepting that the whole thing was not a dream, but real, good and everything it appeared to be.
Rocking myself into oblivion every year of my life demands intelligent prioritization and lifestyle choices.
To go full-on gonzo into my music necessitates a high degree of balance and musical diversion.
Thank God I was smart enough in my otherwise rebellious youth to turn down the ubiquitous scourge of substance abuse, and there is no doubt at all that my choice to remain clean and sober was absolutely life-saving.
I’ve said it a thousand times that if Elvis and Jimi Hendrix would have been bowhunters, they would still be alive today, for the soul cleansing, spirit stimulation of pursuing oneness with God’s natural creation will force good choices in order to better connect with the critters.
In essence, the critters saved my life.
Looking forward to each fall hunting season guided me to pursue excellence and that higher level of awareness necessary to be a killer guitar player and a killer bowhunter. Both literally and figuratively.
The pursuit of excellence in any endeavor leaves no room for stoned or drunk buffoonery.
The eternal stack of corpses tells no lies.
I get so enthralled, high if you will, when in the presence of wildlife that it overwhelms all other considerations and thought processes.
As I putted slowly the last few yards to my cabin, the Fred Bear song came to a soulful, crescendo finale. I punched off the radio, and went straight to the kennels to let Happy, Sadie and Coco out for the most wonderful hugging, kissing, yelping, whining, barking man-dog love-fest ever.
My fatigue dissipated. My breathing and heartrate calmed further yet, and I stepped lightly with my mind, body, soul and spirit saturated with the healing powers of the great Spirit of the Wild.
Never take nature for granted, and never underestimate the unlimited unique powers that are available to us as hunters.
May The Great Spirit be forever at your side, and may she guide us to a better place every day.