By: Ted Nugent
Meat hunters are perfect conservationists. Sport hunters are perfect conservationists. Casual hunters are perfect conservationists. Gungho hunters are perfect conservationists. And shout it out loud and proud, trophy hunters are perfect conservationists!
The mere act of purchasing a hunting license, the gargantuan spending orgy on all the plethora of sporting gear and associated taxes, the vast related economy of food, lodging, travel, fuel, supplies, groceries, restaurants, ATVs, trucks, cabins, land, foodplot seed, fertilizer, tractors, equipment, guides, outfitters, taxidermists, and assorted gear are all about as perfect of a value based wise use conservation of these sacred renewable resources as we humans can accomplish.
The globally celebrated and conclusively proven sound science based American wildlife conservation model of pay as you go has brought back game populations from the brink of extinction following the unregulated wanton marketing slaughter of yore, to the healthiest, thriving game populations in the history of mankind.
The meat hunter, of which I am proud to be, pays our way, balances the herds and brings home the bacon.
The sport hunter, of which I am, pursues game, pays our way and balances the herds and brings home the bacon.
The casual hunter, of which I am not, though may or may not bag enough game consistently enough to balance herds, does indeed pay their way supporting the game departments and vast economy associated with their outdoor fun. Family hours of recreation, whether taking game or not, is indeed perfect conservation.
The gungo hunter, of which I personify, is really good at balancing the herds and spends obscene gobs of money fueling the vast associated economy while bringing home a goodly portion of the annual surplus of the venison, not only for our families and friends, but for many charities across the land in desperate need of meat.
So perfect I can hardly stand it!
The trophy hunter, of which I occasionally luck into qualifying as, is rock solid in the asset column of wildlife conservation.
The trophy hunter is ultra-selective in the game they harvest, waiting indescribably patiently for a crack at the oldest, oftentimes over the hill, beyond breeding impact on the herd males. These trophy critters are the oldest, wisest, most elusive and difficult to kill animals on earth, usually sporting the most impressive antlers and horns of their species.
And let us make one enormous fact perfectly clear-trophy hunters do not kill trophy animals just to chop off their heads to mount on the wall. Are there some soulless fleebs out there who violate gamelaws and ethics to do so? Of course there are. Our human species has always been infested with a lunatic fringe bottomfeeder gang of dirtbag fleebs that commit all sorts of illegal, stupid and immoral atrocities. They are not trophy hunters! They are gamelaw violators that all hunters despise and pay to catch and punish.
Trophy hunters are borderline maniacal in their dedicated pursuit of the most difficult old males of the herd, but know for certain that they treasure the super hard-earned venison just like the meat hunter, the casual hunter, the gungho hunter and the sport hunters do.
It was the hunting families of America that created the demand for intelligently regulated, sustain yield, sound science gamelaws that includes the wanton waste laws making it a crime to waste the sacred venison of the hunt.
The horrible, lying, dishonest propaganda media of the world has done a phenomenal job of brainwashing the citified, comfortably numb, embarrassingly disconnected populations of the world in all sorts of dangerous ways, but when it comes to intentionally misrepresenting our perfect, honorable hunting culture, they rival the Joseph Goebbels Nazi propaganda ministry of repeating a lie often enough to become the norm in a mushy brained society.
Another laughable lie from the soulless fakenews media fleebs is that trophy hunting depletes the herds of the strongest males, thereby weakening the genetic fortitude of the species.
Hunters across America set world records every year for many categories of big game, indisputable proof that the herds are getting stronger and healthier due to the simple fact that hunting conservation is good for wildlife and nature.
It is the hunting families of America that pay for the enforcement of our gamelaws and the first to absolutely condemn any poacher caught committing the act of illegally chopping off an animals head and leaving the meat to rot.
Trophy hunters do not do that.
The many stunning heads on my walls were killed simply because I put in so much time hunting, I very luckily stumble into a trophy caliber critter once on a while.
Add to that element of luck, the fact that I hunt so much that I am able to be a little bit selective in my kills, allowing me to pass up on younger animals in hopes that an older trophy might show up.
And sometimes, eventually they do!
I know many trophy hunters that I have to supply venison for each year because they never got a crack at a trophy animal and simply didn’t kill a deer.
Luckily their old Uncle Ted has them covered.
Never forget, the old adage; trophy is in the eye of the beholder! Ultimate proof of this are the 1st two whitetails I bowkilled long ago, both the yearling doe and trophy buttonbuck fawn are mounted of my cabin wall. As all trophies do, they represent a flood of stunning, joyous memories of those wonderful hunts and hard-earned kills.
Seeing as how every critter I bag represents the ultimate trophy to me, I guess I am in fact a trophy hunter.
Every year my killer taxidermist Mark Ditzel mounts beautiful deer fir many Midwest hunters, including yearling spikes, forkhorns, small six pointers, and dozens and dozens of small, young bucks that mean the world to those lucky hunters. These deer end up on the wall, their sacred venison is cherished by their families, and that beautiful wildlife art they look up at everytime they enter the room brings back glowing memories of the hunt, and makes them very, very happy.
Can any trophy do more?