# Ted Nugent-Happy Fall 09



## Renegade (Sep 11, 2007)

*Reprinted at the request and with the permission of the author
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HAPPY HUNT SEASON 2009 AMERICA by Ted Nugent

Feel it? Hear it? Smell it? Sense it? Rejoice it and celebrate it. ‘Tis the season to unleash the beast and turn up the pure predator fire in the soul of man. Well at least in the souls of those of us smart and honest enough to heed the call. There is no question that the hunting season is what makes the rest of our lives tick. The act of seeking food during this natural season of harvest is the last, perfect earthly, environmentally beneficial activity that is as pure as life itself. To the woods, mountains, forests, swamps, marshes, fens and deserts of America my BloodBrothers. It is that magical, mystical moving moment in time where the planets align and everything is dreamy. Tooth, fang and claw is alive and well, and it is erupting in all its natural glory across North America right now, and thank God that whatever forces brought you here, we are the lucky, chosen ones who continue this primal scream of self sufficiency, hands on conservation and blessed resource stewardship. Like the backstraps of our rewards, it is perfect, it is pure, it is natural and it is ours. Lock and load my friends! The beasts call our name and it is time to kill. Let’s get it on.

This will be my 60th hunting season. Thank God I was born into a hunting family. My dear old dad was already a protégé of Fred Bear up in Michigan home, and I was baptized into the wild before my 1st birthday. Even though I wasn’t actually hunting as an infant, I am most certain that the hunting camp environment imprinted powerfully upon me, and I consider myself a chosen one. Like most of you, I cannot live without hunting. It is indeed my life. Sure, my musical and writing career are powerful, life defining forces, and God, family and country always comes first, but my sacred hunting time is right up there with priority priorities, that’s for sure.

In fact, I doubt you know many people who have hunted everyday of nearly every season since the mid 1970’s. And you know what, I feel not one spit of guilt. It was a conscientious decision to bring maximum enjoyment and stimuli to my American Dream. And what a brilliant choice it was. So many of my musical peers have perished due to their lack of prioritization, and there is a lesson to be learned. Life is not about “stuff’. Life is about living. Living strong, confident, smart and complete. By the way, for those not paying attention, clean and sober is the only way to maximize life. Know it, live it, shout it, spread it. Drooling, stumbling, puking and dying do not a party make. Live it up.

As a young hellbent rocker, I was a fish out of water in my feeble attempt to flex any meaningful predator touch with bow, gun, trap or fishing pole. I was clumsy, impatient, noisy and pretty much an un coordinated fumblebum. Through mostly trial and error and some expert, blessed guidance by my dad, uncles, cousin Mark, and great masters like Fred Bear, Ron Chamberlain, Russ Bengal, George Nicholls, Marv Leslie, Claude Pollington and others, I eventually discovered the graceful “ballet” of predatorship, and actually began to bring home the bacon.

I will never forget my 1st whitetail in my Northern Michigan National Forest on opening day 1969. Using my dad’s pre-1964 Model 70 Winchester .308, I bagged a handsome button buck deep in the forest. You would think I had killed Godzilla his bad self I was so overjoyed. That mounted fawn is still on my bunkhouse wall.

Then just a year or so later, scored my 1st deer with my Bear takedown recurve, and as they say, the rest is backstrap history.

With the bombardment of increased pressures from a maniacal hi-energy touring life, I was touched by the hand of God in 1973 to take a break from 300+ intense concerts a year, and head into the Colorado Rockies to cleanse my soul. And I never looked back. I drove my managers berserk by turning down tens of millions of dollars in income as they gasped at my decision to hunt the rut instead of tour. They were dismayed. I was happy. They remain dismayed. I remain very, very happy.

Taking off the rut morphed into taking off the entire season in just a few years, to the point where I extended my hunting time exponentially until my “season” kicked off by September 1st each year, and rarely did I begin rocking again until March or so. In fact, I also increased my spring bear and turkey hunting time to where I now hunt at least eight glorious months every year. In the year 2009, it is a 12 month backstr5ap jihad. Thank You Lord. Thank You, thank You, thank You!

So whether you are a radical extremist backstrapper like me, or just love your occasional weekend in the wild, I know you feel the same primal urgings that I do. May you dig deep and discover the prioritizational wherewithal to extend and maximize your cherished hunting time. May you discover ASAP that we don’t need more stuff, we need more time. May you look out your windows on a dark, overcast day, dream about the woods that you love, and sit down and make a list of how exactly you are going to do it. Set that alarm earlier, make those plans more rigid. Gather family and friends around a firepit and strategize how you want, no, how you need to get out there. Make a list of what you don’t need, so you have the freedom and resources to get what you truly do need. You can do it. I know you can. You know you can. Get tuff. Get real. We only live once. Hunt like you mean it.

Happy hunting season American BloodBrothers. May your arrows and bullets fly true. May you aim small and miss small. May you envelop the Great Spirit of the Wild deep into your very being. May you soul be cleansed each and every day beyond the pavement. May your freezers be full of pure, healthy, natural protein. May your passion be latched onto by your family, friends, coworkers and fellow church goers. May the Great Spirit rub off onto all who you know so that they too will celebrate this wonderful lifestyle. May animal right’s goons feel unbearable angst and anguish at the thought that more and more American families are becoming true environmentalists by maximizing value through utility. May members of PeTa commit hare kare and flop like so many gutshot vermin. May the truly caring and smart amongst us see the truth of nature and our perfect, effective positive hands on relationship with her. May the soup kitchens of America overflow with venison. May more and more Labrador retrievers shake in giddy anticipation of a leg stretching, incoming greenhead. May the sunrise behind your deer blind warm the soul of a youngster. May you fall in love again with the greatest sport of mankind. Good hunting, good fishing, good trapping, good living to you all. We are BloodBrothers. Now get out there and stay out there.

For more Nugent, visit tednugent.com


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## wyogoob (Sep 7, 2007)

Thanks, that was great. 

I could just see him speak every word.


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## BIG-TNT (Oct 19, 2007)

That Rock,s Thank,s for sharing..


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## mikevanwilder (Nov 11, 2008)

Beautiful, just beautiful


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## woollybugger (Oct 13, 2007)

Just what the doctor ordered!!!

I love fall - the best time of the year!


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