By Ted Nugent
“There is no question that my mind, body, spirit and soul is hardwired to hunt. It is who I am.” I hunt because I am a hunter. Period. Case closed. Have a nice day. Drive safely. Now that we have that straight, let’s expound upon, examine, admit to and celebrate all the glorious reality, facts and irrefutable evidence that makes us hunters, or better yet, who made us hunters.
The miracle of nature, or what we of faith lovingly refer to as God’s wonderful creation, is a force to reckon with. In fact, nature is the force to reckon with if we are to work with her and conduct ourselves in an honest, responsible fashion. How we respectfully work hand-in-hand with nature as conscientious stewards of all her bounty and power is the essence of life. Our very existence is determined by our intelligent, caring management and utility of all nature has to offer. From nature comes food, water, shelter, clothing, weapons, heat, medicine, music, art, mobility, adventure, fun and everything that makes up the heartbeat of man, beast and the good Mother Earth.
And of course, those of us genuinely connected with the natural world know all too well that nature heals. I call it The Spirit of the Wild. It is that powerful.
A good farmer chooses his life in a natural, instinctive response to a deep, soulful calling to work the ground. Sure, they grow the food that feeds the world, but that is not why they farm. They farm because they are farmers, from the bottom of their feet to the top of their heads. These days, those hardy souls that pursue their love of dirt and growing things are producing more and better food on but a fraction of the acreage from yesteryear. This is a direct result of men who were meant to be farmers being so dedicated, so consumed with their calling, that they put their hearts and souls every day into their careers, and this drive for excellence feeds the world aplenty.
Men log because they are loggers. The spirit of the woods beckons them to do their handiwork with this amazing natural resource so mankind can build. That today there is more standing board feet of timber on private and corporate property than at any time in recorded history is a testament to real-world stewardship in action. Planting more than is harvested is not rocket science, just good sense and smart management when you live the life.
My craving for all things wild kicked in at the earliest of age when I first noticed my surroundings. There is no question that my mind, body, spirit and soul is hardwired to hunt. It is what I am. From my earliest memories, I whittled spears, bows, arrows, knives, slingshots and snares. The mere sighting of a bird or animal throttled my entire being. I wanted to get close. I wanted to intimately know each creature. I wanted to try to kill it. My instinct to hunt is as pure as my need to breathe. As reasoning predators, we come to grips early on with sustain yield productivity and stewardship responsibilities, and through our ever-growing fascination with wildlife, we pragmatically determine at what rates which species produce and the varying dynamic needs for diverse habitat. Simple, pure stuff.
The greatest compliment we can bestow upon someone is that they are “grounded.” Solid, reliable, logical, in touch with one’s surroundings, conscientious, tuned in and ready for anything. And surely, no other lifestyle will better prepare us, educate us and force us to a higher level of awareness than the hunting lifestyle. We who seriously hunt, fish and trap with all we got are literally one with the ground. We are truly “grounded,” for it is the shared ground upon which we stalk and maneuver with our beloved wildlife that drives our very being. I know it does for me and all my hardcore hunting friends. We would have it no other way.
Our human species survived, developed, progressed and thrived based upon our talents for killing game and sustaining our tribes. There is no doubt in my mind that today, in the ultra-modern world of convenience and cush, there are still nearly 30 million hunters in America because we know in our guts that this is the last, best, purest, most natural activity possible that fulfills us physically and spiritually, that provides us the finest, healthiest protein available on earth, and is the absolute most positive environmental activity there is. Most importantly, we know that hunting is absolutely mandatory for the balancing management of nature.
We know that Thanksgiving is in November because we thank God for the life-giving bounty of His natural season of harvest every year. We know that allowing soulless bureaucrats to waste yet more untold tax dollars by hiring so called sharp-shooters and USDA “hunters” to waste our precious wildlife is a curse of dishonest, vulgar disconnect. We know that this pathetic, willful disconnect with the natural order of things by the animal right’s and anti-hunting cults of denial is an indictment of the rudeness of nature-hating fools and hypocrites.
We know that the government didn’t come up with game laws, hunting regulations or bag limits. These came about when real “we the people” hunters demanded the end of the gluttonous, irresponsible slaughter by market shooters, and we insisted on the science of sustain yield and wise use based on population dynamics and habitat carrying capacity. We know that renewable natural wildlife resources should always be in the asset column, not the liability column.
With more deer, elk, black bears, cougars, wild turkey and geese than ever in recorded history, and nearly all game species thriving at record levels across North America, this perfect, natural function of hunting has irrefutably proven to be the finest resource management success story in the history of humankind.
The ultimate connection with wildlife is through the hands-on conservation lifestyle of hunting. It is this deep and abiding connection that all good hunters espouse and cherish. We have a reverence for all things wild, and there simply is no Plan B. I’m with Sitting Bull. If the time comes when there are no more deer, elk or buffalo on the prairies, in the forests or mountains, then I will hunt mice. For I am a hunter, and I must hunt.
When the air changes in the glorious autumn each year, the leaves begin to color, and the waterfowl begin to stage for their migration, I feel it. When the deer and elk begin to stir restlessly as the breeding season changes the taste of the wind, I change as well. I flow with the barometric alterations, as if I am one with the hills, woods and swamps. It is in me. I am a part of it all. I cannot not hunt.
I hunt because I am a hunter…that’s all that needs to be said.
