By: Ted Nugent
I may as well have been deep in the bowels of primordial Africa, stalking a jungle ridge hunting for lions or elephants. The goosebumps on my goosebumps were proof of my inner tingling and borderline uncontrollable excitement.
But I wasn’t in Africa, and there were no lions, tigers, elephants or bears anywhere nearby.
I was sitting quietly atop a glacier cut ridgeline above my sacred Michigan swamp, nestled beneath a towering forest of mature oaks, maples, hickory, beach, cherry, tulip poplars and various deciduous and coniferous hardwoods and softwoods, trusty old Remington Model 41 TargetMaster .22 bolt rifle in hand, scouring the leafy canopy for those pesky bushytails of my youth.
Squirrel hunting! Lord I love squirrel hunting!
I hunt squirrels with my Mathews bow, an old Remington single-shot rifle, a Smith & Wesson .22 revolver, a shotgun and my daily carry Glock 10mm.
And I love it all.
Though my cravings for the deerwoods with my Mathews oftentimes consume my fall and winter days, I still maximize my hunting time with Happy, Sadie and Coco for rabbits, doves, pigeons, pheasants, and of course ducks and geese, but they love squirrel hunting just as much as I do.
The Nugent family diet is serious stuff, and all these yummy critters are cherished as the ultimate healthy tablefare and rocketfuel for the mind, body, spirit and soul.
There is so much great hunting to be had all across America, it is disheartening to witness the abandonment of the great outdoors by so many young people, and even by old hunters that just don’t go for it as much anymore.
I for one would sure like to see a dedicated resurgence back into the wild again, for we all know that the more time we spend cleansing our souls in the great outdoors, the better fortified we are to deal with an ever-increasing stressful world around us.
Those of us that still diligently pursue these incredible outdoor sports should turn up the heat to get family, friends, coworkers, fellow students and everyone we know to get it on.
God knows the youth of America could use a major dose of the healing powers of Mother Nature to learn how to get high on the natural world instead of the self-inflicted mind-numbing zombie apocalypse that modern technology foments.
I zapped a couple of limbrats this morning with the old .22 to add to the Nugent larder, and was able to scout a few new deer hot spots for my next deerhunt.
I flushed a gaggle of wood ducks on the meandering woodland creek and saw muskrats, an otter, a beaver, a mink and way too many songbirds to list. Cock pheasants sounded off beyond the cattails, and a bald eagle and red-tailed hawk soared overhead.
All in all, it was a phenomenal morning in the lap of God that delivered an unlimited array of sensual and spiritual stimuli for the old guitarplayer.
Get out there every chance you can. Ma Nature loves you and can’t wait to see you again. She will always show you a goodtime.