Ravings of the Predator Kind

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Ted Nugent

Silence. Stillness. Clarity. Life.

Could there possibly be any other situation or environment as peaceful, raw, primal and perfect as a treestand? No.

If ever there was a place where we can be at once poised to pounce and kill, yet nearly comatose, in suspended animation, flatline-like relaxed, it is the soul-cleansing peaceful perch of our predator ambush throne.

God knows I have maximized my tree time for 65 years so far, and yes, after prolonged vigils where no game is seen, boredom does indeed become a real threat. But if one dedicates oneself to truly appreciating such abundant blessings, boredom can’t hold a candle to the buzz of nature and the ensuing stimuli that surround us in the lap of God.


I know a lot of bowhunters who don’t even bother hunting until the pre-rut is imminent. They wait for the fall solstice to get critters moving better in order to optimize their chances of a close encounter and the reward of straps.

With the curse of a two-week vacation allotment so typical in America, it surely is wise to wait for the best two weeks —wiser yet to take more time off.  After all, how much stuff does one need?

For me, there is simply no way on God’s good green earth that a mere 14 days, or 60 or a hundred for that matter, could possibly tame the savage predator beast in this old guitarboy.

I figured it out a long time ago in my bowhunting-addicted youth that my life would be balanced and prioritized between brutal, ferocious Chuck Berry-inspired rock-n-roll gone mad and the magic time in the woods with my bow and arrows. Good Lord! Can a kid get any luckier than that? No.

Let me make it perfectly clear that I work my ass off royally all year long. I still perform roughly 80 dangerously high-energy concerts every summer, (down from 350 a year in my youth) conduct powerhouse media interviews nonstop throughout the year, promoting logic and self-evident truth while obliterating the lying, leftist, America-hating scum with crowbars of evidence and history.  I write New York Times Best Seller books, write hundreds of articles for conservative websites and many great sporting publications. I compose killer love songs all year long, train uppity Labrador retrievers, cater to Mrs. Nugent incessantly, constantly communicate with kids and grandkids and family and elected officials nationwide, work on trucks, and tractors, and lawnmowers and ATVs, sight-in guns, test guns and ammo, train with guns, conduct charity work for every imaginable children’s and military charity, fill feeders, fix fence, run a year-round trap line, produce our award winning Ted Nugent Spirit of the Wild TV show for Outdoor Channel and others, record killer records, and amongst all this ultra-fun insanity, I still make sure I hunt 300 days a year.


You see, that entire list of adventure happens to take place at home, on our beloved SpiritWild Ranch in central Texas. Except for the touring part, and then even a lot of those days as well, it is all handled at home.


With more than 6,500 concerts under my belt, I literally hate to travel. So many, many years ago, I decided I would live where I hunt, and hunt where I live.

It’s all at home. Unlimited hog hunting, varmint hunting, exotic hunting, rabbit hunting, squirrel hunting, and year-round trapping represents the only hopeful  cure or antidote for my insatiable hunting cravings.

I know of a select few who have it as bad/good as I do. Razor Dobbs of Razor Dobbs Alive TV on Outdoor Channel is just about as hunt-crazy as I am. He, too, lives on a piece of sacred, unlimited Texas hunting grounds, and he never stops.

My other blood-brother, Scott Young, is a professional and very deadly USDA-paid hunter who never quits. His hearty pack of Rocky Mountain bluetick hounds surely run and chase and tree and kill more bears and cougars than any pack of hounds that ever lived. This guy is a killer.

These surely are the good old days of hunting in North America and beyond. It is a target rich environment for those of us who are driven to participate in the annual seasons of harvest, as we balance the herds and the land, keeping our precious renewable wildlife resources in the asset column of life.

I don’t want to hunt. I need to hunt. I hunt because I am a hunter. I’m doing God’s work here. We pay the way while feeding ourselves and families and fellow man the most nutritious protein the world has to offer. Kill em and grill ya all. Let the game never end.

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