I’m Ted Nugent, And I’m A Hunter       

Ted Nugent gives us the scoop on his long history of hunting and love for the “mystical flight of the arrow”.

Dirty hands make for a stronger heart and a cleaner soul. I just made that up. Well, I didn’t really make it up per se, but after a lifetime intentionally maximizing my adventures in wild places, it certainly has provided me a wealth of real estate under my fingernails, and the resultant dirt factor in my life has clearly increased my quality of life and happiness; Hence, my stronger heart and cleaner soul. It is an inescapable forgone conclusion the way I see it and live it. I am Ted Nugent and I am a hunter.

I am not claiming to be no Davy Crockett or Sitting Bull by any stretch of the imagination, but for a Detroit guitar player born in the firestorm of the Industrial Revolution smack dab in the middle of the Motor City “Arsenal of Democracy” in 1948, I have accomplished a phenomenal balance twixt the modern gonzo metropolitan electronic concrete hell rock-n-roll hand-to-hand combat zone juxtaposed with the timeless soul-cleansing primal goo of the world’s swamps, forests, lakes, rivers, marshes, deserts, jungles, mountains, farmlands, and tundra Spirit of the Wild as an actual functioning participant in nature, I figure my Down To Earth quota is substantial if not downright lifesaving.

I perform my we the people hell raising duties each and every day, complete my ranch chores, and unleash a series of dangerous freedom-celebrating guitar licks, then I immediately head for the bow-and-arrow mancave arsenal and carefully and cautiously move stealthily into the Zen of aboriginal territory where the subconscious guides me from the physical world into the spiritual zone.

It is then and there the that all is good with the world.

I was able to share again today on social media more of the never-ending lessons available to the critical thinkers amongst us as I switched from my old Fred Bear recurve bows back and forth with my state-of-the-art Mathews compound bow on the range.

So many current bowhunters in America were introduced to the mystical flight of the arrow straight into the modern compound bow world, and there is nothing wrong with that at all. In fact it is totally wonderful!

Some of the most deadly and proficient bowhunters on earth have never touched a recurve or longbow, and they have found a genuine love affair with these fascinating mechanical devices that still provide a pure archery high.

But to the man and woman who I have convinced to go old school, once they discover that wonderful instinctual hand-eye coordination of original oneness with the simple bow and arrow, their accuracy and comfort level with compound bows goes through the ceiling.

There is something about the natural extension of old traditional bows that force us to discover our inner, natural point of aim, not unlike the skill developed with a baseball or football after extended, dedicated practice and dedication.

Shooting an old-fashioned bow instinctively with no sights at close range literally brings out an inner Samurai focus that when applied to a modern compound bow with sight-pins, peep-site, and mechanical-release aid, will dramatically improve our imprinted shot sequence and overall accuracy.

 I for one make it a point throughout the year to shoot my old Bear recurves often, and the apparent improved accuracy with my Mathews is instant, extreme, and extremely gratifying.

Do not deny yourself the ultimate escape from the modern world as often as you can muster, for closer to the bone, down and dirty, back to our origins, down to earth, grounded, primordial, will not only better prepare you for our sacred fall season of harvest but will indeed serve us well to fortify us for the ever-increasing insanity the world hits us upside the head with more and more each and every day.

Go ahead, be Ishi, be Cochise, be Sitting Bull, be Fred Bear! Be down to earth! Get that graceful, lightweight, effortlessly drawn bare bow, and make every arrow the arrow, then watch your compound killing range increase post haste. May the backstraps flow like manna from heaven. Be the silent primal scream!