From left: Fleetwood, Ted, Rocco and Toby Nugent share a great moment at deer camp. (photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
My head is spinning. How ‘bout yours? Do you have the November Tremble down below? Is your neck swollen freakishly out of proportion to the average earthlings’ physical dimensions? Do you, like me, stop at overhanging braches to wildly rub your eyeballs till it hurts? Do you seek the aroma of fresh urine like I do? Do you stink deliciously? Are your eyes bloodshot? Do you feel intoxicated by a tsunami of adrenalin & Love Potion #69?
Okay, I’m getting maybe a little bit too down and dirty for some of my more stuffy shirt, anal-retentive fellow sporters, so I shall now return to a more somewhat PG-13 mellow mode so no one’s panties get all twisted in a dangerous knot.
There, I got that out of my system, but not really. Every November, me and all my deerhunting buddies, and manOman do I have a lot of deerhunting buddies, we literally go nuts this time of year as if we are spiritually and metaphysically connected to our brother the deer.
Wait a minute, did I say as if we are spiritually and metaphysically connected to our brother the deer? Well forgive me if you will, but I don’t know anybody in the deerhunting world that fails to virtually admit and vivaciously celebrate that of course, we are indeed connected so.
The words; consumed, immersed, passionate, obsessed, addicted, batty, delirious, smitten, blow away, goofy, craving, owned, as one, etc etc all come to mind when The Seasonerupts. But when this magical, mystical, cosmic month of November is upon, everything changes and accelerates and exhilarates our very lives, our breathing, our pulse, our predator radar, our heartbeat, and our natural predator urges surge to a boiling point and we do what we must do. And dear God almighty, ain’t it grand!
Tribe Nuge has a bunch of handsome beasts hanging from the historical buckpole, sacred straps are celebrated on the grill with intoxicating regularity. Campfires and fireplaces do more than just glow and bring physical warmth. There is a phenomenally powerful alignment of our inner and outer planets that peaks now, and we should all look to the heavens every day to thank God we retain this urgent, natural hunting pulse with His miraculous Creation.
Worldclass deerhunting madman 38 year old son Theodore Tobias Nugent (Toby) is in Kansas with some of our fellow addicted deer nuts looking for The Big1:
Toby Nugent with his first bowkill. (photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
25 year old son Rocco Winchester Nugent is in Los Angeles unfortunately missing this season as he charges forth with unbridled passion and desire for his incredible musical and cinematic genius American Dream:
Rocco Nugent has been a lifelong hunter, having shared many successful camps with his mom and dad over the years. (photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
46 year old Theodore Fleetwood Nugent (Fleetwood) is here on our sacred Michigan swampgrounds gearing up for his 2nd annual Excalibur crossbow hunt with me:
Fleetwood Nugent is a relative newcomer to the deer-camp experience, but he loves it just as much as his dad. (photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
Shemane, my beloved Queen of the Forest will be here soon to join me in a deerblind along with daughter Sasha and grandson Caeden to carry on my favorite tradition of all:
At Camp Nuge, everyone gets involved in the fun. (Photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
Little sister Kathy will be here for the big firearm’s opener and I’m hoping brothers Jeff and John will join us soon as deerhunting is the ultimate soul cleanser for these two hard working, great Americans:
Ted Nugent was an altar boy? Yowza! He is shown here back in the day with his sister, Kathy. (photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
My other children and grandchildren are here, there and everywhere, preparing for another special Thanksgiving with friends, family and loved ones.
A very young Sasha Nugent shares a great deer-camp memory with her dad in the fall of 1980. (photo courtesy of Ted Nugent)
I can’t thank the 4.5 million people around the world that join me on my facebook each and every day for the nonstop celebration of venison and The Hunt. And thank all of you that send me photos of your hard earned trophies. For the many millions of people we impact on social media, so many are learning for the very 1st time that all hunting is meat hunting, trophy hunting and sport hunting.
Every hunt is pure sport due to the incredible challenge it always provides.
Every hunt is a meat hunt because we all cherish the hard-earned, sacred, pure, renewable, natural, organic, deeeeeelicious ultimate protein that every kill provides.
And without question, each and every kill is not only respected but revered as the ultimate trophy animal for a gungho dedicated job well done, be it big doe, little doe, giant buck or tiny buck, squirrel, rabbit, dove, pheasant, quail, woodcock, grouse, moose, caribou, bear, elk, pronghorn, hog, goose, duck or woodchuck. Every kill is a trophy. Case closed. Know it.
So happy crazed rut to all my global deerhunting BloodBrothers. Aim small, miss small, think big! Share the spirit, share the flesh, share the joy. I will see you here next week for our official Thanksgiving NugeBlog, but I think we can all admit, that every day is Thanksgiving in the life of deerhunting families everywhere.
Hunt like you mean it. Be safe, goodluck, Godbless, Godspeed, good hunting everyone everywhere.
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