Archive for the 'Bowhunting' Category

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Published by archerchick on 06 Sep 2010

Bad Day At Ft. Campbell – By Keith Jimmerson


ARCHERY WORLD – APRIL 1988
Bad Day At Ft. Campbell

What do you do when your long-time friend and hunting partner has a bad day
in the deer woods? Do you offer encouragement and moral support…..or do you collapse
in a fit of laughter? Well, here’s what happened to two Tennessee bowhunters at Ft. Campbell last year……..

By Keith Jimmerson
Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to get our
of bed, even if it is hunting season and
you are hunting over a deer run that
looks like the Indianapolis 500. My long-time
hunting partner Don Wagner (who, in
my opinion, happens to be one of the best
hunters in the state) had one of those mornings
this past season. I have seen Don hunt whole
seasons without screwing up as much as he
did that one morning.
We were hunting the Ft. Campbell military reservation
for deer. Ft. Campbell has
plenty of deer and plenty of big bucks, but not
many of the big bucks are killed in the bow-
hunting areas. A hunter has to be drawn for
his choice of area. and we had discovered that
we got our choice only about one-third of the
time. This results in a lot of hunters hunting
areas they are not accustomed to. Also, no
pre-season scouting is allowed; scouting must
be done during hunting time. These factors
add up to a big advantage for the deer and they
are also the reason why the bowhunting areas
have more than their share of big bucks.
This year Don and I had approached hunting
Ft. Campbell from a different angle. We
applied for one of the less desirable bowhunting
areas and we got it. Our area had plenty of
deer, but it was smaller, more remote, and
was mostly pines and overgrown fields. We
spent the first two weekends learning the lay
of the land and patterning the deers’ movement.
This was made difficult by the honeysuckle vines,
which were up to 9 feet high in
places with deer trails going through them.
We quickly discovered most of the other
hunters were hunting logging roads and the
edges of this year’s clearcuts. We also discovered
that the good bucks were avoiding these
areas until after dark.

It was our second weekend of scouting
Light rain and cool temperatures ! The
weather was perfect for deer hunting.

When we found the spot we wanted to hunt. It
was an area which was extra thick in vines
with a lot of saplings growing up between the
pines. As I wedged my way through, I popped
into a clearin?g instead of honeysuckte, this
opening -had been claimed by thick, low-lying
creeper vines, leaving a relatively clear area
roughly 30 yards wide and 80 yards long. The
saplings growing in the opening were torn all
to pieces, gouged, rubbed and bent over. It
was a remote area with buck sign everywhere.

Don and I began picking and setting up spots.
Don has always hunted for the big buck and I
have always hunted for deer. I ended up at the
far end of the clearing, back in the-woods
about two trees off the edge. I had trails in
abundance and could shoot into the edge of
the clearing with ease. Don was 100 yards
away in the thickest part with buck sign all
over and an exceptionally heavy trail winding
underneath his big pine tree.

The following weekend (with expectations
high) we woke to a light rain and cooler temperatures
(mid-30s). We hurriedly ate breakfast and
talked about what a perfect day it was
for bowhunting. As we approached our area in
the dark, Don told me to cut by his stand on
my way out if I had any luck. I wished him
luck and angled off to my stand. With dawn
came the deer, but they were all too small or
slightly out of range until 8:00 a.m. when a
plump doe crossed my trail at 10 yards. By the
time I field dressed her, rigged her to my drag
sling and dragged her by (within 30 yard+)
Don’s treestand, it was near 9:00. I gave Don
the high sign as I went by and he returned it,
but he looked beat. His camouflage paint,
even at that distance, looked streaked and his
appearance was that of a man “tuckered out,”

Don scaled the tree again and again, until
he was wringing wet with sweat.

I knew a logging road lay a quarter mile
south of my position, so my deer and I headed
that way. As I came upon the logging road, I
met two of the base MP’s who double as game
wardens. After checking my permit and license,
one of the MP’s offered to help me drag
my deer to the truck; After thanking him, I
drove to the checking station, hung my deer
and fixed lunch. Around 2:00 p.m- I headed
back to the area to wait on darkness and my
hunting partner. As I approached the area, I
saw Don sprawled out with his gear fanned
out around him. Knowing Don’s tenacity, I
Figured he had gotten a deer, probably a-big
buck.

“Where’s the deer?” I yelled as I pulled
up. Don slowly straightened up, accepted the
cold drink I offered him and proceeded to tell
me his sad tale.

Oops. . .

Early that morning, after we parted to find
our spots, Don worked his way over to the big
pine tree and realized he had left his tree step
pouch off his gear belt. I was astonished to
hear this, since Don is the most meticulously
organized person I know, with a separate
compartment for all of his gear. When he
comes down from his tree at dark, he puts
every piece of gear in its particular place, the
same place every time, his rope neatly folded,
his tree stand strapped securely to his back.
This may not seem like such a feat to some of
you but to me it has always seemed like a major
accomplishment. I am always disorganized and
while I usually have everything I
need, I have to hunt for it. Anyway, after I quit
laughing over Don forgetting his steps, he
went on with his story.

Poor Don had hugged that wet pine tree
and pulled himself up toward the limbs 15 feet
above his head. Once there, he discovered
these low limbs on his pine tree were dead and
wouldn’t support his weight. After another
five feet of hugging and grunting, he reached
the limb below the spot planned for his tree
stand. Using his rope, he pulled his tree stand
up into the pine. Holding the stand with one
hand and the pine tree with the other, he
awkwardly unfolded his stand in the dark. As he
reached around the tree to pull his securing

chain into position, he heard something fall
out of his pouch and crash to the ground be-
low. He hooked the chain to the stand and
looked down. Right then he knew he would
have to make a trip down, because he saw his
flashlight shining on the ground like a warning
beacon for all the deer to see.

Luck. You can’t define it, but you know when
you have it…and when you don’t.


After securing his belt to the tree, Don
started back down the pine tree. Don now
claims climbing down a big, wet pine tree is
harder than climbing up it. He had planned to
rest once he reached the ground, but the now
pink sky urged him on. Turning off the flashlight,
he quickly took hold of the only-too-familiar
wet pine tree and started huffing his
way back up. When he reached the dead
limbs at 15 feet, he knew he had to stop for
a rest. even though time was precious.
Knowing better, he straddled the best-looking
limb to get a breather and rest his weary arms.

Just as he was about to start back up, his limb
broke and he slid down two feet before he was
able to stop. He probably would not have
stopped then if his favorite shirt had not
snagged on the limb stub and brought him to
an abrupt halt. Holding onto the tree with one
hand, he managed to jerk his shirt free of the
stub with his other. The resulting sound told
him he would have some sewing to do that
night. As Don wearily pulled himself onto his
stand, he could hear a commotion to his
right. Breathing hard, he saw a big buck right
on him. It was swinging its rack against sap-
lings in its way and grunting as it came. Even
as Don lifted his bow from its hook on the
tree, the buck was moving past his shooting
lanes. Grabbing an arrow, pulling his bow
back, Don tried to concentrate on his last lane
where the buck now was. Releasing the arrow.
Don felt satisfied with the resulting thud his
shot produced. The buck tore out of there low
to the ground and with no hesitation. Still.
Don felt good about his shot.

Shortly afterwards, Don saw me dragging
my doe and gave me the high sign, hoping
I could confirm his hit. Don once again tried
to see where his arrow should be sticking in
the ground covered with blood, but could not
locate it. Maybe it was still in the buck. When
he looked back up and realized I was gone
with my deer, he knew he would have to come
down from the tree himself to confirm his hit.
He knew if he hurried, he might get to the
truck with his deer before I left for the check-
ing station. Pushing away from the tree, Don
jumped the last eight feet, only to land in an
ankle twisting position. Moaning, he limped
over to his shooting lane. There was no blood
on the trail, only his arrow buried almost to
the nock in a rotten stump!

As Don worked on freeing his arrow, he
looked up to see a couple of six-pointers
watching his progress. Hurrying back to his
tree, Don slowly climbed once more into his
position. He settled his bruised and weary
body into a semi-comfortable seat. Working
its way toward him was a buck that was even
bigger than the one he had missed, and this
time he was ready. As the deer worked its way
closer and closer to Don’s shooting lanes, it
seemed to get more and more skittish until it
raised its nose, curled its upper lip in a sneer,
flipped its tail, and was gone. Don knew he
had worked up a sweat that morning, but this
deer was upwind of him. Just then he noticed
movement downwind of where the buck had
been. In a moment, he was able to discern that
it was an MP following the trail on which I had
taken out my deer. Don whistled the MP over.
Unhooking his stand, Don lowered his gear
from the tree and climbed down.

Apologizing for ruining his hunt, the MP
explained he had hunted this area himself and
was back-tracking to see where my deer had
been killed. Don gathered up his gear (every-
thing in its proper place), hiked out of the
woods and wearily lay down to wait for me.
As Don finished his story I tried to summon up
all the sympathy I could for my hunting partner
and good friend, but I’m afraid his
feelings were hurt by my falling to the ground
and rolling with laughter. Don’t feel too sorry
for Don, though, because he doesn’t have
many mornings like that one. He ended the
season with three bow deer kills, one of them
a huge 8-pointer that he rattled in, to go with
the 10-pointer he took the season before.
But even for such consistently successful
hunters as Don, sometimes it just doesn’t pay
to get out of bed. >>——>

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Published by archerchick on 05 Sep 2010

Bowhunting with The Dutchman – By H.R. “Dutch” Wambold

Archery World – May 1968

Bowhunting with the Dutchman

By H.R. “Dutch” Wambold

During the first days of May as the waters of the

streams warm under the rays of the spring sunshine,

the spawning run of the carp makes its appearance

in the backwaters.

This is the time of the year when many archers

tape their.bowfishing reels on their bow, round up a

few solid glass fishing shafts and points and hit the

waters for some fast shooting fun.

Bowfishing for carp finds many variations by which

to enjoy the sport. Shooting can be done from a

canoe as it is guided into productive waters, or from

any boat for that matter. The method that apPeals

to most bowhunters is the sream bank stalking, or

getting right into the water to work onto the carp.

The large doe carp bursting with eggs keep work-

ing the muddy bottoms of the backwaters making

their nests. The smaller buck carp keep bunting the

doe to force the eggs out of her. In hunting waters

where this takes place, the large doe will rise to the

surface of the water, roll, showing her large dorsal

fin, give a flip of her broad tail and head for the

bottom again.

<

By the time you spot the doe rolling, or hear the

splash of her tail, the carp has usually disappeared

beneath the surface. If you can get into a shooting

position in jig time, all you have to aim for is a slight

swirl in the surface to indicate where the carp had

been. Using some “Mississippi Dippage” you hold

for where you think the carp might be and let go.

The shooting is fast, and the misses are numerous

while the action is tremendous. This type of blind

shooting averages about one hit out of three shots.

If you get into the middle of things and spot a

large doe being bunted around by several smaller

buck carp, you can usually work within range for a

shot while the large doe is still rolling to elude the

males. Nlany times you may wind up with two small-

er buck carp being skel.ered lvhen you miss the old

gal!

Early morning, just before sunrise, seems to be the

ideal time for top action when the spawn is at its

height. The waters are calm, a mist hangs or.er the

surface, and the splash of working carp are the only

sounds. Stalking along the stream banks during this

early morning bowfishing finds many of the carp

hugging the shorelines, and working along the under-

cuts in the banks. If you move slowly, and do not

teveal your profile you can shoot quite a few sleepers.

If you get too close to the edge of the water the carp

will spot you and spook.

Another good opportunity for some fast shooting

can be had if a shallow section of riffles or gravel

bar happens to be in the course towards the back-

waters where the carp are headed for. By working

your way into an advantageous position and playing

the waiting game you may find yourself in for some

fast and furious shooting if carp are working their

way past at the time. When this is the case you can

see your target in the shallows as the carp splash

their way across into deeper waters beyond.

Stingrays

When May ends and the carp start slowing down,

one can find plenty of action in salt water bow-

fishing. June finds the stingrays coming into the

coves and bays for the long summer months that lay

ahead.

The feeding grounds of the rays are where the

clam and oyster beds are located. The rays feed

mainly on mollusks. The early days of June find

the larger rays working into the coves as the mating

season is at its peak. Large numbers are seen during

the first couple weeks after which the numbers seem

to taper off until late August.

This type of bowfishing requires a boat and out-

board. Although .any boat can be used, the ideal

model should have a small quarter-deck so that the

bowfisherman can stand high and up next to the

bow as the coves are trolled, slowly looking for the

sign of a ray. This position also gives the shooter

the advantage of left and right as well as dead ahead

shots on the scooting rays.

Cruising at trolling speed, a sharp lookout is kept

for the darker holes or nests of the rays on the

bottom. Many times a ray may be lying in these

nests and either spook as the boat approaches, or

play possum as the boat passes overhead. An

experienced eye can many times spot the end of the long

tail protruding out of the nest and get a guzzy shot.

At other times when the ray spooks before the boat

reaches his nest, the powerful wings will leave a mud

trail of churned sand along the bottom. The boat is

quickly turned to follow this trail with motor gunned

wide open. When the ray is spotted the shooter on

the bow signals the operator into position for a shot

at the fast moving ray from a moving boat. This

type of shooting takes a few misses to get the hang

of proper lead and compensation for light refraction.

Only a short length of line is placed on the bow

reel, about 30 feet, and the end opposite the arrow is

tied to a small float which is taped to the upper limb

of the bow on the belly side. When the ray is hit,

you hold onto the bow with both hands until the

line has all played off the reel. The float is torn

from the bow as the ray flees. Now you follow with

the boat until the ray stops to sulk on the bottom.

The float is now picked from the surface and

quickly attached to the end of a line of a game fish

rod and reel rig.

Now the bowfisherman becomes the

worker as you start pumping and trying to horse

the big ray in alongside the boat. When the ray on

the end of your fishing arow is a 100 pounder with

a four to five foot span on those powerful wings, you

have your work cut out for you!

Fishing waters should be from three to five feet

in depth and as calm as weather will permit to see

to the bottom. \Vatching the incoming and outgoing

tides will clue you as to when the right time will

permit ideal conditions. Polaroid sun glasses are a

must and help greatly in reducing the light refraction

which will mislead placing the shot in the right place.

Sharks

Most salt waters find some sharks around. The

bigger species are usually found miles offshore in

deeper waters that average from 40 to 90 feet. This

of course does not apply to the tropical waters of the

Florida Keys or similar areas.

When trying for sharks in the northeastern waters,

late surnmer seems to be the most ideal time. Although

small boats can be used and will get results in many cases,

the big sharks are out in deep waters

and require a boat that can ride the open sea.

Chumming must be done to attract the sharks.

When a shark bowfishing trip is planned, a regular

fishing boat seems to be the best bet. Several years

ago I did some shark bowfishing with Captain Munsen

who specializes in this type of sortee. He calls

himself the “Monster Fisherman” and brings in many

good sized sharks.

Operating from Montauk Point on Long Island,

Munsen works his broad-beamed power boat 40 miles

offshore to where the continental shelf lies. Here

the waters drop off to 90 feet or better. This is shark alley.

A chum slick is now spread for several miles.

As the boat drifts along over the shark waters, the

oily slick of the chum winds into the distance behind.

When the chum atracts the sharks up from below,

and the fins are spotted, a teaser bait is thrown out

on a hand line to lure the shark in close to the

boat.

The bowfisherman has rigged himself with about

20 feet of line, one end of Which is attached to the

end of his fishing arrow, and the other is tied to an

innertube on the deck alongside his feet. The line is

carefully coiled so that it will play out freely when

the arrow is put into the shark.

The tube follows overboard, and the shark takes off.

Later, when the shark has played itself out fighting the

inflated innertube, which is painted a bright

yellow, you check the waters with binoculars to spot

the float. The shark is now worked in to the boat

and killed.

Our day’s shark bowfishing found me shooting a

nine-foot blue shark and missing a leviathan that

must have gone at least l2 foot or better!

Care must be taken to attach the line only to the

nock end of the glass shaft. This will keep the line

clear of rubbing on the shark’s hide which is like

sandpaper and will cut the line. About a six foot

length of flexible and light wire cable leader is good

insurance against the shark cutting the line while it

fights the innertube float.

Light Refraction

The nemesis all bowfishing faces is light ray refraction

on the surface of the water. The position

of the sun overhead in comparison to the location

of the bowfisherman, and the target’s direction of

movement presents some optical illusions.

For example: With the sun shining down from

behind the bowfisherman and the fish swimming

away, requires that you shoot behind the fish to make

a hit. Should that same fish be swimming in towards

you, you shoot ahead of the fish to make your hit!

Should the fish be swimming from left to right

in front of the bowfisherman’s position you again

shoot below to make a hit. If the fish is swimming

from right to left you again aim below to hit. This

of course is taking for granted that the sun is still

behind the bowfisherman.

Should the sun be in front of the bowfisherman,

and shining into his face, cross-swimming fish from

either side will appear to be closer to you and will

require shooting over them to make a hit.

Polaroid glasses eliminate most of this refraction

problem as well as enabling the wearer to see into

the depths to spot the fish. Surface glare is eliminated

by the polaroid lens.

Whatever your bow shooting activities might be

during the summer months, don’t pass up the chance

for some bowfishing action in your locality. The

change of pace is a welcome one, and the recreational

pastime is a satisfying experience.

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Published by mattguedes on 04 Sep 2010

Ripcord

I wanted to comment on the first two animals I have harvested this year and the performance of the new Code Red Ripcord rest. I have been incredibly impressed with this new version of an already great rest. The rest gives me perfect flight and when I am spot and stalk hunting through the woods of western Colorado, the arrow is held perfectly by the rest. This is by far the best rest I have ever hunted with. Add that to the character and commitment of the Don and Keith Dvoroznak and I would never shoot another rest. Go get one and you will not be disappointed.

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Published by AdkinsArcheryAdventure on 30 Aug 2010

Adkins Archery Adventure 3D Archery Range Flattop WV

New 3D archery range located in Flattop West Virginia! A variety of 15 outdoor targets. Open Saturdays and Sundays 9-6 until bow season starts. $10.00 per person. 12 and under are free. If you would like to shoot 2 rounds the second round in $5.00.

Check us out on Facebook:

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Published by admin on 23 Aug 2010

BloodBrothers Or Adversaries-Choices

BloodBrothers Or Adversaries-Choices by Ted Nugent

There is no question that the finest human beings on planet earth are found around hunting campfires worldwide. Kind, hard working, caring, giving, generous, connected, down to earth, clever, sophisticated, educated, loving, funny and genuine are only a few adjectives to describe the families who carry on the most positive environmental, hands-on conservation lifestyle in the world. These are my heart and soul BloodBrothers and they inspire me to no end.

I have been guiding, outfitting, hunting along side and sharing BloodBrother campfires with literally thousands and thousands of these great people for my entire life and I know what I am talking about. The defining example of their greatness continues to sine through when I proudly take part in numerous charity fundraisers for needy children and the hero warriors of the US Military and their families year after year, month after month. Never has there been a time when hunters fail to charge forward, often at great personal sacrifice, to give and give and give some more. In nearly every instance in literally hundreds of instances, my donated hunts have raised record dollars fo every imaginable charity event, and that is because hunters always give more. Know it.

With that glowing truism well established, it is with a heavy heart that we must admit the painful reality that along with the abundant good, there is unfortunately always some bad and ugly. And no where in any segment of society have I witnessed a lower form of life than that which also inhabits our beloved hunting community. Sad but true.

We all know of their ugly existence. The sign shooters, the treestand thieves, the vandals, the drunks, the slobs, the dopers, the meth heads, the poachers, the criminal element, and maybe even worse than all that, the cannibalistic holy-than-thou elitists who stand as buffoonish deterrents to the recruitment of new and more sporting families to our beloved hunting lifestyle.

This inbreeding and cannibalism within our sport is one of life’s truly bizarre mysteries, and the manifestation of the soullessness of mankind.

You know them too. The unsophisticated amongst us who condemn hunting methodology choices other than theirs. The black powder elitists who frown on inline muzzleloaders or those unethical lesser sporters who cheat by using scopes on their front stuffers.

The weirdo’s who scorn the compound bowhunter for his “training wheels”.

The state bowhunting organizations who somehow classify a crossbow as some sort of firearm or possessing firearm capabilities in spite of the universal evidence to the contrary.

The “fair chase” and “no fences” obsessers who condemn private property high fence game managers’ and other hunters’ choices.

The goofballs who condemn the use of bait for herbivores but hunt over various baits themselves, and use bait for bears.

There are hunters who have voted to outlaw hound hunting.

How about the really strange hunters who think wearing camo in public has some negative connotations to the non hunter?

If you can imagine, in the eleven states where Sunday hunting is banned, the loudest voice for such an unimaginable hunting ban comes from hunter organizations. Think about that for a moment. Incredible.

I have personally been attacked forever for my legal hunting choices, choices mind you that are chosen by millions upon millions of great hunters across the land. Many of the world’s greatest and most respected hunters ever, like Fred Bear, Dale Earnhart, Howard Hill, Craig Boddington, Bob Foulkrod, Fred Eichler, Chuck Adams, Cameron Haines, Michael Waddell and millions more enjoy hunting with hounds and over bait. How a fellow hunter can condemn such choices is a clear and present indictment to their embarrassing small mindedness and strange, unfounded elitism. Sad testimony really.

My personal favorites are the clowns who claim I’m not a real hunter and bad for our sport because of my long hair and musical career, then go off with their drinking, smoking, chewing buddies to the topless bar for a night of wholesome recreation. Phenomenal. Meanwhile I will continue to celebrate and promote our honorable hunting heritage in my proven style and to hundreds of millions of people around the world in my unprecedented and irrefutably effective way. I wonder how many of them created a children’s charity to recruit tens of thousands of new sporters. I don’t really wonder. I know.

Bottomline, the animal right’s and anti-hunting goons have never negatively effected our sport anywhere near as bad as our own fellow hunters have. When Michigan produces more than a thousand times the number of mourning doves than we do peasants, but have failed to legalize dove hunting, it is not the anti-hunters who are to blame. It is the bottom feeding hunters who sided with them or failed to stand up for our rights that accomplished this grave injustice, and many, many others across America just like it.

So what can the good guys do? Turn up the heat, that’s what. Engage all hunters to think and try harder to be a positive force for our sport. Initiate the dialog and don’t let the naysayers get away with nonsense and silliness. We can’t educate those entrenched to resist education, but I believe we can galvanize more and more hunters to be supportive of choices and respect the powerful bond of our BloodBrotherhood.

Sometimes you can’t fix stupid, but we can all try harder to maximize the positive and minimize the negative. I for one would never find fault with, much less attempt to ban the choices of my fellow sporters. Waterholes are bait. Foodplots are bait. Mock scrapes are bait. Etc etc etc. We all know that. And every hunter I know supports such choices completely. Let us hope a new wave of upgrade rolls throughout our sport so that someday we can all stand as one to further our beloved lifestyle while uniting to defeat the real braindead enemy of those opposed to us. I have a dream.

Visit tednugent.com of twiter.com/tednugent for more Full Bluntal Nugity

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Published by admin on 02 Aug 2010

Nugent named Favorite Hunting Personality

Nugent named Favorite Hunting Personality

Colchester, VT — The people have spoken!  And guess who’s been named the Favorite Hunting Personality by the readers of Outdoors Magazine?  None other than Ted Nugent!

Outdoors Magazine conducted a Public Opinion Poll designed to gauge the

public’s perspective on the role of television and celebrities in the sport of hunting.

And it seems that Nuge won by a landslide! 

 “I have celebrated this amazing, humbling connection with America’s sporting families forever. I am a very lucky man to have so many gungho BloodBrothers out there,”  said Nugent, commenting from the road on his nationwide Trample the Weak Hurdle the Dead tour.

 Nugent’s most recent victory will come as no surprise to the millions who have

heard him wax eloquent in major media nationwide on hunting, fishing, trapping and gun rights.  In fact, Nugent is respected globally as an articulate and thoughtful spokesman for a full range of outdoors and conservation issues.  He is regularly sought for commentary by journalists worldwide.

 Results will be published in the September Issue of Outdoors Magazine, and will also be available at www.outdoorsmagazine.net.

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Published by admin on 02 Aug 2010

SUMMER SAUSAGE by Ted Nugent

 

SUMMER SAUSAGE                                                           by Ted Nugent
 
 

Ah, summertime, life is good and the living is easy. Dripping wet with nonstop sweat, but I’ll take it. The heat and humidity was brutal, but I had a day off from an even more brutal rock-n-roll tour schedule where we stormtrooped six nights a week with an animal ferocity the likes of which mankind has never imagined.
Trample The Weak Hurdle The Dead, nothing but lovesongs from your uncle Ted. Me and my boys were rocking at an alltime high intensity, and we only had eight more weeks to go before the official hunting season came on strong. I couldn’t wait. In fact, I won’t!
 
Spending my days working with my Labrador retrievers in anticipation of another upcoming wonderful waterfowl season, checking my varmint traps, exercising my arsenal and working on feeders and deer stands, there was no way I could fail to sit in one of my favorite ladderstands at the forest pond where the critters would surely have to converge for a little liquid refreshment before dark. There are swine in these here woods, and I need to get me some pork for the grill.
 
Big Jim and I loaded up the F250 backstrap hauler with bows, arrows, lightweight ScentLok camo, ice cold water, ThermaCells, vidcam and plenty of attitude. We quietly settled into our double ladderstands with a good cross wind from the southwest, and got ready to rock the three hours till dark.
 
I had placed some brand new Primo’s Swamp Donkey nutritional supplemental feed and attractant, both in granulated and palletized form, at the base of a few trees between us and the ponds edge. Following recent good rains, the little woodland pond doubled in size from slightly less than an acre to two acres, so we knew we needed something to improve our chances to lure some hogs into bowrange.
 
I often mention how the great outdoors “cleanses the soul”, but during my insane ultra rock tours, soul cleansing is essential for survival. As always, the beautiful Michigan woods calmed me and brought relaxation like no other. Crows yammered in the distance, woodpeckers harassed the wood bound bug world, and sand hill cranes crillled high overhead.
 
My old woods is emerald green in summer, and a slight breeze under the sun shielding canopy provided a welcome respite from the cooking ball of fire to the west. Jim videoed the beauty of sunrays cutting through the swaying  branches and a smiling old guitar player at home and happy on his sacred hunting grounds. A few golden deer skittered off in the shadows, but all was peaceful at our waterhole.
 
As dusk approached, I noticed movement to the south as three very handsome wild boar skulked along the forest edge headed for water. The good sized pigs took their time but eventually waded into the pond, crossing to our side. When they got a snout full of Swamp Donkey, they went for it.
 
As always, they ate facing us or facing directly away, not giving a decent shot for a long time. Finally, the smaller, redder hog, what I thought was a sow, turned broadside and I smoothly drew my lightweight 50# Martin bow without any of them noticing.
 
At twenty yards, I picked a spot and let er rip. The vidcam caught the zebra shaft smacking into the hogs ribs as the Lumenok glowed bright orange right exactly where I wanted it, in and out of the swine in an instant.
 
With a grunt and a squeal, the trio lit out of there like a punched piggy and disappeared into the dark forest behind us. Good Lord that’s exciting stuff! At 62 years clean and sober young, every arrow is more thrilling today in my life than ever before, and my big old pig killing grin on camera said it all. I knew my arrow was true, and it was just a matter of tracking my prize.
 
The bloodtrail was a dandy and in short order we recovered my prize. Though I thought my pig was the smallest of the three, it turned out to be a fine, heavy boar of over 140 pounds. A great trophy and killer grilling!
 
My 400 grain Nuge Gold Tip 5575 tipped with a scalpel sharp Magnus two blade BuzzCut head had zipped clean through the tough beast like butter. A graceful 50# bow is all she wrote, and in fact, Mrs. Nugent cleanly kills all her big game with a lightweight girly 40#. She has bagged big tenacious deer, rams, wildebeest, kudu, gemsbok, zebra, warthogs, impala, Aoudad, and an assortment of various big game around the world, proving the certain deadliness of lightweight tackle. I hope nobody keeps people out of our wonderful bowhunting lifestyle for the wrongheaded assumption that a powerful bow is necessary to kill big game. It isn’t. Stealth, grace and razor sharp arrowhead placement makes venison, not velocity or power.
 
We hauled my trophy boar out of the forest with a handy Glenn’s DeerHandle, loaded it up and after thoroughly cleaning and skinning it, hung it in our portable Polar King walk in cooler. The next day our buddy who specializes in smoking whole hogs picked it up for the final process for the ultimate wise use conservation of renewable pork.
 
Summertime-perfect. Hog hunting-perfect. Beautiful arrows-perfect. Dead hogs-perfect. Smoked hogs-perfect. Barbeque-perfect. Rocking like pork spirit powered maniacs the next night in Wisconsin-perfect. I call it the American Dream. Perfect.
 
For ultimate year round trophy boar hunting with Ted Nugent at Sunrize Acres in Michigan, contact Paul@tednugent.com 517-750-9060, or visit tednugent.com
 

 

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Published by admin on 02 Aug 2010

UNCLE TED ARCHERY ACCURACY TIPS FOR MORE BACKSTRAPS

 

UNCLE TED ARCHERY ACCURACY TIPS FOR MORE BACKSTRAPSby Ted Nugent
By Ted Nugent
I am a simple man. Not so simple minded, but real simple in the logic department. Unfortunately, I am also a hyper intense maniac kind of guy, dangerously plagued with a bad case of out of control over the top mad man passion and lust for life. If I could just calm down once in a while….. Nah, I like it like this.
 
Who else would have, could have created all these cool animal breeding guitar masterpieces like Stranglehold, Great White Buffalo, Fred Bear and a few hundred more if I weren’t like this. Mankind owes me. This is the soundtrack for ultimate living, and I have no regrets. Thank You Lord.
 
Unfortunately, such a hyper personality is the worse kind for archery control, and I blame this intensity of life for my tendency to snap into occasional target panic hell. It ain’t pretty, but I do attack this malady with the same maniacal enthusiasm I do everything in my life, and I would like to pass along to all my Mystical Flight of the Arrow BloodBrothers a little tip for controlling this ugly beast. I know for a fact that a huge number of archers and bowhunters wrestle with various degrees of target panic, and if I can manage it, anyone can.
 
Basically, target panic manifests its ugly self in the weird, inexplicable strangeness of failing to be able hold our sight pins dead on target. I shot bare bow, instinctively with no sights for the first fifty years of my beloved archery/bowhunting life, then around 1977, BAM! I went chimp on myself.
 
Lucky me, I had a blessed life where the mighty Fred Bear was a close friend, and my terrified phonecall to this great man immediately brought me some relief and confidence. He explained how he was ready to abandon his beloved bow and arrows due to a bout with target panic in the 1950s, but worked on a management program to over power it.
 
Whew! Thank God! Thank Fred!
 
Step one, according to Fred, was to get a super lightweight draw bow that gave as little muscle resistance as possible. I got a Bear Hunter recurve at 35#.
 
Step two was to shoot at very close range at a big, obvious target. So I stacked four bales of wheat straw and placed a large white paper plate in the middle and stood at ten feet.
 
Step three was to shoot with my eyes closed to memorize the shooting sequence and concentrate on the smoothest release possible.
 
Step four, and the most difficult and frustrating move, was to draw down on the paper plate, now with a small black dot in the middle, and force myself to zero in on my ultimate sight picture but not release the arrow. This step nearly drove me crazy, because I would tell myself I was not going to let my arrow go, which seemed to fool my brain allowing me to perfectly point my arrow dead on at the little black dot, and of course then I would release the arrow and it would hit the small dot perfectly for a few times. I struggled like a crazy man to force myself to not shoot, but would defy my own will and shoot anyway when my sight picture looked so good. It about drove me crazy.
 
Focusing on Step three, I would say a three step prayer, where I said the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father“, I would pick a spot on the paper plate, “And of the Son”, I would anchor solidly in the corner of my mouth, and “Of the Holy Spirit” I would close my eyes, and on “Amen” I would roll my fingers away from the string.
 
Through nonstop practice, I was so dedicated to the three step prayer, that it was as if I wasn’t shooting a bow, but rather simply going through a muscle memorized imprinted procedure, and I really started shooting incredibly accurate.
 
Most of the time. I would occasionally slip out of mind set and flinch like a pinched school girl, my arrow nearly missing the whole wall of straw. It was bizarre.
 
I went to a compound bow in 1978, and a year or so later began to use a mechanical release, but still shot without sights, canting my bow just like I always did.
 
I never gave up, and eventually got better and better with hunting weight bows at longer range, but had to constantly work on managing the prayer.
 
Years later, my good buddy Bryan Schupbach at Schupbach Sporting Goods in Jackson, Michigan, put together one of my Martin bows with sight pins and a peep sight and said I had to genuinely dedicate myself to go for this setup to see what I could do.
 
And it worked. I still shoot a lightweight 50# bow, but the three point prayer combined with the consistency of fiber optic sight pings in a large aperture peep sight has turned me into a pretty good shot. I doubt I will ever get back that pure instinctive longbow touch I had as a kid, but I sure don’t miss very often and my beloved bowhunting is more intense, fun and gratifying than it has ever been in my 62 years. God it feels good!
 
The final piece to the accuracy puzzle, particularly on game animals, is to not focus on the pin, but rather on the exact spot you want your arrow to hit. The pin should actually be in your secondary vision, the animals vitals your primary vision. For me, to look at the pin and try to walk it onto the magic triangle of the beast brings back some of that target panic freeze off target, and that is not good.
 
For those lucky dogs, like Mrs. Nugent and my sons, who can simply nail the pin down on the exact spot everytime and without a hick-up, simply shoot the animal in the heart, this all sounds like psycho babble. But target panic is as real as a heart attack for many, many archers and bowhunters across the land, and many of us are convinced the prime cause of attrition in our sport.
 
I hope you all share this with your hunting families and friends, and go over each step diligently. I am also convinced that if done so, we could finally have the ten million bowhunters in America that we should have. But each step is critical, and what I believe to be a sure fire recipe for ultimate bowhunting accuracy.
 
May the bloodtrails be short and may the sacred backstraps flow like manna from heaven.
 
For signed copies of Ted Nugent’s books, including “BloodTrails II-The Truth About Bowhunting” visit tednugent.com

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Published by admin on 02 Aug 2010

Nugent hit it dead center with his “Mystical flight of the arrow”

Nugent hit it dead center with his “Mystical flight of the arrow”
 
Ted Nugent calls it “the mystical flight of the arrow” and I always thought that was a pretty good description of the sport of archery.  There’s just something about the flight of an arrow that has been a lifelong addiction for me.  I drew my first bow in 1971 at the age of four and have been drawing a bowstring ever since.  Uncle Theo has a way with words and I’ve never seen a better description than he has for this passion we share for the flight of the arrow.
 
I like shooting an arrow, talking about and writing about it, and visiting with others that like it.  So much so that I made it a career.  For the past 25 years I’ve been on the road doing instinctive archery shows across the country.  As a protege’ of the late Rev. Stacy Groscup, I have tried to demonstrate the instinctive style of shooting for audiences from a wide variety of backgrounds.  I have stood in the Bronx after a show there and watched children line up for two hours to try archery after my show.  I have stood in a horse barn in Amish country and did shows, and in some of the finest sports complexes we have.  It matters not, people enjoy the flight of an arrow and hopefully they also listen to my words, encouraging them to spend time as a family unit together outdoors—away from cell phones, computers, video games, and tv.  I also tell the youngsters in the audience about staying away from drugs and living a good life, so that they can dream big dreams and then work hard to make those dreams come true.  And when my arrow busts that baby aspirin from mid air, it drives those messages home. 
 
What is it about this flight of the arrow that draws us in?  One of things for me is accuracy.  I love to see an arrow strike it’s target.  I have written articles prior to this one discussing the importance of target acquisition.  You see an object, lock in on it, draw the bow and release your arrow.  Then there is that moment while the arrow travels to the mark— anticipation–and then the moment of truth– a hit or a miss.  Powerful stuff.  I don’t really care what style of shooting you use–GAP, Point Of Aim, Sights, Scope, Release… it’s that arrow flying to it’s mark.  That’s the excitement. 
 
My son now has the passion for archery!  The fact that he’s already busting balloons with his bow at three years old is awesome.  I remember a few weeks ago when he and I were in the indoor range.  I put a balloon on the target for him, knelt down beside him to help him draw his bow when he took the bow from me and walked a few paces away saying, “I got it dad” or something like that, drawing the bow, and letting the arrow fly.  I watched as that arrow slowly went into the air and “POW” popped the balloon first shot!  That was the first time he’d ever fired a bow on his own.  I will always remember that particular shot.  Wow.
 
There have been other shots over the years I remember.  One of them is when the late Tom Joyce, a Bear recurve shooter and instinctive shooter that was a family friend was at our place shooting.  We were on the practice range one day behind my parent’s retail store.  They had various targets set up at distances from 20 to 80 yards in this big field.  Near the 80 yard target was a Poplar tree with Autumn leaves hanging low.  Tom said, “Watch this…” and slowly drew his Bear take down.  When his finger got to the corner of his mouth he let it fly.  The arrow glided into mid air and then came down and hit the leaf dead center!  An amazing 80 yard or more shot!  Tom grinned. 
I also remember watching an arrow miss it’s mark once.  I had never seen my father miss game with a bow, ever.  A few years ago we were hunting on the King Ranch in South Texas.  An opportunity at a huge 170-180 class buck presented itself and pop loaded his bow and got ready.  He drew the bow, and I was videoing the shot.  All at once the arrow was in flight and glided right over the buck’s back.  I laughed so hard I accidentally shut the camera off.  He didn’t find it funny.  We went in for lunch and then after lunch he put a napkin on a cactus.  He stood back and at 50 yards put a broadhead through the center of the napkin.  The buck had only been maybe 42 yards.  Pop’s a good shot but evidently got buck fever.
 
One last arrow I’ll write about was shot by an 82 year old man.  He missed six times but the seventh shot struck home.  It was the late Rev. Stacy Groscup and at age 82 he was still able to shoot aspirin tablets from mid air. I had invited him to be with me at a local sports show.  It would be our last time on stage together.  Although his first six shots missed, I got a little nervous.  I wondered if he could still see and hit the pills.  After all, at his age most could not.  He proved me wrong when that 7th aspirin was tossed into mid air.  It floated up and Stacy sent a fluflu arrow on it’s way. I watched as the arrow flew towards the pill and all at once I heard a “click” as the dust flew and Stacy’s arrow collided with the pill!  Amazing huh?  Although many 82 year olds take aspirin, Stacy was still shooting them!  Sadly he’d pass away about two short years later.  I have many fine memories of arrows we launched together over the years.  I just wish he would have lived to see my son Gus sending arrows down range.  I know he would have loved that.
 
This Fall I am going to visit with friends Dick and Carol Mauch while doing exhibitions in Nebraska.  I look forward to watching some arrows glide over the fields at their beloved Plum Creek Cabin.  Pop and I are due to be at King ranch in the late Fall too.  I hope this time to watch his arrow fly true and hit it’s mark. Hoping my arrow finds it’s mark too on one of those big So Texas whitetails.  You can see I’m already looking forward to arrows flying this Fall.  I suppose I’m hooked on this sport we call archery.
 
I have enjoyed reliving some of these stories today as I banged out this column.  There’s nothing finer than writing about the flight of an arrow if you can’t be out there shooting arrows.  Speaking of that, I think I’ll head out to the target and fling a few arrows before dark.  Thanks for reading, send me an email if you have some special memories of the flight of the arrow.  Oh, and be sure and pass along your passion for this sport to others around you.  Why should we have all the fun?
 
 
Until next time, Adios and God Bless.
Shoot Straight,
Frank
 

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Published by sarah on 25 Jul 2010

Tell me what you think of my artical. thanks!

 

HI! im sarah and im fifteen(:  i wrote this for huntinglife.com it got accepted and also got me on their prostaff. i was thinking about sending it to eastmans. tell me what you guys think.

The big day, October 2nd is here. The leaves are green with hints of yellow and the air is warm.  I hike through the woods to my tree stand; the warm air smothers me with a feeling of peace. Getting away from the grind of life and into the woods for a few hours brings me to an absolute bliss.  Although the weather is pleasant I get cold chills because the feelings the outdoors brings to me.  Even if I do not bring a deer home with me, I will not return home low-spirited but I will feel cleansed and refreshed. As the season goes by, I may kill a few deer but that’s not all that brings me excitement. Just seeing nature’s changes is enough to thrill me. Watching the leaves go from green, to yellow, orange, and red, then watching them slowly disappear off the trees and the ground transform into a red, orange, and yellow mixture. I’ve learned the beauty of the hunt can be just an exciting as the kill itself.

As a child, responsibility isn’t a strong point. But it may be gained much faster and stronger if the child hunts. Hunting is a sport that involves weapons and they can’t be treated as toys.  And as a child I was taught to treat every gun as if it was loaded.  I’ve learned patience and how to be stealthy. Learning all the ways to hunt such as walking quietly by rolling you foot, when to be ready to draw back, when to stand up, how to correctly use deer estrus, how to scan the area in search for deer, and many other difficult techniques.  I remember to practice these each time I go out and hunt. I want every technique I know to be mastered.  

Hunting has taught me about respect. Not the yes sir and no ma’am kind of respect that I was taught when I was young. But I have learned to respect the outdoors, to respect my states laws and people who own the land I hunt on.  I put myself in the landowners position and think “I wouldn’t enjoy people disrespecting my land.” And I remember to treat others as I would like to be treated. Wildlife is beautiful and I see it on TV getting ruined by oil spills or enormous clear-cuts.  It hurts me to think of all the beauty that humans are destroying through their greediness.  The woods that I know will never vanish in my generation are my sanctuary.  And I sympathize for the people who can’t enjoy the forest or animals in the wild because they live in the city. They just don’t understand how hunting truly can change a person’s life. 

My dad and I have bonded tremendously through the outdoors. We fish, hike, hunt, or anything else we can find that’s outside.  Really, all our time spent together is doing these activities.  He has taught me a lot of things from tying a strong slip-knot for fishing to how to shoot my boy correctly. My Granddad has also taught me many useful things. He owned a sporting goods store in the seventies and he was also a park ranger, he goes to Montana to shoot prairie dogs once a year and buys me books and magazines to help me learn as much as I can.  My granddad takes me out to the rifle range and we shoot skeet, pistols, and rifles. All the old men up there let me try out there guns. Without my dad and granddad I doubt I would know all I do. And without the outdoors, I wouldn’t be nearly as close with them as I am.

Another of the many great traits I have gained from the outdoors is hard work pays off.  Two years ago on my first hunting trip alone I missed a doe. I blame it on myself because I hadn’t practiced like I should have. That disappointment lit me up and I was determined to be the best shot I could be. All summer I shot and shot. Finally the chance came for me to prove that my hard work actually meant something. I shot at my second deer at 42 yards while standing on my knees, turned around backwards in my tree stand. My heart sank; I knew I had shot to low and missed. I pulled out my cell phone and called my dad to tell him to help me look for my arrow, it could be anywhere. He came down to the clearing where I had shot and we looked a long time for that arrow that was nowhere to be seen. I searched and searched, but I found something a million times better than an arrow. Blood.  A smile hit my face so hard that I couldn’t even speak. My dad noticed and he looked at me like I was crazy. I found the words and told him about what I spotted. That was the start of our night. I had barely nicked the lungs and he ran a little ways but eventually we found him. A little spike but I didn’t care; I had a kill under my belt. I was so proud.

Hunting isn’t for everyone, but if you love it and get out there you can learn some of the most important qualities a person can earn in their life. The beauty of nature, responsibility, respect, the value of family and friends, and that hard work truly does pay off. These aren’t the only things a hunter can learn, but they are some of the most precious characteristics.

 

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