When Ted Nugent and his camera man Mitch Moore of Marysville knocked on the door at the Wilderness Archery shop just before the doors were open in Rocklin, it shocked all the workers as well as the fortunate customers who happen to be shopping that day. Nugent needed some work done on his bow and one of his top cameramen Mitch Moore of Marysville recommended the Wilderness Archery Shop for the work.

TED NUGENT—left Glenn Batsford, and Wilderness Archery owner Mike
Woltering take time out for a photo while Nugent had his bow repaired.

Nugent was extremely friendly and cordial with all of the customers, signed autographs, and took photos for who ever had a camera with them while he waited for Ross Meyer to fine tune his bow. Meyer is the one of the top bow techs in the U.S. along with owner Mike Woltering and his 2 sons, now third generation bow technicians.

Uncle Ted, as he sometimes calls himself, or the Nuge, was out here to shoot some California black tail deer footage for his TV program and was hunting near the Placerville area. As it turned out, he shot a huge buck, and came back into the shop the next day with a signed photograph of the buck he harvested for the crew at Wilderness Archery to hang on the wall.

Nugent not only is a great Rock Star, he is an ambassador to gun rights for sportsmen in this country. Because of his music and TV success his is fortunate enough to make huge monetary donations to preserve our gun freedoms in this country. If you are a hunter and sportsmen and you are fortunate enough to meet Ted Nugent, please tell him thank you for all the hard work he is doing to preserve our rights as Americans.

Mitch Moore sent me the humorous letter that Nugent wrote to him on the plane as he left Northern California. Here is the letter and some of the photos taken on his visit.

God Loves Me Blacktail
by Ted Nugent

I know I am a sweet, sweet man, but this buzz-saw frenzy-cloud of bee-madness is going to drive me crazy. And I am well aware of the presumption that athe road to crazy for ol Uncle Ted is but a blink of the eye dragstrip G-force in the low teen to reckon with, nonetheless, crazier I do not need. Bee-ing that as it may, let it bee. To bee or not to bee. I do bee-lieve. Un-bee-lievable. Bee the best that you can bee.

For the hooked on phonics crowd, what I mean by all that creative gibberish, inspired by another dangerous adrenalin high, is that I am sitting in a treestand, deep in the wilderness of Northern California, bow and arrow at the ready, sweating profusely, with a scary cloud of divebombing meat bees buzzing furiously around my head and body, like some crescendo of fear in a Steven King “Attack of the Killer Bee’s movie. (a Bee movie) All the while, I must remain statue still, poised for “the shot” with a gaggle of ultra alert blacktail deer all around me, including a behemoth, once in a lifetime trophy buck of gargantuan proportions. I have not been stung yet, (by the bees) but it hurts so good. I am thinking of a US military hero under heavy enemy fire. By comparison, I can handle this pettiness.

TED NUGENT--and camera man Mitch Moore of Marysville shot this trophy
buck near Placerville. Nugent was filming for his TV program Spirit of the
Wild.

As a magnum cum loudmouth graduate of the Michiganiac Whitetail Deer School of Heavenly Torture, I fear nothing, cannot and will not be deterred, and if this little squadron of bussnut bees  they can effect my powerful bowhunting predatorship with their feeble gangbanger attack, they got another think coming. I have made up my mind, I am going to kill that buck. Bee-lieve it. Buzz awhile.

I am so blessed to be a member of the Ultimate American BloodBrother Bowhunting Brotherhood. In these game rich wilds of Northern California, my fellow backstrap addicts Mitch Moore and Ross Patterson have organized the dream deerhunt setup on Uncle Ken’s little piece of paradise. At the top of a heavily forested mountaintop, a lush, well irrigated green garden of yummy vegetables is fenced off for a cluster of mature, ripe apple trees, heavy with fruit. Mammoth black and white oaks sag from the weight of big, fat juicy acorns, and if I were a blacktail deer, I would live here too.

And that is just how the local deer must feel. The perfect habitat combination of impenetrable off limits, human-less escape cover, with an abundant pantry of favorite foods, augmented by a babbling brook flowing from above, and I do believe I have landed in blacktail heaven. Well, maybe heaven and hell, considering the annoying bee situation. My ThermaCell has succeeded once again in the chasing away the black flies and mosquitoes, but the bees could care less. That is a small price to pay for such an amazing bowhunting opportunity. It is all happening here and now. Let it bee known by all.

A trio of does will not quit looking. They don’t actually look up at Mitch and I in the ladderstand, but their gaze is directly under us, so we dare not twitch. My bow is already upright in shooting position, my release clipped onto my bowstring. Four more does and fawns walk nervously in the golden grasses on the edge of our oak grove, but Dig Daddy just keeps on getting closer. We ignore the bees and do not move.

Now a deer is blowing behind us and the slick heads start to walk away stiff legged. The giant buck jerks his head erect and watches, but amazingly continues towards us. Bees buzz.

Just beyond the bow shot, screened by the hanging canopy of oak leaves, he stands and looks. Twenty minutes drag by without anything except the bees moving. Bee buzzing is very loud as they land on my wrist, my arrow and my forehead. I ignore them. I am winning.

VidCam Commando Mitch holds his ground, capturing the drama, the joint burning, psyche bashing tension of it all is spellbinding. We don’t have a hair. Adrenalin flows like whit e water rapids through our entire beings, but we hang steady.

Now a doe re-emerges cautiously from the pine forest to our right, the buck watches her as she gets close, a very noisy bee is on my right ear.  With new confidence, the buck begins to stroll in to join the doe, and after more than a half hour, it looks like it might happen. Mitch’s leg quivers violently, my hand shakes. There is no life, no world, no nothing. The buck is everything. We are owned. As far as I am concerned, there is no bees.

The doe abruptly turns and trots away up the hill, the buck watches, quartering towards us, then steps behind the huge oak. I want to draw but dare not. We wait. And wait some more. I can see the huge 7X8 velvet rack out from behind the tree and expect I will get the perfect angling shot at 22 yards as he emerges. We wait still.

Without warning, antlers jerk fast and the buck pivots from behind the tree back to the right as if to follow the doe. I slowly crouch so I can see under the canopy beneath which he is headed, draw, draw my bow, bracket his chest twixt the 20 and 30 yard pins, and touch er off. Kerthwack!! Houston, we have liftoff!

The glowing Lumenok shines against his dark hide on the right hip, black and white zebra arrow angling hard towards the goodstuff and the monarch kicks wildly like a bucking bronco, once, twice, thrice, just like they do when shot through the heart! Good Gods Almighty!

Mitch follows the scurrying beast on video as it scrambles off, showing clear signs of serious injury. We look at each other and let out a breath as if we have just surfaced from a dangerously long free dive underwater, air literally whooshing out of our lungs, breathlessly wild eyed. Now this how we are supposed to get high. It was amazing.

I try to organize my thoughts, fail miserably, and stammer and babble something into the camera about blacktail deer, bees, the airless heat, sore joints, giant antlers, the effervescent mystical flight of the arrow and my insatiable love of bowhunting. We shall see on Spirit of the Wild TV if I make any sense at all. I I do not, it will make perfect sense.

We silently descend, search on hands and knees for blood, find nothing and deflate as the highest of highs plummets into those all to familiar lowest of lows. Is there anything else in life like bowhuntin? No.

Mitch and Ross are master trackers. I’m not too bad. We crawl well past dark, examining yellow grasses and pine needle floors. Nothing. I replay the arrow hit and glowing Lumenok in my mind, then actually watch the digital video to confirm. Hard angle. Plenty of penetration headed toward vials. Check still nothing. Damn

Sore muscles. Ravaged psyche. Raw knees. Wet clothing. Flaccid moral. No appetite, Little, fitful sleep. Early rise, tracking anew. More crawling, when Mitch shouts out. We kneel down in the gravel trail looking at the clear divots of a large buck track with decent blood splattered on stones and sticks. We follow it readily to the property fence, 200 yards from the tree stand. A confrontation with neighbors ensues, then dissipates. Mitch and Ross scour the neighbors hillside and in short order the always lovely backstrap rebel yell reverberates across the mountainside!  Only forty yards farther lay my prize. Our prize. A Brotherhood effort and a team celebration.

He is stunning. An old, mature beast of a California blacktail buck. Roman nose, acorn belly and breathtaking rack of antlers. With 8 points on one side and seven by my count on the other, we have here a genuine 170 plus inch dream buck, and the roller coaster journey that is the hunt makes it incredibly exciting for all of us.
Mitch and Ross know this buck and tell me of the missing 6-8” drop tine that is visible on numerous trailcam photos. Bit it matters not, for the beast is dead, long live the beast.

I am one very lucky old bowhunter. Thank You Mitch, Rhonda, Ross Jennifer, Ken, Karen, James and Kim and everybody at the Sacramento Fish and Game office. Thanks to Ross and Mike and all the gung-ho bowhunters at Wilderness Archery in Rocklin, CA

On this early season bowhunt for CA blacktail dee, Ted used his #50 Martin Rytera AlienX bow, GodTip 5575 Nuge arrows, 100 grain Magnus Busscut broadhead, Scott release, Lumenok lighted nocks, Sims LimbSavers, drop away arrow rest, fiber optic sight and accessories, Mossy Oak lightweight Savannag ScentLok clothing. Bushnell optics and flashlight, ThermaCell, Code Blue scents and scent eliminator, Knight and Hale calls, C’Mere Deer during the reseason, Outdoor Edge knives, Glenn’s Deerhandle and numerous Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s