Aug 10, 2012 No Comments ›› Pat Dollard
Excerpted from NEWSMAX: Tribe Nuge pulled into the little clearing on the banks of the mighty Titabawasee River in the spectacular wilds of Northern Michigan. Our 1958 Ford station wagon was loaded down with all the basic camping gear and archery equipment.
We all eagerly pitched in to set up the old log cabin with iron skillets, camping supplies, sleeping bags, bows, arrows and all the basics for my favorite thing in life — rough and tumble bowhunting the old fashioned way. With no electricity or running water, I at the tender age of 9 had a full regimen of chores to fulfill, so I started by gathering firewood and hauling water from the eddy below camp.
Mom organized the cooking utensils over the wood burning stove, and my brother Jeff rolled out sleeping bags and hung the bows and arrows on the porch nails. Dad cut some deadwood for the cold night’s fires, and the wilderness was abuzz with what I considered the happiest family on planet earth.
Quality of life guiding lessons were driven home on these soul-cleansing expeditions of my youth, teaching me the ultimate hands-on conservation ethic a person could ever understand without ever uttering or hearing the word conservation.
I clearly understood the concept of wise use before I ever heard the actual words, for my father wouldn’t allow us to waste anything.
The thought of throwing out food or water was virtually unheard of, and no one would dare fail to consume every scrap of precious game meat, scraping each delectable sliver of sacred meat from each and every bone.
Though we did do a little plinking with the single shot .22 rifle, every round of .22 short ammo was handled with tender loving care, and every target planned with maximum effect, whether for the aim small miss small discipline, or killing game for the pot.
Every groundhog was handled like the life-giving venison that it represented, and responsible “wise use” didn’t need to be spelled out to the Nugent kids. The pragmatic “waste not want not” mantra was drilled into our heads from birth.
So now these many years later, one need only watch any one of my family, children or grandchildren to see the same attitude and attentiveness to accountability. To caring people, there is no Plan B. It is a tragedy to witness Plan B in action when you see people, especially young people, leave half-consumed bottles of $4 a gallon water discarded everywhere you look and the horror of obesity and a disposable society gone mad.
The good news is that real world hands-on conservation is alive and well and catching on across the America I travel. Not a day goes by where I am not stopped by people of every imaginable description and walk of life in any given city to chat about my “Spirit of the Wild” TV show on the Outdoor Channel or discuss my books, media interviews or various public celebrations about my exciting hunting lifestyle.
There is no question, that but for a sizable lunatic fringe, the majority of people are aware of the incredible success story of wildlife conservation in North America and elsewhere.
The far reaching and irrefutable evidence of more deer, turkey, cougars, black bears, elk, wild geese and other game species flourishing today than in recorded history is hard to hide from.
Though the scam of animal rights is still a scourge to reckon with, we all know that these are the good old days for big game hunting.
The trick of course is for all of us to celebrate and promote this truth every day to everybody in order to educate more people to this wonderful wildlife reality so as to someday stop the Humane Society of the United States and other rip-off artists and scammers from their dirty deeds and money-laundering misinformation crimes.
Only an ignorant, uneducated society will fall for such scams like California banning mountain lion hunting and now turning a thriving black bear population from an asset into an instant liability by banning the use of hounds.