Wango Bango!

My wonderful son Rocco slithered silently alongside his old man,…

My wonderful son Rocco slithered silently alongside his old man, back in the wild again. We carefully peeked above the early fall wheat, then ducked back down as we crawled toward the thick forest. Like a GI Joe infantryman, 8-year-old Rocco pushed his little .223 Remington 788 ahead of him and remained focused, intent on killing the gnarly swine we’d seen a half hour ago.

All riflemen know the 5.56 round is a bare minimum caliber for any medium-sized big game, but with the 60-grain Black Hills soft point in the magazine, a well placed shot will indeed do the trick. Watching Rocco practice at the range made me proud. He was Sgt. York dead on at 100 yards every shot, and I knew if he had a crack at this 100-pound boar, that pork chops were as good as grilled.

And that he did. Young Rocco took a solid rest on his upright knees in a sitting position, the hog paused as it emerged from the woodline, and in a fluid ballet of sniper proficiency, my son snicked off the safety, settled into his sling, slowly exhaled, and POW-Whoomp! The little slug hit perfectly in the crease behind the boar’s shoulder. It was beautiful.

Now 10 years later, my son and I will occasionally put down our bows and arrows and grab one of our many AR-15 variants and go afield with supreme confidence that a disciplined .223 round of the proper design will cleanly kill any big-game animal up to deer-sized critters. And with the constant evolution of upgraded technology and brilliant engineering, sportsmen across America are being educated out of the fabled “Zumbo” syndrome of old, to realize that these specialized rifles are the cat’s ass for hunting.

ted-nugent-complete-ar-rifleman1ARs and the Mad Fisherman
Just recently I guided my friend Charlie Moore, of Mad Fisherman legend on NESP sports TV out of New England. Crazy Charlie is a master angler, but not a dedicated riflemen by any stretch. The insidious anti-gun carpet bombing by the ultra leftist media in Kennedy country had tainted old Charlie’s perspective on “good guns” versus “bad guns.” As usual, I fixed that pronto, Tonto. A bullet is a bullet, a gun is a gun. Period.

For our fun midsummer pig hunt at Sunrize Acres in Michigan, Charlie and I chose a DPMS zebra-striped EVR from my swelling arsenal. We prolonged our hardware fondling as long as possible, giddy to be surrounded by so many lovely assault weapons. I know they are not assault weapons at all, but I just like calling them so to further confuse the loony anti-gun left. Think of it as a bonus to just another self-evident, truth-based, God-given individual right.

This little custom beauty was not in the traditional .223 caliber, but rather one of my all-time favorites, the mighty .243 Winchester. Topped with a Trijicon Accupoint tactical scope and loaded with Winchester 95-grain Ballistic Tip ammo, I believe we had as fine a semi-auto rifle a hunter could ever dream of.

At the range, Charlie commented how negligible recoil was, even for the mid-powered .243. That’s the beauty of a well designed semi-auto, as energy is channeled into functioning the action instead of the shooter’s shoulder.
The Trijicon Accupoint made bullseyes easy for Charlie and I, as sight acquisition was instantaneous. With confidence glowing, we headed for the pig woods.

Perfect 80-Yard Cast
Charlie settled nicely into the predator groove after awhile, and as we were about to wrap up a long, patience-testing day, we finally had a crack at a fine boar as it made its way through the dense forest toward the waterhole at dusk. Taking advantage of an old oak stump for a solid rest, Charlie made like a seasoned pro and drilled that nasty old hog square through the shoulders at about 80 yards. With a terminal last kick and a squeal, the mud-soaked hog clearly didn’t like the 95-grain, hot-lead pill that blew his pump station to smithereens. Charlie, ripped with delight.

Later that evening, I went on to a lucky rendezvous with a dandy Rusky swine where the mighty DPMS .243 double-tapped a gorgeous boar trotting along at about 90 yards. This bad boy weighed more than 300 pounds with all the handsome features a pig lover admires; long silver, toothy snout, heavy chest, narrow hips, rangy tail and nasty attitude. My spirit pork chops runneth over.

Hogs From Helos
I am preparing for what I believe to be the ultimate black-rifle hunt with American legend and U.S. Navy SEAL hero Marcus Lutrell where I will employ my full-auto M4 from a swooping helicopter. We will attempt to reduce the dangerous over population of wild pigs of South Texas. I believe we have the definitive full circle of the original M16 design—lightweight, high-capacity, super accurate, reliable and easy handling. Evil black rifles are terrific for warriors defending freedom anywhere on the globe, perfect for home and self defense, ideal for small- and big-game hunting, and absolutely spectacular for machine gunning destructive porkers from the air. I feel a nostalgic, emotional tear quelling up in my eyes, but I’m sure I will get over it.

Available in numerous, capable and practical calibers, from .204 Ruger to the heavy hitting .50 Beauwolf whomper, there is an AR variant out there for virtually any rifle fun you are interested in. I love them all.

Get more Ted at tednugent.com.

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