The Types of Hunters You’ll See in the Woods (Part One)

If you spend enough time hunting you’re bound to run into these types of hunters.

The Fudd

Courtesy of @arsenal_616 on Instagram.

Fudds are the drunk uncle of the hunting community. They’re a little bit dumb, a little bit misinformed and way too set in their ways. The 30-06 is the only rifle caliber they believe in, unless they’ve somehow discovered 6.5 Creedmoor and need to shoot an elk in the ass at 600 yards. DANGIT RICKY, THAT SHOULDA DROPPED HIM! The last time a Fudd sighted in their rifle was in 1997 on a Budweiser can, and every time one of them puts on a blaze orange NASCAR hat it sets hunting back 30 years. Fudds don’t pay much attention to season dates and don’t use steel shot for waterfowl. Why? Because they’re Fudds, and they don’t need the gubmint tellin’ them what to do. If you see one you’d better turn and walk the other way, otherwise you might get trapped in an hour-long conversation about how Bill Clinton sold us out to the Chinese.

The Wannabe Influencer

Stop. Just Stop.

Is there anything worse than heading out for a hunt and running into some jackass with a GoPro strapped to their head? These assholes spend more time talking to their cell phone camera than hunting, and they’re the first ones to get called into another hunter’s set. “Alright guys, I could’ve sworn that was the herd bull I listened to last night, but it ended up being another hunter. That’s what happens when you’re a public land hunter like me, I guess. I’ll keep grinding – that bull is out there somewhere. Don’t forget to smash that subscribe button and use code CHAD69 to get 10 percent off at AdamAndEve.com!” F**k off, Chad. I hope you get mauled on-camera. YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO RECEIVE FREE GEAR WITH THE 31 PEOPLE THAT WATCH YOUR VIDEOS.

The Bozeman

Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Joe Biden?

The Bozeman (also referred to as “The Jackson” or “The Boulder”) comes complete with a “Public Land Owner” t-shirt and the most expensive gear money can buy, all so they can shoot a 140 mule deer at 927 yards and make an artsy “film” about it. “See, we hunt just as hard as the poors!” There’s nothing better than having some pretentious dickhead tell you, “Dude, you’d glass way more deer with a Swaro spotter.” YEAH, I KNOW IT’S GREAT GLASS MOTHERF**KER BUT DADDY DOESN’T MAKE MY TRUCK PAYMENT. I have a plastic tote in my basement labeled “hunting clothes.” The Bozeman has a case in their trophy room labeled “technical apparel.” They drink hazy IPA’s, talk about how they’re glad Trump is finally out of office and say we need more diversity in hunting – all while simultaneously hating Black people and living as far away from them as possible. Their wives peg them.

The Salt Dog Local

Nothing but hate and more hate.

A veteran of hunting, the Salt Dog Local is salty as hell and hates everyone. They don’t want to see you. They don’t want to talk to you. They’re hunting because if they weren’t they’d be halfway through a bottle of bourbon and bitching to their German Shepherd about all of the people they’re tired of seeing and talking to. They remember how it used to be and hate how shitty it is now. Under their hardened exterior lies a lifetime of experience and knowledge they’d like to pass on, but can’t, because they know you’d run your mouth and f**k it all up anyway. You’ll know you’ve encountered a “Salt Dog” when you start a conversation and they reply only with “mhmm’s” and “yups.” Killing is their business and business is good – though it’d be a lot better if you weren’t around.

The Late-Onset Locavore

Life of sustenance? Guess I’ll start drinking again. F**k me.

The only connection these people have to hunting is from watching Meateater’s YouTube channel (and it shows). Free-range, farm to table, field to plate, field to fork, finger my ass – I swear to God, they can’t go 30 seconds without telling you how “organic” their meat is. I’VE GOT SOME ORGANIC MEAT FOR YA! (Sorry, couldn’t help it). Everyone that hunts also eats wild game. You’re not special.

If you want to hunt, hunt, but don’t run back to your hipster coffee shop and tell everyone you’re “not like those other hunters.” Oh, I couldn’t care less about antlers. I just like clean, ethical meat. That deer you shot has more fertilizer in it than a bag of Miracle Gro. Can you imagine being the farmer that answers the phone when one of these idiots calls to ask for permission to hunt? “Hi sir, can I come shoot a doe? I just want to know where my food comes from.” BITCH, I’M WHERE YOUR FOOD COMES FROM! WHAT THE F**K DO YOU THINK I’M DOING OUT HERE!? If you find yourself in this category, understand one thing: you’re either pro-hunting in totality or you’re against it. Pick a side and quit apologizing to everyone that doesn’t get it.

The Workout Warrior

Source: Outside Bozeman

Sometimes hunting isn’t enough. Sometimes you’ve got to hunt HARD. And, if you’re gonna hunt HARD, you better be HARD. Err…I mean IN SHAPE. And, if you’re not HARD – not in a gay way or anything – or MOUNTAIN TOUGH, and if you can’t RUN REALLY FAR, you’re probably just a HATER with a SOFT BODY and a WEAK MIND. WOOOO! WHO ELSE IS READY TO SNORT A LINE OF IGNITE OFF THEIR GYM BUDDY’S ASS!?

If you’ve ever served in the military you’re probably familiar with the phrase “accuracy by volume,” and that’s exactly how these people think hunting works. No elk on this mountain? Hammer your way to the next one and pay zero attention to the critters you’ve blown out along the way. Listen, there’s nothing wrong with working out and being in shape – I encourage everyone to be as healthy as possible. But, working out doesn’t make you a good hunter, and no sane person is going to pay for your bootleg workout program.

Who would you like see in part two? Let me know in the comments here or on Instagram @theangrybowhunter.

10 thoughts on “The Types of Hunters You’ll See in the Woods (Part One)

  1. PLEASE include the “I’m not in it to kill something” trad guy who never kills anything but is morally superior because he can’t hit a barn with his arrow, flinches, short-draws, drops his bow arm, “nicks” an animal now and then, got screwed up by compound guys in his spot, and brings dove breasts to the club game feast every year. But he has to tell anyone within earshot about how he is “traditional”, wears a Fedora cocked “just-so” (Jesus help me), a back quiver full of mismatched arrows he found while grubbing around in the grass for his lost arrow, and wears a fucking Bowie knife on his belt at shoots, which, by the way, has never touched a freshly killed animal. Oh, and he passionately HATES compound shooters, and disses them for killing animals with their “motorcycle bows” while he smugly attributes their success strictly to the bow. Disclaimer: I’m one of those trad guys with a trophy room full of big animals, several truly world-class with any weapon, who can’t stand “trad guys”. Like, I’m borderline ashamed to be associated with these ass clowns. Love your work, and please keep it up!

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    • I have actually run into people with GoPros on their head and gear that could pay for a year of my kids college. Funny thing is they’re camo is always perfectly clean.

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  2. The Scavenger: will spend 2 days turning a muskrat into something resembling food, while the shoulder season elk and mule deer doe sniped for IG content sit in the freezer.

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  3. Sad that ‘Bozeman’ developed the reputation it seems to have now. I’m glad I lived and thrived there for 10 years before it got Californicated. It was still a real good place back then.

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  4. I hate to admit it but over the years I’ve played all these roles occasionally. Old Salt is fun when surrounded by a crowd of whippersnappers 😉

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