In Defense of Fudds

They probably don’t know the difference between a “clip” and a “magazine.” They despise anyone who trains to defend themselves with a firearm (unless that firearm is a revolver and that anyone is Clint Eastwood). They don’t own a gun unless it’s made of wood and steel, and they eschew hunting clothes made of merino wool in favor of flannel, canvas, and (heavens!) denim. Modern gun culture abounds with fudd takedowns. There’s an entire YouTube channel with over 60,000 subscribers called Fudd Busters.

I get it. Fudds can be exasperating. They reject the incredible advantages of modern gun technology and, sometimes, their right to own that technology at all. According to Dictionary.com, a fudd is a gun owner who “uses guns only for hunting or for shooting sports and who opposes the ownership of assault rifles and other automatic firearms intended for defense or attack.”

The axiom “don’t cut off your nose to spite your face” comes to mind. Gun rights, like hunting rights, can’t be carved up without risking damage to the whole. You might not like AR-15’s, just like you might not like trapping or hound hunting, but supporting restrictions on those rifles opens the door to more restrictions on guns you actually do like. Just ask the Brits, the Australians, and the Canadians.

Still, putting aside that contentious issue, I like fudds. I’m an old man at heart despite my nearly 35 trips around the sun, and the older I get, the more I’m drawn to wood and steel over polymer and carbon fiber. Fudds aren’t perfect, no matter how you define them, but there are elements of that mindset that would be a shame to lose.

The first of those positive fuddish (fuddly?) attitudes is a love of what works. Fudds have been using the same hunting rifle or cartridge for decades, and they can’t be convinced to change their ways for love or money. This attitude trends negative when they unfairly or unthinkingly trash newer cartridges or rifle designs, but the positive version is a really admirable thing.

Their wood stock rifle is worn from countless hours at the range and in the field, and its owner knows everything about it: how much it kicks, where it’ll shoot in what kind of conditions, and how to carry it in and out of the blind without scratching the barrel or getting dirt in the bore. Fudds are one-gun hunters. Rather than trade in their rifle every year like an iPhone, they pick what they like, learn to use it, and stick with it.

If you ask me, we could use more of that. There’s no denying that the outdoors have been commercialized, and even though gun engineers are churning out some amazing stuff, I’d rather have a Mariana Trench-deep knowledge of what I already have than a skin-deep knowledge of what I don’t.

For better or worse, a fudd’s knowledge comes from actual experience, not the Internet.

That’s for the worse when personal experience generates a skewed view of reality. The belief that a .223 Rem. can’t take down a deer, for example, likely originated from people using 55-grain FMJ bullets, the cheapest and most readily available offering for an AR-15. A 62-grain hunting bullet can get the job done, but if you’ve lost even a single deer using a .223 Rem., it’s easy to believe that the cartridge is woefully underpowered. In that case, real-world experience would lead you astray, and a quick Internet search would have provided a trove of helpful information.

Still, what I like about fudds is that their advice is based on actual things that happened in the real world. The kid behind the gun counter may think he knows what he’s talking about because he’s read every gun blog on the Internet. But that kind of knowledge is abstracted from the physical reality that we must encounter if we actually do the things we love to read about. The fudd’s real-world experience is skewed, but there’s usually a kernel of truth in it. A .223 Rem. might be able to take down a whitetail, but the fudd knows that he’s never had to track a deer shot with his .30-06. And it’s true–that old Springfield will inflict more internal damage, so while the fudd might not be entirely correct, taking his advice won’t totally lead you astray.

Another attribute of some fuddish folks is that they value their time in the field more than the gun they carry into it. This fella still cares about his firearms, but guns aren’t really his thing. He’s not a gun guy. This often translates to an apathy about gun rights issues. The fudd thinks, “Does this gun control bill limit my ability to go out and chase elk? No? Then I don’t really care.”

This is my biggest beef with the fudds because, like I said at the top, I think it’s short-sighted. At the same time, not every hunter needs to be a gun guy. Not every hunter needs to own an AR-15, just like not every hunter needs to own a pack of hounds.

What’s more, whether you’re a gun guy or not, we could all take a page from the fudds when it comes to their knowledge of the places and species they hunt. That obsessive-compulsive behavior gun guys aim at their firearms, these fudds aim at whitetail behavior or cougar tracking or dog training (or, yes, wabbits). While I disagree with their stance on gun rights, I try to emulate them when it comes to those other elements of the hunt.

You don’t have to be a fudd to have these positive attributes, and some fudds don’t have any of them. These guys mostly just bitch about the things they read in gun magazines and act like they know more than you do about, well, everything.

But as a budding fudd myself, I hope that when I’m 75 and spending my retirement bitching about the gun videos I watch in the Metaverse (assuming such things are allowed in 2065), someone will point out a few of my good qualities as well. Hunting should be a big tent. Everyone has something to offer if you’re willing to look a little closer.