January 2026
Shiras Moose Hunting | Wyoming
Story By: Kevin Jaegers
A once-in-a-lifetime hunt like this doesn’t start when your boots hit the ground in Western Wyoming. It starts twenty-plus years before, when you begin applying. This article is for my mom and dad, the hardest workers I have ever known.
I remember asking my dad as a kid, “What tags did you apply for this year?”
He said, “All the regular tags and some trophy tags too. Trophy zones for elk, mule deer, and moose. These are once-in-a-lifetime tags. When I retire, we’ll have a chance to hunt some trophy zones in Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and Wyoming. You need a lot of points for these zones. But we’ll get them one day, twenty years from now.”
For a kid, that was hard to fathom, but dad was steadfast and patient. He knew it would pay off. He stayed the course for twenty-four drawings.
The excitement he felt when he checked his tags and saw he was successful for Wyoming bull moose must have been intense. I wish I could have seen it. His excitement spread fast through our family; his was the first successful moose drawing we’d had. Everyone knew it was the product of many years of tenacity and luck.
In an ideal situation, you hope to get your bearings fast and understand the country. You do your homework ahead of time—study the zone and all the maps you can find. You enjoy the discovery of the area for at least a few days and get to pick a nice animal. Dad had allotted two weeks for this hunt. He planned for everything.
The hunting party consisted of five sets of eyes: my dad, Guy; my mom, Lisa; my brother, Scott; and Zane and Logan Hedges. On day one, they quickly found a place where they could glass for miles in every direction. The bulls were starting to move around looking for cows, and they saw many non-shooter bulls throughout the day.
They’d heard of a big bull—named “Freddy” for his long, Freddy Krueger-like tines. Everyone was hoping to get lucky enough to see him. A fat sage hen kept them company through the morning. It circled around them and fed right up to their feet. Up on the side of the mountain, a cow and calf moose had been in and out of view all day. Towards early evening, a shooter bull showed up, tracking the pair. Everyone’s eyes were on the show, and they started talking about going after the bull in the morning. But Freddy was nowhere to be seen until the last minutes of light when, several miles away, a bull was spotted moving along the horizon. Zane zoomed in with his 95 mm Swarovski spotting scope. It was a good bull, big and wide—Freddy. You can’t beat a day like that.
In the early-morning hours of day two, Zane spotted the cow, calf, and shooter bull from the day before up on a mountain. Everyone watched this bull for some time through Zane’s Swarovski and agreed it was a shooter. It was decided that they’d get the horses ready, wait for him to bed down, then pack up the mountain for an evening stalk. Out of nowhere, in the middle of planning, Zane and Logan, glassing west, said, “There he is…”
Freddy presented himself striding through a clearing between patches of aspens and pines, his black cape contrasting against the beautiful, green landscape. He was 400 yards out, grunting and heading right for them. It was unreal. He had a touch of the rut in his eyes and was out searching for cows. He didn’t yet have any broken tines from fighting. In only a few moments, he was broadside. Dad raised his 300 Win Mag for an offhand shot at 100 yards and harvested Freddy with a single, hand-loaded, 205 grain Berger bullet. He did it effortlessly, like only a seasoned hunter can do. The bull of a lifetime.
Scott and Dad were astonished walking up to this bull. He was as big as you’d dare to dream: wide, tall, and heavy. Exactly what you’d hope for from a once-in-a-lifetime Wyoming moose hunt. They all stood there admiring Freddy, feeling proud of their success. It was time to snap a few pictures and dress out the moose.
Zane, with his extensive knowledge of the trail and road systems in the area, was somehow able to position a vehicle 100 yards below the downed moose—perfect for the pack out! With four people holding legs, caping out, pulling off quarters, and trimming and bagging meat, the work went quickly. The young guys—Scott (a power-system lineman) and Zane (a recently graduated athlete)—started hauling game bags down to the rig. A whole moose, and no horses needed.
On day four, they packed the processed meat away in coolers and departed Western Wyoming. After a thirteen-hour drive, only stopping in Wendover, Nevada for lunch, they got him home.
As we packed the freezer full of meat that evening, I looked at Freddy’s giant rack and thought to myself, “He’s not just a trophy you admire. He’s not just meat in the freezer. Freddy is a symbol of a lifetime of hard work, dedication, and patience.”
It’s really special that my dad has read every issue of Huntin’ Fool Magazine almost from its inception. Our family would like to thank Zane and Logan Hedges and Huntin’ Fool Magazine for helping this dream come true.