bstewy
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Got it done this year on my once in a lifetime tag! I’m more than blessed to have even drawn the tag, let alone actually shoot a beautiful bull. Here’s the story.
On may 16th, the day before the Utah Big game Draw results post in 2024, I sat on my stairs looking at a Facebook post on how one could “cheat” to see your draw results. While thinking to myself that it would be cool to know, surely it can’t be true, but of course I had to try. I pulled up my account and zipped over to the draw history and immediately saw that I had put in for my limited entry bull elk, and once in a lifetime bull moose. Next to the elk stared clearly, “UNSUCCESSFUL”, while next to the Bull Moose, it stated a number MB6007. I didn’t know what that meant as it didn’t state clearly “successful”, but to add to the suspense, 3 years earlier I had drawn a cow elk tag that had stated the hunt ID instead of Unsuccessful. My heart immediately began to race and my mind started going a million miles per hour as I realized that I had more than likely drawn my once in a lifetime tag with only 15 points. While I didn’t want to let myself get excited just in case I didn’t actually pull the tag, I waiting until the next day to see what the email from the DNR said. “Dear BRIDGER, thank you for applying in Utah's Big Game Hunt drawing. Your results are as follows: Bull Moose: SUCCESSFUL, MB6007, NORTH SLOPE THREE CORNERS WEST/DAGGETT”
This story doesn’t start in May of 2024. Every year on the 4th of July, my mothers side of the family would get together to head up to the flaming gorge area for a week-long camping trip. 4 wheeling, fishing, kayaking, hiking, and watching wildlife was what we would do to pass the time. Seeing a moose or 2 on these trips was always a given. I fell in love with this area and I can remember these camping trips better than I can remember my own birthday parties! When I was finally of age, my grandpa gave my mom a call to let her know it was time to get Bridger up to deer camp. After getting my hunters safety, late September called. We said our goodbyes to mom and grandma as we headed up to my first deer camp. After a couple of days I turned to my grandpa saying, “I want to hunt my bull moose up here. That is my dream hunt.” While maintaining this dream, times changed as we all started going our own ways. Our family camping trips faded into past memories, the sacred deer camp split ways into different units, beginning our own traditions off of what we learned. Regardless of the change, fast forward about 18 years, here we are with a bull moose tag in my pocket.
September came very quickly after drawing the tag. Due to many busy days at home and other family obligations, 2024 has up to this point resulted as the busiest year of my life. I could not find a weekend or a couple of days to get up and scout. Feeling very ill-prepared, while being as ready as I could be. Being the day before the opener, it was time to head up to the north slope. I packed my things, kissed my wife and child goodbye and headed up alone for the opening weekend.
The drive up was incredibly nostalgic. I hadn’t been to the north slope in over 10 years, but it felt like I was going home comfortably. I knew exactly where I would camp, as well as where I would go to scout. I set my standard for the size of moose I would be happy with, and was also ready to accept my fate on having to pack it out alone.
After setting up camp, I jumped in the side by side and took off to look for a moose. While that evening, not a moose was to be found, there were plenty of beef cows, archery elk hunters, and locals coming up to camp for the weekend. Nobody that I had talked to had seen a moose anywhere in the area, my spirits were already starting to get down even though the hunt had not even started. Trying to sleep the night before the opener was one of the most stressful and inefficient nights of sleep I’ve ever had in my life. Regardless, the 5:00 am alarm sounded, it was time to find a moose. I ate my breakfast, drank my caffeine, and made my way up to where I thought was the moosiest spot for opening morning. While for sure things felt moosie, no moose wanted to show itself. Utilizing on-X, I’d hike into marshy meadows with willows, small ponds, I’d even go to areas where I had historically seen moose before. Opening morning came to a close with no sign of a moose. I decided to try another area to get a feel for things where we had historically always seen moose as well. On my way there, I finally put my eyes on my first moose, which was being hung in a tree by a fellow moose hunter. I stopped to congratulate him and engage in some small talk. Turns out he had been scouting for weeks and never saw a single moose, so he hired an outfitter. This only added to the doubt and stress that a once in a lifetime tag gives you. A little later, another hunter with a moose loaded in the back of his truck drove by. I was kind of thinking that maybe this was going to be a lot harder, or even a lot more work than I had previously thought, and began regretting not being able to find time to scout. Regardless of the tricks your mind plays on you, I made my way up to another area that sits at the base of the red cliffs of the high Uintas. On the way up, to my surprise, there is a little pull out area off the side of the road that gets you a cellphone signal. Through what felt like a million notifications, 1 message came through from my close cousin Hazen saying, “we are on our way, see you in a couple hours.” After doing the math between when I received the message and his estimated drive time, we met up at the base camp, set up his stuff, then blasted out to an area I thought would hold a bull. The day ended yet again without seeing any moose.Thus ended my first day of only 3 I’d be able to hunt on the opening weekend.
The next morning, we huddled for breakfast to come up with a game plan to hit a couple of areas a little higher, as well as lower in the unit to see if we would be able to turn up a bull. Grandma and Grandpa would always talk about the moose up by Spirit lake. There are high country meadows and marshes that have always kept the moose close by. Grandma always would run into a few moose down by Elk Meadows and Deep Creek over toward the highway. We began our hike up by Spirit lake with the plan to make a big loop at about 4 miles. A mile in and we are finally lucky enough to see our first moose, a cow and calf feeding in a lilypad pond. Moving our way through the rest of the loop, we saw no more moose. Back to the truck, and down towards Deep Creek. In this area we decided to hit the small roads that took us to the steep canyon with a marshy bottom and a beautiful river. We glassed every corner, listened for any rut activity and looked carefully for sign. We saw another cow feeding out on a side hill without a care in the world, unfortunately, she did not have a male companion with her. The day was beginning to wind down. We were optimistic that our plan for the day brought us moose and figured that if we were to hold to the same plan or route, we’d eventually bump into a bull especially with the rut coming on. While we still had some daylight, we headed back to an area close to camp that was closer to some private property, as well as the Wyoming/Utah state line. We met the sunset in a secluded canyon that was full of cows and a beat up road. Day 2 was coming to its end, so we headed back toward camp. We conversed about how we would hunt in the morning, then end the day around noon to pack up to head back home to Utah Valley. Halfway through our conversation we passed by a meadow by the old military canal when I noticed a big black figure walking out of the willows. I instantly knew that this was a bull moose. “Oh my hell guys.. That's a big ol’ bull…and its past shooting light.. son of a gun.” He was a nice bull. Paddles in the back with scoops up front. Not the biggest bull, but without a doubt a bull i’d be very happy filling my once in a lifetime tag with. “Well, that sucks. What do you want to do, Bridge?” my cousin asked. “Drive me out of here right now. I’m going to be sick to my stomach knowing that guy is just going to hang out here all night, right by camp.”
It was a long night, and needed sleep was a stranger to me. Regardless, we woke up before the first sign of the sun, got loaded up, and headed back over to that meadow. Of course I am hoping that things did not change from the night before, and hopefully wished that time would have paused to pull up to the meadow only to have the bull positioned in the same broadside position only 70 yards away. This was not the case, the meadow was empty. We waited, glassed, listened, smelled, and whatever else we could think of just to see if we were able to make that bull reappear. While this proved to not work, we decided we’d make a loop on the road that surrounded the area after waiting a few more minutes. “Hazen, will you pull forward a couple more feet so I can check the back area of this meadow?” I asked. “I’m not sure that bull is going to be in here. I read that they could move up to 5 mil….BULL!!! BULL!!! 2 BULLS RIGHT HERE!” Hazen spotted 2 bulls right above us on the other side of the road. “ The one on the right is bigger! He’s a good bull, Bridge!” Hazen yelled in a whisper as I attached my bipod and set up my gun to take the shot. Placing the bull in my crosshairs, I could see the 2 bulls, and the one in the back was pretty nice. “The bull up front is bigger, that's the one you want.” Hazen stated insistingly. I pulled out my rangefinder and tried to range as best I could while violently shaking. 138 yards. “Oh man, all day long.” I whispered to myself, confidently knowing that I have practiced to shoot quarter tight groups at 200 yards. I looked through my crosshairs again and saw the paddles of the bull that was in front. He was definitely the bull I wanted to shoot. I aimed, breathed, aimed some more, breathed some more, but just could not get past the shaking. I looked over at my cousin and looked him right in the eye and told him, “I am shaking so badly, I need to stop.” By calling myself out I knew I would come to my senses, and that's exactly what I did. I put the crosshairs right on the 10 ring and gently squoze a shot off. “BOOM…WHAP.” “That's a dead bull,” I told hazen. We watched him go down not 5 yards from where he was hit. We made our way up to the grounded bull and to our surprise, the other bull and a cow were feeding right next to us as I was able to put my hands on my Once in a lifetime Bull Moose. “He’s a 7x9 and has great paddles. I never dreamed I would have ever been able to harvest a bull like this in my home state.. What a dream come true.”
With the bull moose down, the adrenaline and stress seemed to have disappeared without a trace. We sat in the cool morning air with incredible appreciation as we looked over the entire valley of the Uinta mountains reminiscing about the beautiful country we grew up spending so much time in. My bull ended up being 7x9 with a 36.5” wide frame. He weighed way more than I should have been packing on my back, but with gratitude we made 4 trips at 138 yards down to the truck.
On may 16th, the day before the Utah Big game Draw results post in 2024, I sat on my stairs looking at a Facebook post on how one could “cheat” to see your draw results. While thinking to myself that it would be cool to know, surely it can’t be true, but of course I had to try. I pulled up my account and zipped over to the draw history and immediately saw that I had put in for my limited entry bull elk, and once in a lifetime bull moose. Next to the elk stared clearly, “UNSUCCESSFUL”, while next to the Bull Moose, it stated a number MB6007. I didn’t know what that meant as it didn’t state clearly “successful”, but to add to the suspense, 3 years earlier I had drawn a cow elk tag that had stated the hunt ID instead of Unsuccessful. My heart immediately began to race and my mind started going a million miles per hour as I realized that I had more than likely drawn my once in a lifetime tag with only 15 points. While I didn’t want to let myself get excited just in case I didn’t actually pull the tag, I waiting until the next day to see what the email from the DNR said. “Dear BRIDGER, thank you for applying in Utah's Big Game Hunt drawing. Your results are as follows: Bull Moose: SUCCESSFUL, MB6007, NORTH SLOPE THREE CORNERS WEST/DAGGETT”
This story doesn’t start in May of 2024. Every year on the 4th of July, my mothers side of the family would get together to head up to the flaming gorge area for a week-long camping trip. 4 wheeling, fishing, kayaking, hiking, and watching wildlife was what we would do to pass the time. Seeing a moose or 2 on these trips was always a given. I fell in love with this area and I can remember these camping trips better than I can remember my own birthday parties! When I was finally of age, my grandpa gave my mom a call to let her know it was time to get Bridger up to deer camp. After getting my hunters safety, late September called. We said our goodbyes to mom and grandma as we headed up to my first deer camp. After a couple of days I turned to my grandpa saying, “I want to hunt my bull moose up here. That is my dream hunt.” While maintaining this dream, times changed as we all started going our own ways. Our family camping trips faded into past memories, the sacred deer camp split ways into different units, beginning our own traditions off of what we learned. Regardless of the change, fast forward about 18 years, here we are with a bull moose tag in my pocket.
September came very quickly after drawing the tag. Due to many busy days at home and other family obligations, 2024 has up to this point resulted as the busiest year of my life. I could not find a weekend or a couple of days to get up and scout. Feeling very ill-prepared, while being as ready as I could be. Being the day before the opener, it was time to head up to the north slope. I packed my things, kissed my wife and child goodbye and headed up alone for the opening weekend.
The drive up was incredibly nostalgic. I hadn’t been to the north slope in over 10 years, but it felt like I was going home comfortably. I knew exactly where I would camp, as well as where I would go to scout. I set my standard for the size of moose I would be happy with, and was also ready to accept my fate on having to pack it out alone.
After setting up camp, I jumped in the side by side and took off to look for a moose. While that evening, not a moose was to be found, there were plenty of beef cows, archery elk hunters, and locals coming up to camp for the weekend. Nobody that I had talked to had seen a moose anywhere in the area, my spirits were already starting to get down even though the hunt had not even started. Trying to sleep the night before the opener was one of the most stressful and inefficient nights of sleep I’ve ever had in my life. Regardless, the 5:00 am alarm sounded, it was time to find a moose. I ate my breakfast, drank my caffeine, and made my way up to where I thought was the moosiest spot for opening morning. While for sure things felt moosie, no moose wanted to show itself. Utilizing on-X, I’d hike into marshy meadows with willows, small ponds, I’d even go to areas where I had historically seen moose before. Opening morning came to a close with no sign of a moose. I decided to try another area to get a feel for things where we had historically always seen moose as well. On my way there, I finally put my eyes on my first moose, which was being hung in a tree by a fellow moose hunter. I stopped to congratulate him and engage in some small talk. Turns out he had been scouting for weeks and never saw a single moose, so he hired an outfitter. This only added to the doubt and stress that a once in a lifetime tag gives you. A little later, another hunter with a moose loaded in the back of his truck drove by. I was kind of thinking that maybe this was going to be a lot harder, or even a lot more work than I had previously thought, and began regretting not being able to find time to scout. Regardless of the tricks your mind plays on you, I made my way up to another area that sits at the base of the red cliffs of the high Uintas. On the way up, to my surprise, there is a little pull out area off the side of the road that gets you a cellphone signal. Through what felt like a million notifications, 1 message came through from my close cousin Hazen saying, “we are on our way, see you in a couple hours.” After doing the math between when I received the message and his estimated drive time, we met up at the base camp, set up his stuff, then blasted out to an area I thought would hold a bull. The day ended yet again without seeing any moose.Thus ended my first day of only 3 I’d be able to hunt on the opening weekend.
The next morning, we huddled for breakfast to come up with a game plan to hit a couple of areas a little higher, as well as lower in the unit to see if we would be able to turn up a bull. Grandma and Grandpa would always talk about the moose up by Spirit lake. There are high country meadows and marshes that have always kept the moose close by. Grandma always would run into a few moose down by Elk Meadows and Deep Creek over toward the highway. We began our hike up by Spirit lake with the plan to make a big loop at about 4 miles. A mile in and we are finally lucky enough to see our first moose, a cow and calf feeding in a lilypad pond. Moving our way through the rest of the loop, we saw no more moose. Back to the truck, and down towards Deep Creek. In this area we decided to hit the small roads that took us to the steep canyon with a marshy bottom and a beautiful river. We glassed every corner, listened for any rut activity and looked carefully for sign. We saw another cow feeding out on a side hill without a care in the world, unfortunately, she did not have a male companion with her. The day was beginning to wind down. We were optimistic that our plan for the day brought us moose and figured that if we were to hold to the same plan or route, we’d eventually bump into a bull especially with the rut coming on. While we still had some daylight, we headed back to an area close to camp that was closer to some private property, as well as the Wyoming/Utah state line. We met the sunset in a secluded canyon that was full of cows and a beat up road. Day 2 was coming to its end, so we headed back toward camp. We conversed about how we would hunt in the morning, then end the day around noon to pack up to head back home to Utah Valley. Halfway through our conversation we passed by a meadow by the old military canal when I noticed a big black figure walking out of the willows. I instantly knew that this was a bull moose. “Oh my hell guys.. That's a big ol’ bull…and its past shooting light.. son of a gun.” He was a nice bull. Paddles in the back with scoops up front. Not the biggest bull, but without a doubt a bull i’d be very happy filling my once in a lifetime tag with. “Well, that sucks. What do you want to do, Bridge?” my cousin asked. “Drive me out of here right now. I’m going to be sick to my stomach knowing that guy is just going to hang out here all night, right by camp.”
It was a long night, and needed sleep was a stranger to me. Regardless, we woke up before the first sign of the sun, got loaded up, and headed back over to that meadow. Of course I am hoping that things did not change from the night before, and hopefully wished that time would have paused to pull up to the meadow only to have the bull positioned in the same broadside position only 70 yards away. This was not the case, the meadow was empty. We waited, glassed, listened, smelled, and whatever else we could think of just to see if we were able to make that bull reappear. While this proved to not work, we decided we’d make a loop on the road that surrounded the area after waiting a few more minutes. “Hazen, will you pull forward a couple more feet so I can check the back area of this meadow?” I asked. “I’m not sure that bull is going to be in here. I read that they could move up to 5 mil….BULL!!! BULL!!! 2 BULLS RIGHT HERE!” Hazen spotted 2 bulls right above us on the other side of the road. “ The one on the right is bigger! He’s a good bull, Bridge!” Hazen yelled in a whisper as I attached my bipod and set up my gun to take the shot. Placing the bull in my crosshairs, I could see the 2 bulls, and the one in the back was pretty nice. “The bull up front is bigger, that's the one you want.” Hazen stated insistingly. I pulled out my rangefinder and tried to range as best I could while violently shaking. 138 yards. “Oh man, all day long.” I whispered to myself, confidently knowing that I have practiced to shoot quarter tight groups at 200 yards. I looked through my crosshairs again and saw the paddles of the bull that was in front. He was definitely the bull I wanted to shoot. I aimed, breathed, aimed some more, breathed some more, but just could not get past the shaking. I looked over at my cousin and looked him right in the eye and told him, “I am shaking so badly, I need to stop.” By calling myself out I knew I would come to my senses, and that's exactly what I did. I put the crosshairs right on the 10 ring and gently squoze a shot off. “BOOM…WHAP.” “That's a dead bull,” I told hazen. We watched him go down not 5 yards from where he was hit. We made our way up to the grounded bull and to our surprise, the other bull and a cow were feeding right next to us as I was able to put my hands on my Once in a lifetime Bull Moose. “He’s a 7x9 and has great paddles. I never dreamed I would have ever been able to harvest a bull like this in my home state.. What a dream come true.”
With the bull moose down, the adrenaline and stress seemed to have disappeared without a trace. We sat in the cool morning air with incredible appreciation as we looked over the entire valley of the Uinta mountains reminiscing about the beautiful country we grew up spending so much time in. My bull ended up being 7x9 with a 36.5” wide frame. He weighed way more than I should have been packing on my back, but with gratitude we made 4 trips at 138 yards down to the truck.
