In fading light and during the closing hour of Montana’s 2012 Spring Black Bear Season, David Morris whispered, “Can you take him from here?” It was now or never. At 125 yards the mature burgundy black boar was walking broadside, moving steadily right to left. He plodded along as if he was just passing through with another destination on his mind. David and I knelt beside a tall spruce in the meadow, our last bit of good cover. We had...