By Frank Schultz, as told to Tyler Freel If he puts both paws on the tree, he’s getting shot. I’m not dealing with this shit, I thought to myself as the black bear looked up at us, his small, dark eyes impossible to read. The boar had been huffing, popping his teeth, and swatting at small spruce and alder saplings since he first saw us sitting in our tree stands. In a nervous display of would-be dominance, the young boar made a show of himself, and he ended up at the base of our tree where he was obviously considering climbing up for a closer look. We really didn’t want to kill the bear, but two paws on the tree, that was my line. From where he sat, his head was only 8 or so feet off the end of my 50-caliber muzzleloader. I knew that when they decide to climb, black bears can bound up a tree in a hurry.