With a blood-curdling RRROAR, the huge bear suddenly leapt to its feet and raced straight for me—right to the base of my treestand, pounding the ground with its impressive bulk for even more emphasis. It needed none. The dash took maybe three seconds. Then in one fluid motion, the bear raised up on its hind legs and swiped its massive paws at me—first one, then the other—slashing the air within mere inches of the tiny stand platform. Somewhat in shock—with knees seriously knocking—I simultaneously white-knuckled the tiny tree and my bow, and prayed. Maybe 9 feet up, I was inches from an enraged trophy class black bear weighing some 400 pounds. Conservatively. And let me tell you: Inches away, an angry bear that big is impressive as hell.