VEE-BEAR SWAGGERED OUT of the woods just after sundown, rolled back his lips, snarled, and charged. Bears scattered everywhere -- all but one fat, glossy sow. The broad-chested male sidled up to the female, rubbed his snout across hers, and started to gobble chocolate cake. It was a typical evening on a Danny Dyer black bear bait.

During the first three days of stand sitting, I had seen 16 bears. It was late May, and the rut was just beginning. Males of various sizes were strutting their stuff for the girls, popping out to feed at the bait barrel as early as 5 p.m. But the boss bear was old Vee. When he showed up, the would-be competition fled.

Watching Vee-Bear for the second time in three nights, I debated my sanity. Here was a long-bodied, well-furred animal whose back was only three inches below the top of the 34-inch bait barrel. His head was massive, with a crease down the top and bulging muscle mounds on either side. The ears looked small, the belly hung low, and the animal rolled along on wide, pigeon-toed paws. He would weigh 350 pounds for sure -- probably more -- and the hide would measure over six feet. But that was not the best part. Across his chest, like a bold artist's design, was a wide, pure-white "V" that stretched to each rippling shoulder blade. Above that were two bold white stripes across the throat. I had never seen a jet-black bear with such dramatic and beautiful markings.

But before the hunt, I had set my mind on a seven-foot black bear or nothing. Such a bear would stand as tall as the bait barrel, and in Danny Dyer's vast New Brunswick hunting concession, a fair number of black bears meet that standard. Vee-Bear was special, but I wanted extra-special.

Night fell, and soon the headlights of Danny's 4WD pickup stabbed the darkness. I could hear bears galloping away as the engine noise grew louder. This was a great bear stand.

From left, Chris, Danny, and Lawrence Dyer run a hunting camp that spans three generations and more than 50 years.

THIS WAS MY SECOND spring bowhunt with Lawrence Dyer & Sons Outfitters. During three generations and more than 50 years of hosting clients, Danny's dad, Lawrence, along with Danny and Danny's son Chris have made dreams come true for thousands of black bear hunters. In 2002, my buddy Doyle Shipp and I shared this magic.

Now we were back in 2004 with two more friends. My brother-in-law Randall True is a great pal and avid archer, but he had never hunted bears. He's a psychiatrist by trade, and a good one. When he's along, I joke about taking my personal therapist.

My friend Gene Arneson had arrowed deer, elk, and antelope, but never a black bear. As a member of a helicopter medical rescue team, Gene has nerves of steel. But he admitted to being slightly shaky in anticipation of taking a bruin. Hunting will do that to you.

After a full day of flying to Presque Isle, Maine, followed by 1 1/2 hours of driving to Plaster Rock, New Brunswick, we were tired but excited. We settled into Danny's plush lodge, got halfway organized, and hit the sack. For-tunately, we didn't need to get up early. Departure for bait sites would occur about 2 p.m.

To the uninitiate, spring black bear baiting might not seem esthetically pleasing or fair, but I'm here to tell you the experience is terrific. Baited bears are not pushovers. Older trophy males visit baits infrequently and often after dark. They circle to test the wind, watch smaller feeding bears with a wary eye, and ease in with senses revved to the max. Big, bait-wise black bears are anything but easy.

While you wait for a shooter, you often get quite a show, too, as smaller bears feed, fight, and posture in front of you -- your own private zoo without fences. I love to photograph bears from my stand.