The intense, treeing howls grew louder the more we descended among the mountains of west-central Idaho we were bear hunting. As we entered into a shallow pocket, the echoing bellows muted our voices. The morning-long race had come to a stand-off. Around 60 feet up, on a long, heavy branch, stood a beautiful color-phase bear. Four hounds vied for space around the towering pine, hammering at the seemingly unbothered bear. Ridge, a liver-coated Treeing Walker, was living up to his name, taking a wide berth near the top of the pocket, trying to get the bear’s wind. Another dozen or so dogs bayed around the area, their machine-gunning barks pierci