Funny pic/gif thread...


AzB Silver Member
Silver Member


Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
I've got the big brother to your .243 I prefer the .244 or . 6 mm Remington I loaded up some Hornady 55 gr V max bullets for coyotes while out checking on my snare lines .
I shot 3 and they all ran off with no visible sign of injuries from it .
Then I went back to the 70 gr match BTHP Hornady bullets and coyotes started dropping again like they should ranchers like dead coyotes during calving season .

I also like the .25 - 06 Remington with 90 gr HPBT bullets for coyotes and deer also my little .222 Remington doesn't work well in our wind swept country but the other two make up the difference .

I haven't owned a .243, it was just an easy way to reference a hnadful of 6mm rifles or barrels I have owned. Mostly 6PPC for up to 300 yards cutting paper, 6BR for thousand yard plus work. I have shot a handful of .243's and consider it a fine cartridge. It, the parent .308, or any size in between work well down here for anything you want to shoot. The .223 sees a lot of use and will work with a little discretion used. A chuckle, the big twelve point I mentioned was shot with a .222. Like you said, a bit light for a lot of things. Knocked it down with the first shot, but his dad had told him to shoot again if a deer looked like it was getting up. He shot every time the deer twitched and it was shot end to end by the time he was done. A twelve year old boy shot the deer, a before school deer hunt!

The ice house where they hung meat happened to be behind the school between it and the athletic field. Boys, girls, and teachers, slipped off to get a look at that deer that day! Bucks were hard to come by back then, poor management when we didn't know better, and a good hunter might even see a buck every season or two. This was the youngster's first buck, the biggest shot anywhere around that year.

Deer hunting was the second religion around there, right behind Catholicism. My cousin lived on the road to the ice house. A couple hundred yards from it. One year he had scouted a big buck eating the tender young grasses on the edge of the athletic field. First day of the season he shot the deer as soon as it was daylight. Dressed it, hung it in the ice house and was back home drinking coffee when friends started coming by to check why he wasn't deer hunting. "Got mine."