When I started hunting deer in the last quarter of the previous century the .30 calibers (or something pretty dang near) were the overwhelming choice for the Northwoods. It might have been Grandpa’s .30-30, it might have been a .30-06, occasionally somebody would turn up to deer camp with a .270, or even something old-school-exotic like a .35 Remington. Even the occasional surplus .30-40 Kraig or a Mauser would occasionally make an appearance.
But let’s be honest, the .30 bores ruled the deer camp roost. I believe I was 14 when I joined the club, my father found a very nice used Remington 742 in .30-06 which my parents gave me for Christmas. After what I viewed as many long years of paying my dues with slug guns and borrowed rifles, I had arrived.
And I used the old 742 to deadly effect, racking up deer every year including some rather fantastic multi-deer efforts on deer drives where the auto really excelled. Why would I ever mess with success?
25 years passed and I had sons of my own whom I desperately hoped would join me at deer camp someday. And so I took a step on what proved to be the slippery slope of the small-bore. I bought a Tikka in .243 Winchester. Just for the boys, you understand. I’d never really even thought of hunting deer with anything smaller than a .30, but for the kids it seemed ideal.
First, I did my usual load development work at the reloading bench, coming up with a dozen test batches to get the rifle properly sighted in and find the load it liked the best. To my astonishment, the answer to the latter question was simple–the .243 liked EVERYTHING. One load proved to be the winner, but not by very damn much. Everything I tested was way beyond acceptable.
And then I made a big mistake. Purely to make sure the .243 was suitable for a young hunter, I took it to the stand with me one year. When a nice, big-bodied 6-pointer walked out on the far side of the field, I took aim, fired, and to my astonishment the deer absolutely dropped as if it had been hit by lightning.
What followed was a number of years where the .243 served as the “camp rifle” and various hunters racked up deer after deer after deer. But beyond that, what I noticed most was HOW the .243 killed them. Deer after deer never knew what hit them as they tipped over in their tracks. Speed, as it turns out, most definitely kills. In fact, it kills way better than the old .30 caliber fan in me would have ever thought.
And curiosity may or may not have contributed to the demise of the cat, but it certainly got the best of me last year. With all the crazy kids these days jumping on the 6.5 craze with reckless abandon, well, I just had to see what all the hype was about. So I bought a Creedmoor.
Again, to my astonishment, I loved the Creedmoor even moor. Get it? Moor. Anyway, it may have helped that i took the biggest buck of my life with the Creedmoor, but I like to think I’m a little more objective than that. If the .243 was easy, the Creedmoor was easy-peasy. When it comes to ammo, it loves everything. Honestly, rather than finding something that my new Creedmoor shoots well–which is basically everything–the more challenging thing would be to see if there’s anything that it shoots really poorly. So far, I haven’t seen any signs that that is even possible. s
So count me among the converted. My conclusion is that with modern bullets and modern manufacturing, I love the smaller bores and I ain’t goin’ back to lugging the old .30, no way no how.
Has anyone else joined the temple of the small bore?
Grouse