30.06, between the eyes, ear level, may sound like overkill, to some, but here is a little story, I relate from time to time: Back, when I was in college, in the mid 80's, I thought I would be heap big butcherman, like my grandfather was. Had a 1000-1200lb Charlais steer, to butcher, one cool winter's day, in December. Please Note that a Charlais has one of the thickest skulls, and the most skitterish attitudes, of all cattle breeds, as far as I know. The weapon I chose to dispatch said jumpy steer was the one that my grandfather always used, a Spanish copy, of a S&W 44 Russian Cartridge six shot revolver. A 44 Russian is to a 44 regular as a .22 short is to a .22 magnum, a lightly loaded version, of the original cartridge.
Steeling my courage, with a Budweiser, or 2 before the deed, I stealthily snuck into bully's stall, took careful aim at the front of his skull, point blank, between the eyes, and at ear level. BLAM, I pulled the trigger, confident of a single shot kill. Bully went down, in the open area just outside of his stall, a converted pigpen, in the "lane", which used to be the orchard area of our family farm. I turned, to get my bleeding knife, to cut the arteries of his throat. Got the knife, put the gun on the ledge of the pig pen. Bully shook his head, calmly stood up, with one front foot, on my right foot, so I couldn't reach the gun! He snorted, eyes blaring red, as he pushed me down, into the crap, at the front of the pen, I lost the knife. I managed to roll back into the pen, and grab the gun, and calmly squeeze off the other 5 rounds, into his head, at about the same spot, as the first, as he was chasing me into the stall. He fell several times, and finally staggered back into the lane, with the strangest expression, on his face. He looked at a six wire fence, which separated the 3/4 acre lane, from the 15 acre roughly square pasture, and launched upward, like he had wings. His right rear hoof hit the top wire, and snapped it, as he flew over. He ran out of sight, as I assessed the situation, and headed back to the house, about 200yards away from the scene, ran up stairs, and got the .35 Marlin Rifle, from the cabinet, loaded it, and returned to the field of battle. Bully had run to the bottom of the hill, 1/4 mile away. I drove the '67 international there, and tried to calm him down, as I stalked him. Another shot, to the front of the skull, a little low, but should have been in the money spot. All it did was change his direction, as he ran back to the stable, where I cornered him, for the final showdown! 4 more direct hits, to the money spot, he lay down, and I was able to find an artery, with the knife. After taking care of loading, hanging, skinning, and gutting, it was time to look at that thick head of his. None of the 44 Russians had penetrated, only 2 of the .35 Remingtons had made it through that thick skull. Moral of the story: Use the biggest gun you have first, and have the animal securely confined. By the way, that was the best beef I ever ate!
