We sometimes hear people say there is no such thing as too much gun and no such thing as overkill. I have recently proven this to be untrue however.
I have been going out walking each morning in an attempt to reduce the body fat numbers on both myself and my companion, Beagle Bailley. On these walks I always carry a rifle for a couple of reasons. First, I always have and just feel naked without it. Second, I can't help but think that the local coyotes regard the slightly pudgy beagle as a kind of canine meal on wheels (or feet). My rifle of choice for these forays is an old #1 Lee Enfield 303.
This rifle is especially suitable for rough use and I have used the steel buttplate to pound nails when replacing a fence rail and it worked well.
Since spring has arrived, Beagle Bailley has slipped into her identity as Beagle Bailley, Rodent exterminator, and has located and killed a half dozen pack rats in the past couple of weeks.
These woods rats nest in old rotten logs and stumps. The beagle locates the nest and bays until I come over and help to tear the log apart. She then grabs the rat (sometimes) as it tries to escape. Now Bailley isn't alone in this endeavor. She has her human (me) and her pointer companion Buddy. Quite often Bailley is intent enough on getting into the log with the rat that she fails to see it make it's run and Buddy does the actual killing.
This particular morning was an exceptional day if your goal is to kill rats and Bailley had located two already and killed one herself. We were on the final leg of our walk and heading for home when I saw a tom turkey and a couple of hens about 50 yards ahead. When Bailley hit their trail she took off in full cry after them. This lasted about 100 yds until she saw them and she shut up and averted her eyes. For some reason Beagle Bailley, a dog who had dedicated herself to ridding the world of chickens, is disturbed by the sight of a bird which is bigger than she is. So when she saw these she turned to rejoin me. Halfway back to me though she spun to her right and faced an old larch log and threw her head up and bayed "rat"!
Well, I trudged up the hill and even I could smell the rat. So, I set the rifle aside and started tearing the log apart. I ripped off a good sized slab and out came the rat. Bailley didn't see it so I grabbed her and pointed her at the rat which was scampering toward a small fir tree. When I let her go she spun around and sailed back into the log. The pointer was still back at the last nest so there was no help coming from that quarter and the rat went up the little tree. Giving it very little thought I grabbed the 303 and let drive at the rat. Now this is where the too much gun comes in. This rat was probably all of 15 feet from the muzzle when I pulled the trigger. It was a center hit and the rat disappeared. He didn't really disappear though. He just spread out. And up. And for the next few seconds it rained rat! My glasses were speckled like a trout. The top of my head, nearly devoid of hair, was wet. This was,in my mind, a definite case of overkill. When I left the scene Beagle Bailley was running in circles baying madly. She could smell a rat but where the hell was it? Sometimes, you can have too much gun! Regards, Bill.

Bill, you're a smart, quirky guy (all good as I believe I'm in both camps!) as that story once again illustrates... I always read your posts and like to hear about that beagle!

Brad

Congratulations Bill - you are now an officially recognized member of the "Red Mist" Society - normally reserved for "traditional" varmints such a prarie dogs, you have succeeded in expanding the sphere of recognized species to the "lowly" rat and I thank you (as there are many rats in this world) - maybe now I won't be looked down upon after spending the night in the city dump, sniping the hoards of rats; so many, I don't believe they can be exterminated (but I will try) Good huntin' to 'ya I like the 22/250 with 52 grain bthp @ approx. 3700FPS (see ya later) KMule

Kmule...you brought up one of my favorite "hunts", if you will.
Dump hunting rats with a light....now thats fun!!!
I havent done that in 20 years...that needs to change!!!....sakofan...thanks for the memories..pressed between the pages of my mind...Ah..forget it..

Talka about bringing back memories.....back in the early '50's, when a 10-year old boy could walk thru the city carrying a gun case with a 22 rifle in it, my cousin and I used to take the bus to the edge of town and walk about 2 miles to the city dump.....back in those days dumps weren't covered with dirt and we would set a corner portion of it on fire and shoot rats as they scurried out into the open...we could usually go thru almost a box of ammo each before we had to high-tail it to avoid getting caught. Modesty stops me from giving a body-count.

In this case, the "good old days" really were.

Bill
Great story!

You know how I feel about pack rats...

Any story that ends in a dead pack rat is a good story!!

Bill, Your stories always crack me up! (but shouldn't you be working on my gun? )

My Dad just had a very similar experience out at the ranch about 3 weeks ago. He let his dog (a boxer, named Flash) out in the yard and within a few seconds he heard her tearing up and across the driveway barking wildly at something. Another few seconds later he saw the dog disappear under the hay trailer and then immediately backpeddle out, yiping and dripping blood from its nose.

So Dad put on his boots, grabbed the coyote medicine from behind the door (220 Swift) and walked over to see what was hiding under the hay trailer. When he got there he found a wierd looking, rat like thing snarling at him too. So he leveled the 220 Swift and let fly, with very similar results. Dad says that the only thing left intact was a long, round beaver-like tail. The rest was spread all over, and apparently much of it came to rest on my Dad's head (which is also follically challenged) and over his glasses. Turns out it was some crazy muskrat on a walkabout, quite a ways from his natural habitat. I guess that would explain the open hostility he was showing.

Dad couldn't believe how it tore that thing apart. He was still giggling about it when I visited him at the ranch a couple days later! Of course I had to go clean the blood off of my poor 220 Swift.

KMuleinAK, I think you will approve. The load was a 36.5 grains of 4064 under a 55gr Hornady V-max moly for 3650 fps.

Cheers,
Canuck