Dispatch pistol?

Keltec P17 in the chest pack, very light. As to anyone approaching my vehicle while I'm in the distance, I think designating them with a non-eyesafe green laser will alter their intentions.
 
I carry a Taurus 444 Ultralite 4in .44mag(27 Oz) or a Taurus 856 Ultralite 3" .38spcl(17 Oz) Titanium revolver with a speed strip.
Lightweight, Deadly and no evidence left behind.
SJC
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I used to carry a Walther P22 but I've ran into more meth heads than I can count over the years in the middle of nowhere and have moved to a Glock G48MOS. I run 147gr loads thats subsonic. I also carry a Rugged Surge suppressor to dispatch discretely if needed and protects my ears. I can fight if need be or finish a cripple and the system works well.

I carry this setup everywhere except in grizzly country where I carry a Glock 20 in 10mm with HOT loads!
 
I have a holstered XDm 40 on the ATV when riding around the kid's ranch. Never know what is out there.
Edit: got it when they first came out, very reliable - gets lot of use even with cast. Same with XDs 9.
 
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S&W M63-no dash. Carried in an El Paso Saddlery high-ride pancake holster, you never know it's there until you want it. CCI Small Game Bullets are accurate, hit hard, and penetrate skulls easily. It handles its business without ringing your eardrums. A couple of reloads of .22LR are not bulky or heavy. It will finish off predators, big game, tag a rabbit or squirrel for the skillet, or turn a copperhead snake into just a copper____ snake, and is fun to plink with at the end of the day if you want. Maybe not optimal for two-legged vermin, but if the long gun is put away and this is what I have, I don't feel unarmed because I have the will and the skill. It is the quintessential "Kit Gun."

 
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DAA said:
Never had any reason to even consider carrying one. - DAA
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Me neither. When I might have one that could possibly have a little life left in it, I carry what I carried when I trapped, a 2 ft section of pick axe handle with the grip end covered with hockey stick tape.
 
A .22 for sure. If you ever run across a wounded bobcat and don't have one and decide you're gonna stomp it out, you'll never think much of a little extra weight to carry around again. Those things are more powerful than you would ever think. And a bobcat you think is almost dead can come back to life pretty quick and do its very best to slice you up when you put your boot on it.

I can speak from experience. Been there, done that. I came away from that experience without any damage. I learned from that experience, I don't particularly care for doctors visits. So that was a one and done for me. Having those claws rake up my jeans and tickle my leg made me rethink leaving a pistol at home.

That bobcat was shot in the head with a .22 magnum and tried to slice and dice me. He went from 2% battery to 100% in a quick hurry. Ain't no such thing as almost dead. If it's still breathing it can get up and climb you like a tree.
 
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OKRattler said:
A .22 for sure. If you ever run across a wounded bobcat and don't have one and decide you're gonna stomp it out, you'll never think much of a little extra weight to carry around again. Those things are more powerful than you would ever think. And a bobcat you think is almost dead can come back to life pretty quick and do its very best to slice you up when you put your boot on it.

I can speak from experience. Been there, done that. I came away from that experience without any damage. I learned from that experience, I don't particularly care for doctors visits. So that was a one and done for me. Having those claws rake up my jeans and tickle my leg made me rethink leaving a pistol at home.

That bobcat was shot in the head with a .22 magnum and tried to slice and dice me. He went from 2% battery to 100% in a quick hurry. Ain't no such thing as almost dead. If it's still breathing it can get up and climb you like a tree.
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Lessons learned... My Dad shot a big bobcat that was slinking into my mouth calling. Dad hit him at around 45-50 yards, shooting a 12-gauge load of No. Four Buckshot. The cat was on the bank of a wet weather creek drainage, and at the shot it rolled over the bank and out of sight. That happened early in the stand so we finished the stand, probably another 10 minutes then gathered up our gear and went over to where he had shot the cat expecting to find it in the rocky creek bed. It wasn't there.

There was a light dusting of snow, so tracking the cat wasn't hard. It had ran down the creek bed under the overhanging embankment for about 75 yards and then crawled up under the overhang out of sight. Dad had to get down on his belly to look up in there. He could see the cat's hindquarters, so he poked it with his shotgun barrel and got no reaction. Thinking the cat was dead he worked his arm up in there and grabbed the cat by the hind leg. When Dad grabbed that cat, there was an explosion of violence under that overhang. The cat somehow doubled itself back and raked Dad's head and face with several lightning-fast jabs and then crawled back up under the overhang. The sound that cat made sent shivers through me. I was standing several feet back in the creek bed. I knew Dad was getting worked over, and there wasn't anything I could do really. It was over within a few seconds.

Dad backed himself out of there and looked at me like survivors of car wrecks look immediately after the wreck. He got lucky; the cat's first raking slap landed in such a way that it dragged Dad's hat down over his face. The cat's claws shredded the upper part of the hat, but the stiff brim protected most of Dad's face. The hat was trashed, and Dad had a couple of bloody scratches on top of his head, and a couple of long claw marks leaked blood on his cheek and chin. After we inventoried the wounds and realized he had both eyes, a nose, and both ears, it was time to settle up. Dad lay back down there, stuck the shotgun barrel up into the cat, and pulled the trigger. We didn't even pull what was left of the cat out of the hole. I carried a little first aid kit and washed Dad's wounds with some water from my drinking bottle, dried them, smeared a little antiseptic cream into the scratches, and we went on hunting. Dad made the joke that if I carried the first aid kit, next hunt he would pack a clean pair of underwear just in case. Don't ever underestimate a bobcat.
 
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