I live rurally, 75 miles northwest of anchorage in big lake Alaska. I have to walk or boat about 3 miles to the nearest road to my house. This ritual has me in constant proximity to a couple generations of browns that live behind my place. In the late 70s, my father dispatched a large blonde grizzly in self defense with what was, at the time, considered a formidable sidearm. A 1962 s+w 29 44 mag. He had pretty standard 1400 f.p.s. Jacketed soft points, Remington I believe. Nothing special, store bought. He said he used the double action, and was nervous. Fired four rounds in steady sequence. Two were superficial, one in shoulder, one disabled the bruin mortally. Dad said it stopped charging, spun around a few times, than fell over and layed there panting until my grandfather, close by, arrived and dispatched it finally with a 338 win mag to the head. I've shoo'd a black out of my kitchen, with a 12 ga. As backup once, and been "bluff-rushed" twice by two different browns. One stared me down so long, I was late for work. Sizing me up. Both times. I u holstered my revolver, cocked it, took aim and waited quietly as they did the same dance. Both advanced at a run...stopped abruptly at about 75 ft, woof loudly, and swat at the earth. I was never so unrealistically calm as both those times, as after they retreat, my heart races and fear grips a bit after the fact. The logic I used originally was, ".44 mag worked for dad" after the first experience I stepped up caliber out of fear and got the biggest thing I could find, which was a magnum research B.f.r. Chambered in 45-70 gvt. I feel more confident with the larger pistol. My father is 69, and STILL carries that same Smith, loaded with essentially the same ammunition. The point of all this being, he had the "experience" and that weapon seems to keep his confidence.