Understanding What the .22 LR Can and Cannot Do

The humble .22 Long Rifle may be the only cartridge that can teach a child to shoot, win an Olympic medal, and still be the wrong choice when your life is on the line.

Story Snapshot

The .22 LR was engineered in 1887 as a deliberate balance of accuracy, recoil, and power—not an accident of history.
Its strengths make it unmatched for training, plinking, and small‑game hunting, but those same strengths expose hard limits.
Trusted for generations, the .22 LR nevertheless falls short for large game and serious self‑defense by any common‑sense standard.
Understanding where the .22 shines—and where it does not—is the real mark of a responsible, informed gun owner.

How an 1887 Engineering Fix Became the World’s Favorite Cartridge

J. Stevens Arms & Tool Company did not set out to make a legend; they set out to fix a problem shooters kept complaining about. Earlier .22 rimfire rounds had split personalities: the .22 Short and .22 Long were fun and handy but lacked punch for hunting, while the .22 Extra Long carried a heavier bullet but sacrificed accuracy and practicality. Stevens merged the Long’s case with the Extra Long’s 40‑grain bullet—and the .22 Long Rifle quietly changed shooting forever.

That 1887 decision to chase balance instead of extremes explains why the .22 LR still dominates today. The rimfire design, with priming compound spun into the case rim, made manufacturing inexpensive at scale while keeping ignition simple. Shooters suddenly had a cartridge that recoiled lightly, cost very little to shoot, and still offered enough performance for realistic small‑game work. Generations of American kids and adults alike have learned sight picture and trigger control with that single engineering compromise.

From Parlor Trick to Backbone of American Marksmanship

The .22 LR did not emerge from a vacuum; it stands on four decades of trial and error. Louis‑Nicolas Flobert’s 1845 .22 BB Cap barely used powder at all and existed for parlor shooting at whisper‑level power. Smith & Wesson’s 1857 .22 Short stretched that idea into a real revolver round, pushing a 29‑grain bullet with around four grains of black powder for casual shooting and last‑ditch defense. The .22 Long (1871) and Extra Long (1880) kept adding case capacity and bullet weight, but none struck the right balance until Stevens did.

Once the .22 LR arrived, it quickly became the default rimfire standard. Early repeaters favored it because its modest pressures and dimensions worked reliably in tubular magazines and simple actions. By World War II, the U.S. military relied on .22 LR for economical training and marksmanship development, even fielding full‑metal‑jacket variants for specialized use by OSS agents. Hollow‑point designs, better propellants, and match‑grade manufacturing in the mid‑20th century sharpened its role from backyard plinking round to serious competition and hunting tool, without changing its original DNA.

Where the .22 LR Earns Its Reputation for Versatility

The .22 LR is at its honest best when used for what its ballistics support. A typical 40‑grain load around 1000 feet per second from a rifle delivers roughly 44 foot‑pounds of energy—enough for rabbits, squirrels, and other small game within sensible ranges when the shooter does their part. That same low recoil and muzzle blast make it nearly unrivaled as a training round. People who flinch with larger calibers can focus on fundamentals instead of bracing for punishment.

Plinking remains the .22 LR’s cultural home field. Cheap ammunition and simple rifles or pistols mean families can spend real time on the range instead of counting every trigger press in dollars. Competitive shooters use high‑quality, match‑grade .22 LR in Olympic‑style smallbore events and precision rimfire matches, exploiting its consistent accuracy when paired with tuned rifles and carefully sorted ammunition. In rural America, homesteads have long relied on the .22 LR for pest and varmint control, from garden‑raiding rabbits to barn‑invading rodents, because it solves real problems without excessive noise, recoil, or expense.

Respecting the Cartridge Means Respecting Its Limits

The same traits that make the .22 LR so approachable also define its hard limits, and that is where sober judgment and conservative values align. A cartridge that tops out near 100–150 yards of practical effectiveness and carries relatively low terminal energy simply does not belong on deer, hogs, or larger game if you care about clean, ethical kills. Rimfire priming also cannot quite match centerfire reliability, because ignition depends on a consistent rim strike on a thin, primed edge.

Some argue that the .22 LR can serve for self‑defense because “any gun is better than no gun.” That sentiment may be emotionally understandable, but the ballistics and real‑world performance do not align with serious defensive standards. When lives hang in the balance, common sense favors centerfire cartridges with proven stopping performance and more reliable ignition. Using the .22 LR inside its proper lane—training, plinking, small‑game hunting, and varmint control—honors both the engineering behind it and the responsibility that comes with gun ownership.