A long time ago someone convinced my great uncle to start raising Katahdin sheep on his farm to help clear brush and to butcher for meat. The problem with this scenario is that he became a pacifist after serving in ww2, swearing he’d never use a firearm ever again.

His original game plan was to just kill them with a hammer… Who could have guessed that wouldn’t pan out? Long story short, the family farm now has herds of basically feral sheep running around as they please. It’s bad enough that if you’re driving around the property you have to honk your horn when going around blind corners so you don’t run them over.

Uncle Dick was a simple man, hated the church, hated the US government, hated his wife, loved his sheep. RIP.

Damn, you can see that the sheep intuitively picked up a lot of speed out of that initial jump to go for a proper headbutt, only to then slow it all the way down for a gentle boop.