Harry Rammer Jammer

My name is Harry and this was my time to be the top ram. I had been keeping an eye on the old ram and this year I was ready to take him. We were moved into a field together and as soon as I saw my chance, I was going to take it. The field is at the back of a house where new people moved in a few months ago. While they were moving their stuff in I barely raised my head from the grass because I was on a mission to get strong over the winter. When tupping season came around again I would be prepared. I ate everything in sight and filled out nicely, ready for the challenge.
For the first few days in the field we tended to avoid each other but I knew he was sussing me out quietly the same way I was sussing him. His fleece was much longer but more ragged than mine and his weary old head displayed plenty of signs of previous battles. We moved around in ever decreasing circles and the closer we got, the clearer it became that he still retained the desire for the battle in his eyes. I returned the look and the circling continued.
A storm blew up overnight and we were prematurely brought into close contact by the only shelter available near the short wall. We both knew it was on as soon as daylight and a break in the wind arrived. I spent the rest of that night going through my plan of attack, which was to attack.
He had the same plan, so in the first of the dawn salvoes we met in the middle ground with a satisfying thunk. I delivered more force than I received and grew stronger for it. I sensed the change in the way the old ram looked on me and I went in for the second time. He met me less than half-way and I had the upper hand. We hit again and again and I was comfortable with anything he threw at me. I had him and both of us knew it. It was time to finish the game.
I put my head down into my chest and prepared for the final launch. He did the same but I could tell his heart was not in it. I was just about to go when an extremely loud clacking noise came from the house beside me. The woman who had moved in there recently was banging on the window with some kind of canister and shouting something from behind the glass. The old fella had not been distracted, however, and he crashed his double thick skull into the exposed side of my head. It knocked me sideways and nearly knocked me over. I managed to regain my composure but I was not fully back in my defensive stance when he hit me again. I absorbed this shot better than the first one and by the next clash even managed to meet him nearly half-way again.
I was back in the game when the woman came out of the house gesticulating wildly with her arms and shouting. What was she doing? The old fella blindsided me again with a shot that was too strong to take. My legs crumpled and I knew I was beaten. I had to bow down and accede to his superiority.
In that encounter the hierarchy for the season was established and I was out of the loop again for another year thanks to that woman. In twelve months, I will be older and fatter and wiser and hopefully she will be too.

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