In my junior year of college I was still an animal science — pre-vet major so I was taking a required class called Farm Management because in Vermont you need to know how to farm, yo. In this class we all had to take a shift at the farm caring for the large animals. There was a cow rotation, a horse rotation, and a sheep rotation. We were not given an option of which animals we cared for, just a schedule planned out by our professor who also happened to be my advisor. My first rotation was the sheep. I showed up for my very first shift at 6:00am one September morning when the farm was in full swing inside, but not so much outside. I went down the hill to the sheep field and closed myself inside the fence to care for the 100 happy-go-lucky ewes … and the one ram.

The ram did not care for my arrival. He charged at me.

Luckily we had been taught in class to treat the ram like a bull and dodge him (and to show him absolutely no fear so he wouldn’t charge us in the first place, but I can’t help that he could smell my fear). I twirled to the ram’s right side, spinning so that I would be facing the same direction as he was, took my dominant left hand (thank you, Mom, for making me left handed), and grabbed that ram’s horn with all my strength. He shook his head as hard as he could to make me let go then started to try to kick at me with his front right foot. I nudged his side and didn’t let go of the horn then kicked him back and yelled in my most aggressive voice, “NO!” I tried dragging him to the gate opening so that I could get out of the fenced area by myself but I needed both hands to undo the latch keeping the gate closed and as soon as I let go of the ram’s horn he would try to charge me again. He got a few headbutts in before I gave up on this idea, grabbed his horn, and dropped the whole acting unscared thing, then started screaming “HEEEEEEEELP!” as louldly as I could.

There was no one around outside to hear me. Cows were cared for inside, far from the sheep field, and no one had arrived yet to care for the horses. I was completely alone with 100 ewes ready to be mounted and one very pissed off ram who didn’t want any competition for his ladies.

Ten minutes in I saw the TA for our class smoking a cigarette at the top of the hill. She heard me screaming. She looked down the hill at me. She turned away and kept smoking her cigarette. She finished her cigarette. She sauntered down. She asked me what was wrong. I pointed at the ram. She didn’t understand. I told her to open the gate and help me out of there. As soon as she opened the gate the ram charged at the gate so hard that he broke free from my hand. I ended up outside the gate and Miss “I Value a Good Morning Smoke More Than Helping Someone Who Might Be Dying” ended up inside the fenced area trying to dodge the ram.

[Insert nasty tirade that includes the words 'cuntiferous bitch got what she deserved' here.]

I dropped the class the next day. I hated rams from that day forward. Until Wednesday when I saw this commercial…

…and loudly giggled my tiny little head off. YAR. The ram is now good with me. Next time he should just ask for my gum, though.