It is hard for someone accustomed to the green fields and flat stadiums of most of Galar to grasp just what kind of terror a Wooloo rolling downhill can be. For generations, they preserved tiny Turffield's independence from Galar's kings in a manner analogous to Donphan in Ransei, rolled like boulders at attacking armies or fired out of cannons.
So feared were Wooloo as projectiles that settlements in the Turffield region abandoned human soldiers and support pokemon entirely, and settled land disputes by rolling Wooloo downhill at one another and marking the spot where they met as the boundary. In theory, this would mark the bottom of every valley as a border; in practice, strong bowlers and aggressive shearing of Wooloo often shifted borders by a few precious yards.
Some have seen the Turffield Festival as an echo of this ancient custom, but the connection is not nearly so clear-cut; after all, humans around the world have taken to using round pokemon for sports. But it is certainly true that people and pokemon split up into teams, stand on two hills, and try to push their Wooloo to the other, and that, just like in the wars of the Early Wooloo age, the will of the Wooloo plays a greater role than even the top players in deciding the outcome.
Today, Turffield is better known for the occult associations of its geoglyphs than its Wooloo, and the local custom of human women braiding their hair after their defenders and primary agricultural export, outside the region, has become associated with the mysterious and the supernatural. In this guise, Wooloo braids have spread as far as Alola, where they were worn by a trainer tormented by both her mother and by strange aliens as an act of silent protest.