One of the highlights of last year was a bicycle ride from Groningen (Netherlands) to Haraldsted (Denmark), almost 700 km through the old Greater Frisia – my ancestral home. Apart from the endless canals and dykes, one can’t help noticing sheep: you ride through sheep shit, they wander along the dykes, they share your lunch …
And, naturally, you begin speculating about about sheep’s udders – as your mind wanders while your body works hard all day on the bike. The older bosoms sag and hang, while the younger ones, with less years of farmers pulling on them for the precious milk, are fuller and rounder. And I wonder without titillation: does one distinguish between A-cup, B-cup and C-cup for sheep?
20 January, 2011 at 7:29 am
Sheep are animals that are born, and die just like us,and sheep are not vain willingly so they don’t care about cup sizes like we do.I bet a Shepard all alone on the mountain uses the flower of a sheep to mount every once in a while. zoo is a harmless thing. zoo should be legal,and so should clothing optional.