17.7.2017, CUMBRIA: Dead grey squirrel on the brow of the hill this morning. A thick oil paint blood puddled around its little head. Eyes wide open. Body intact. I move it to the hedgerow. The body is cold. At least it’s not a red. But it probably lived in the canopy of trees, which looked so ethereal this morning, cast against the sunlight. He must have bought it in the night. A driver would not have seen him but heard the bump. People drive too fast.