Riding back from Northallerton, I saw a small leaf blowing in the road and thought, "Those autumn leaves, they always look like little animals running in the road".
It was a little animal running in the road.
I stopped, and watched. It was a tiny vole. It zigzagged around the road. There was a car coming.
Little Voley stopped under the instep of my left foot for a moment, and when the car had gone, ran into the verge.
I was reminded of the rabbit at the end of Peter Abelard, thrusting its head trustingly into his hand just before it died.