I felt very, very sad when I discovered a dead robin in the undergrowth. There was, however, a certain beauty in its stillness and I was moved to take a post mortem photograph. Later, I remembered the old English folk song: "Who killed Cock Robin?" "I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin." "Who saw him die?" "I," said the Fly, "With my little eye, I saw him die." "Who caught his blood?" "I," said the Fish, "With my little dish, I caught his blood." "Who'll make the…