Last Train to Clarkdale?

As the railcar rumbles into the depot, the daily wayfreight clatters over the girder bridge above. In the small town of Bad Aston beyond, a few cars are about but no people are visible; maybe they are camera shy.
At long last, the track-work is near complete but there is a whole heap of scenic-ing and building work still ahead. Magic!
We know for sure that our little lodgers have now flown. At least some have. When I took the box down to check and clean it, there were three sad little blue tit corpses and one teeny-tiny unhatched egg.
Not a great day here for birds - found a dead thrush on the grass this afternoon. I suspect it had been bushwhacked by a sparrowhawk which had been chased off by a socking great gull which was duly shooed away by the author (me!)