Storm Chandra swept through Bridport, Dorset, bringing torrential rain that caused the River Brit to overflow its banks. The downpour continued through the night, saturating already waterlogged ground, and by dawn the river had transformed the floodplain into a broad, brown torrent winding towards West Bay harbour.
The floodwaters carved new lakes where herring gulls floated on the muddy surge, and water surged through allotments, sending plastic pots bobbing against fences. The town took on an eerie stillness, with paths becoming streams and new islands appearing, as if in a snow day where normal routines were suspended.
As the storm's tail end passed in the afternoon, strong winds returned, bringing an early dusk and hail. Ravens chased and tumbled against grey clouds, their black shapes erased by sweeping rain like a child's magnetic drawing board.
By the next day, the floods had receded. Where gulls had paddled, crows now picked over flattened grass for dead worms. The sky cleared to a pale, bright blue, and a buzzard glided in stately circles, scanning for carrion. Birdsong returned as drier conditions prevailed: a green woodpecker's yaffling echoed from the woods, a dunnock began its creaky warble, and an overwintering blackcap offered a hesitant mumble.
The day belonged to house sparrows, which gathered in small flocks, cheeping and chirruping as they flitted among twigs. These birds, accustomed to human company, allowed close observation while watching back intently.
