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The plane forced its way through successive sheets of sleet on its descent into Manchester. A sense of dread settled over me during the flight, intensifying as I made my way through the airport. I felt bitter over having to be the town where I had grown up, after residing on the far side of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a few days, I headed out to get a trim. My thoughts was far away, lingering over an vast expanse of water, when I was startled by something strike the pavement. I looked down to see a bird on its back, spatchcocked, and trembling.

The fall took place just as schoolchildren were emerging from the local primary school and so within minutes a group of children had assembled, flanked by their mums and dads. This circle of confused faces stared down at the pigeon, uncertain what to say or do. The kids were more certain: “Dad, she needs hospital, can we call an emergency service?” I removed my jacket, crouched down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “No problem, love, the nice man will help her!” said one mum with a sense of relief. I had turned into the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just come down hard, against its will, as I had a couple of days prior.

I walked slowly home, arms ramrod straight, with the bird curled up inside the jacket.

I had no idea that my impromptu decision to aid the bird (the name I bestowed upon my patient) would lead me to a network of city dwellers devoting significant amounts of effort to provide not only ambulances for feral pigeons but X-rays, respite care, and even “avian physiotherapy”.

I found a small container for Belinda, lined it with an old shirt, and put her inside. Every half hour or so, I’d open the box just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those moments of mutual bewilderment interrupted my desperate search for what to do from there. I contacted friends for advice and one suggested trying social media, where, to my surprise, I found a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and submitted a request to participate.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group operates on an decentralized method: someone in Manchester stumbles across an hurt pigeon, a heartfelt post is published, then a comment section “assessment” follows. If the bird is considered in need of an scan, someone with a veterinary contact can get it one; if it needs rehabilitation, a “carer” will volunteer to look after the bird.

Volunteers each have their own highly developed specialities, whether it’s setting broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their significant, collective effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on volunteerism.

Belinda was promptly assessed with a neurological issue, likely a head injury, and assigned to a rehabber who would give pain relief and a program of careful physio. We never found out exactly what caused her to drop from above. I assumed the role of pigeon ambulance once more, riding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could receive the care she required.

An Unexpected Lesson

After stumbling across this secret pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much better about being back in my hometown. I question any of the places I had resided in while away could boast anything comparable. It also occurred to me that this was not the first time I’d been involved in a pigeon rescue: almost 20 years earlier I’d seen one plummet from the sky into the grounds of my secondary school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my best friend at the time – had the courage to pick it up and take it to safety.

The individual has since died – one of several friends to die in the years before my departure from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a significant factor of what had made returning home so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “therapy” animals, especially in the north of England. Miners started to keep the birds because they gave them company and an excuse to stare at the heavens between long shifts of darkness below. During the economic downturn, workers on the assistance also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often dismissed as unintelligent, diseased or a general nuisance. Before finding the rehab group, I had contacted a vet, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave it in the car park and we’ll euthanise it.”

It? Not our Belinda. Although improbable to ever fly again , she has taken to her newly land-based life with grace in a volunteer’s home. Each happy call, often prompted by her favourite food, frozen peas, feels like a lesson in adaptability and fortitude – and I am forever grateful to her for showing me a different facet to the city I thought I knew.