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T forced its way through layer after layer of icy precipitation as it landed into its destination. A growing unease settled over me during the flight, growing stronger as I made my way through the arrivals hall. I resented coming back to the town where I had been raised, after living on the opposite end of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a short while, I went out to get a my hair cut. My attention was far away, lingering over an sea, when I became aware of something strike the pavement. I gazed down to see a bird on its side, sprawled, and twitching.

The impact took place just as children were emerging from the local elementary school and so within minutes a small chorus of little ones had formed, flanked by their parents. This group of puzzled faces stared down at the pigeon, uncertain what to say or do. The kids were more decisive: “Dad, she needs a vet, can we call an ambulance?” I slipped off my anorak, bent down and scooped the pigeon up into it. “No problem, dear, the kind man will help her!” said one mother with a sigh of relief. I had become the ambulance for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, against its will, as I had a few days before.

I made my way home, arms held out, with the bird tucked safely inside the garment.

Little did I know that my on-the-spot decision to aid the bird (the name I gave my new friend) would lead me to a community of local residents sacrificing significant amounts of time to provide not only rescue services for city pigeons but X-rays, respite care, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I found a small container for Belinda, placed inside it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every half hour or so, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to share a momentary glance.

Those moments of mutual confusion interrupted my desperate search for what to do after that. I phoned friends for suggestions and one suggested trying online groups, where, to my surprise, I discovered a local pigeon rescue group, and sent a request to participate.

A Community Effort

Boasting thousands of members, the group operates on an decentralized method: someone in Manchester stumbles across an injured pigeon, a urgent post is made, then a comment section “evaluation” follows. If the bird is judged in need of an scan, someone with a vet link can arrange it; if it needs physio, a “rehabber” will offer to look after the bird.

Volunteers each have their own finely honed skills, whether it’s setting broken wings or treating wounds. Their significant, collective effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on kindness.

Belinda was quickly assessed with brain trauma, likely a blow to the head, and placed with a rehabber who would provide comfort and a course of patient physio. We never discovered exactly what caused her to drop from above. I took up the role of bird taxi once more, taking the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could receive the attention she needed.

A New Perspective

After stumbling across this secret pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my home town. I am skeptical any of the places I had resided in while away could claim anything remotely similar. It also occurred to me that this was not the first time I’d been part of a pigeon rescue: almost 20 years earlier I’d seen one plummet from the sky into the grounds of my old school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the courage to pick it up and take it to safety.

The individual has since passed away – one of a number of companions to die in the years before my exit from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a major reason of what had made the return so difficult.

Feathered Support

Pigeons have a history as “companion” animals, especially in the North. Laborers started to care for the birds because they gave them company and an excuse to gaze up at the heavens between long shifts of darkness below. During the economic downturn, workers on the dole also found solace in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “social malaise”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often dismissed as unintelligent, unclean or a pest. Before finding the rehab group, I had contacted a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring that here, leave that in the parking lot and we’ll end its life.”

It? Not our Belinda. Although not expected to ever take to the skies , she has taken to her newly earthbound life with aplomb in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each happy sound, often caused by her favourite treat, peas, feels like a lesson in perseverance and resilience – and I am eternally thankful to her for revealing to me a new dimension to the city I was familiar with.