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Our aircraft pushed through successive sheets of sleet during the approach into Manchester. A growing unease had accompanied me during the flight, only deepening as I shuffled through the terminal. I was unhappy about returning to the city where I had been raised, after making a home on the opposite end of the world for what had felt like a lifetime.

After a short while, I went out to get a haircut. My attention was miles away, lingering over an sea, when I was startled by something strike the ground. I looked down to see a rock dove on its back, sprawled, and trembling.

The crash occurred just as schoolchildren were filing out from the local primary school and so within moments a small chorus of youngsters had formed, flanked by their mums and dads. This group of confused faces looked down at the pigeon, unsure what to say or do. The kids were more certain: “Papa, she needs hospital, can we call an ambulance?” I took off my coat, bent down and scooped the pigeon up into it. “No problem, love, the nice man will help her!” said one mum with a sigh of relief. I had become the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, unintentionally, as I had a couple of days prior.

I trudged home, arms ramrod straight, with the bird tucked safely inside the coat.

Unbeknownst to me that my spontaneous decision to rescue the bird (the name I chose for my avian patient) would lead me to a community of local residents giving up significant amounts of effort to provide not only rescue services for street birds but X-rays, convalescence, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I retrieved a shoebox for Belinda, lined it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every short while, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those instances of shared confusion punctuated my desperate search for what to do next. I contacted friends for advice and one proposed trying Facebook, where, to my surprise, I found a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and submitted a request to participate.

A Community Effort

With a large membership, the group operates on an organic method: someone in Manchester finds an ailing pigeon, a urgent post is made, then a comment section “assessment” takes place. If the bird is considered in need of an X-ray, someone with a vet link can arrange it; if it needs rehabilitation, a “rehabilitator” will offer to care for the bird.

Carers each have their own finely honed skills, whether it’s mending broken wings or treating wounds. Their momentous, cooperative effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on volunteerism.

Belinda was quickly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a head injury, and placed with a rehabber who would give comfort and a program of gentle physio. We never learned exactly what made her to drop from above. I assumed the role of pigeon ambulance once more, boarding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could get the attention she needed.

A New Perspective

After stumbling across this underground pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my home town. I doubt any of the places I had called home while away could have anything even close. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been connected to a pigeon recovery: almost 20 years earlier I’d observed one drop from the sky into the grounds of my high 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 been lost – one of several friends to die in the years before my exit from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a big part of what had made returning home so painful.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “therapy” animals, especially in the North. Workers started to care for the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to look up at the sky between long shifts of underground work. During the economic downturn, workers on the dole also found solace in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “despair”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often disparaged as simple, unclean or a general nuisance. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring that here, leave it in the parking lot and we’ll euthanise it.”

It? Not her. Although not expected to ever soar , she has adapted to her newly land-based life with aplomb in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each contented coo, often caused by her favourite snack, vegetables, feels like a demonstration in resilience and strength – and I am eternally thankful to her for unveiling for me a different facet to the city I thought I knew.