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The plane forced its way through wall after wall of icy precipitation during the approach into its destination. A sense of dread settled over me during the journey, growing stronger as I made my way through the airport. I was unhappy about having to be the town where I had grown up, after making a home on the other side of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a couple of days, I headed out to get a trim. My attention was distant, focused on an sea, when I heard something strike the ground. I looked down to see a rock dove on its wings, spatchcocked, and convulsing.

The fall happened just as schoolchildren were emerging from the local primary school and so within moments a little crowd of youngsters had assembled, flanked by their mothers and fathers. This group of puzzled faces stared down at the pigeon, not knowing what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Dad, she needs hospital, can we call an emergency service?” I took off my jacket, bent down and picked up the pigeon up into it. “Don’t worry, dear, the nice man will take care of her!” remarked one mother with a sense of relief. I had turned into the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just come down hard, involuntarily, as I had a couple of days prior.

I trudged home, arms held out, with the bird tucked safely inside the garment.

I had no idea that my impromptu decision to medivac the bird (the name I bestowed upon my avian patient) would lead me to a community of local residents sacrificing significant amounts of their 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 T-shirt, and put her inside. Every short while, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to awkwardly lock eyes.

Those instances of shared bewilderment marked my frantic search for what to do from there. I called friends for guidance and one recommended trying social media, where, to my surprise, I found a local pigeon rescue group, and put in a request to participate.

A Community Effort

With a large membership, the group operates on an anarchic method: someone in Manchester discovers an ailing pigeon, a heartfelt post is made, then a comment section “evaluation” takes place. If the bird is deemed in need of an scan, someone with a vet link can get it one; if it needs rehabilitation, a “carer” will offer to look after the bird.

Carers each have their own highly developed skills, whether it’s setting broken wings or treating wounds. Their momentous, cooperative effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on kindness.

Belinda was promptly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a blow to the head, and matched with a rehabber who would provide pain relief and a course of gentle physio. We never learned exactly what made her to drop from above. I took up 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 attention she required.

A New Perspective

After discovering this secret pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my city. I question any of the places I had resided in while away could boast anything even close. It also struck me that this was not the first time I’d been involved in a pigeon recovery: almost 20 years earlier I’d witnessed one plummet from the sky into the grounds of my old school. Again, children surrounded the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the courage to scoop it up and take it to security.

The aforementioned friend has since passed away – one of several friends to lose their lives in the years before my leaving from Manchester. I realised that this had been a major reason of what had made coming back so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “companion” animals, especially in the North. Laborers started to care for the birds because they gave them comfort and an opportunity to gaze up at the heavens between long shifts of darkness below. During the Depression, workers on the dole also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “despair”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often written off as simple, unclean or a general nuisance. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave it in the car park and we’ll put it down.”

The bird? Not this bird. Although unlikely to ever take to the skies , she has taken to her newly grounded life with aplomb in a volunteer’s home. Each contented coo, often elicited by her favourite treat, peas, feels like a lesson in perseverance and resilience – and I am always appreciative to her for unveiling for me a different facet to the city I believed I understood.