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Our aircraft forced its way through wall after wall of sleet as it landed into the city. A sense of dread had accompanied me during the journey, intensifying as I walked through the airport. I felt bitter over returning to the town where I had grown up, after residing 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 trim. My mind was far away, back across an sea, when I was startled by something strike the pavement. I looked down to see a pigeon on its side, sprawled, and trembling.

The impact took place just as children were streaming out from the local primary school and so within a short time a group of children had formed, flanked by their parents. This circle of bemused faces stared down at the pigeon, uncertain what to think or act. The kids were more definitive: “Dad, she needs a vet, can we call an emergency service?” I slipped off my coat, knelt down and scooped the pigeon inside it. “It’s okay, dear, the kind man will look after her!” said one mum with a sigh of relief. I had become the rescue vehicle for this pigeon that had just landed abruptly, unintentionally, as I had a short time earlier.

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

Little did I know that my spontaneous decision to aid Belinda (the name I gave my avian patient) would direct me to a web of Mancunians giving up significant amounts of effort to provide not only transport for city pigeons but diagnostic imaging, recovery care, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I retrieved a small container for Belinda, lined it with an old T-shirt, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to awkwardly lock eyes.

Those moments of common perplexity interrupted my frantic search for what to do after that. I contacted friends for suggestions and one suggested trying social media, where, to my astonishment, I found a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and put in a request to become a member.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group operates on an decentralized model: 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 connection to a clinic can organize it; if it needs therapy, a “rehabber” will step forward to look after the bird.

Carers each have their own highly developed skills, whether it’s repairing broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their tremendous, cooperative effort for the pigeons of the city is powered solely by volunteerism.

Belinda was promptly assessed with brain trauma, likely a concussion, and placed with a rehabber who would give pain relief and a regimen of gentle physio. We never learned exactly what caused her to drop from above. I resumed the role of avian courier once more, taking the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could receive the attention she required.

A New Perspective

After stumbling across this secret pigeon “health service”, I began to feel much differently about being back in my hometown. I question any of the places I had resided in while away could have anything remotely similar. It also struck me that this was not the first time I’d been involved in a pigeon rescue: almost 20 years earlier I’d observed one plummet from the sky into the playground of my secondary school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the nerve to rescue it and take it to safety.

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

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “therapy” animals, especially in the certain regions. Miners started to keep the birds because they gave them comfort and an excuse to gaze up at the open air between long shifts of underground work. During the hard times, workers on the unemployment also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “despair”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often disparaged as stupid, dirty or a annoyance. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a vet, who told me: “if you bring it here, leave it in the parking lot and we’ll put it down.”

It? Not our Belinda. Although unlikely to ever take to the skies , she has taken to her newly land-based life with aplomb in a volunteer’s extra room. Each satisfied sound, often caused by her favourite treat, vegetables, feels like a demonstration in resilience and resilience – and I am always appreciative to her for showing me a different facet to the city I thought I knew.