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The plane pushed through successive sheets of sleet during the approach into its destination. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the flight, growing stronger as I walked through the airport. I felt bitter over having to be the place where I had spent my youth, after residing on the other side of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a couple of days, I headed out to get a my hair cut. My attention was miles away, focused on an ocean, when I became aware of something smack into the ground. I looked down to see a bird on its back, splayed out, and trembling.

The impact took place just as kids were emerging from the local grade school and so within moments a group of children had assembled, surrounded by their mums and dads. This circle of bemused faces peered down at the creature, not knowing what to think or act. The kids were more definitive: “Papa, she needs help, can we call an ambulance?” I removed my jacket, crouched down and scooped the pigeon up into it. “Don’t worry, dear, the kind man will help her!” said one mother with a sigh 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 few days before.

I trudged home, arms stiffly extended, with the bird curled up inside the jacket.

I had no idea that my impromptu decision to rescue my feathered charge (the name I gave my avian patient) would direct me to a community of Mancunians devoting significant amounts of effort to provide not only ambulances for street birds but scans, respite care, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I retrieved a cardboard box for Belinda, placed inside it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d open the box just long enough for us to awkwardly lock eyes.

Those instances of mutual perplexity marked my desperate search for what to do next. I called friends for guidance and one suggested trying Facebook, where, to my amazement, I stumbled upon a local pigeon rescue group, and sent a request to participate.

An Anarchic Model

Over 3,000-strong, the group follows an anarchic system: someone in Manchester stumbles across an injured pigeon, a heartfelt post is made, then a comment section “assessment” ensues. If the bird is considered in need of an examination, someone with a connection to a clinic can arrange it; if it needs therapy, a “rehabilitator” will step forward to look after the bird.

Carers each have their own finely honed specialities, whether it’s setting broken wings or treating wounds. Their momentous, collective effort for the pigeons of the city is powered solely by goodwill.

Belinda was quickly assessed with a neurological issue, likely a concussion, and assigned to a rehabber who would administer medication and a regimen of patient physio. We never found out exactly what made her to fall from the sky. I resumed the role of bird taxi once more, boarding the light rail across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could obtain the treatment she needed.

An Unexpected Lesson

After stumbling across this underground pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much better about being back in my hometown. I am skeptical any of the places I had lived in while away could claim anything remotely similar. It also struck 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 playground of my old school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my closest friend at the time – had the gall to rescue it and take it to a safe place.

The aforementioned friend has since passed away – one of a number of companions to pass away in the years before my departure from Manchester. I realised that this had been a major reason of what had made returning home so difficult.

Feathered Support

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “therapy” animals, especially in the certain regions. Laborers started to keep the birds because they gave them comfort and an reason to gaze up at the sky between long shifts of darkness below. During the economic downturn, workers on the dole also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was considered a sign of “despair”.

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

That? Not our Belinda. Although unlikely to ever take to the skies , she has embraced her newly earthbound life with grace in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each contented coo, often elicited by her favourite food, vegetables, feels like a example in adaptability and fortitude – and I am always appreciative to her for revealing to me a different facet to the city I was familiar with.