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The plane pushed through wall after wall of icy precipitation during the approach into the city. A growing unease had accompanied me during the trip, growing stronger as I shuffled through the terminal. I resented having to be the place where I had grown up, after making a home on the other side of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a short while, I ventured out to get a trim. My mind was far away, lingering over an vast expanse of water, when I became aware of something hit the ground. I gazed down to see a bird on its side, splayed out, and trembling.

The impact happened just as children were streaming out from the local primary school and so within minutes a small chorus of little ones had gathered, accompanied by their mothers and fathers. This ring of confused faces looked down at the creature, not knowing what to do or say. The kids were more definitive: “Papa, she needs help, can we call an emergency service?” I took off my jacket, bent down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “No problem, love, the gentleman will look after her!” exclaimed one mother with a sigh of relief. I had become the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just come down hard, unintentionally, as I had a couple of days prior.

I walked slowly home, arms stiffly extended, with the bird nestled inside the coat.

Little did I know that my on-the-spot decision to rescue the bird (the name I gave my patient) would guide me to a web of city dwellers devoting significant amounts of their time to provide not only rescue services for city pigeons but X-rays, recovery care, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

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

Those instances of mutual perplexity marked my hectic search for what to do next. I contacted friends for advice and one proposed trying social media, where, to my astonishment, I discovered a local pigeon rescue group, and submitted a request to participate.

A Community Effort

Over 3,000-strong, the group operates on an anarchic method: someone in Manchester finds an injured pigeon, a urgent post is published, then a comment section “triage” takes place. If the bird is deemed in need of an examination, someone with a vet link can organize it; if it needs physio, a “rehabber” will step forward to foster the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own highly developed specialities, whether it’s mending broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their tremendous, collective effort for the pigeons of the city is powered solely by kindness.

Belinda was promptly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a head injury, and placed with a rehabber who would give comfort and a course of gentle physio. We never discovered exactly what made her to drop from above. I resumed the role of avian courier once more, taking the tram across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could obtain the care she deserved.

Rediscovering Home

After stumbling across this secret pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my city. I am skeptical any of the places I had resided in while away could have anything comparable. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been involved in a pigeon aid mission: almost 20 years earlier I’d seen one drop from the sky into the schoolyard of my old school. Again, children surrounded the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the gall to pick it up and take it to security.

The individual has since passed away – one of a number of companions to lose their lives in the years before my exit from Manchester. I understood that this had been a big part of what had made returning home so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “companion” animals, especially in the certain regions. Miners started to keep the birds because they gave them comfort and an excuse to look up at the heavens between long shifts of underground work. During the economic downturn, workers on the unemployment also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “idleness”.

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

It? Not our Belinda. Although unlikely to ever take to the skies , she has adapted to her newly land-based life with success in a volunteer’s extra room. Each satisfied coo, often caused by her favourite treat, vegetables, feels like a lesson in adaptability and resilience – and I am forever grateful to her for unveiling for me a new dimension to the city I thought I knew.