🔗 Share this article

T pushed through successive sheets of sleet on its descent into the city. A growing unease filled me during the flight, growing stronger as I shuffled through the airport. I felt bitter over coming back to the place where I had grown up, after residing on the far side of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a couple of days, I ventured out to get a trim. My thoughts was distant, back across an vast expanse of water, when I was startled by something smack into the pavement. I looked down to see a pigeon on its wings, spatchcocked, and twitching.

The crash happened just as kids were filing out from the local elementary school and so within a short time a small chorus of youngsters had gathered, flanked by their parents. This group of bemused faces stared down at the pigeon, not knowing what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Dad, she needs help, can we call an animal ambulance?” I took off my jacket, knelt down and picked up the pigeon into it. “No problem, sweet, the kind man will help her!” exclaimed one mother with a sense of relief. I had become the ambulance for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, against its will, as I had a short time earlier.

I made my way home, arms stiffly extended, with the bird tucked safely inside the coat.

I had no idea that my impromptu decision to medivac the bird (the name I chose for my patient) would direct me to a network of Mancunians devoting significant amounts of time to provide not only transport for street birds but X-rays, convalescence, and even “avian physiotherapy”.

I retrieved a small container for Belinda, placed inside it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those moments of shared perplexity punctuated my frantic search for what to do from there. I called friends for advice and one recommended trying social media, where, to my astonishment, I found a local pigeon rescue group, and sent a request to become a member.

An Anarchic Model

With a large membership, the group operates on an decentralized system: someone in Manchester discovers an hurt pigeon, a pleading post is created, then a comment section “evaluation” takes place. If the bird is deemed in need of an examination, someone with a vet link can arrange it; if it needs physio, a “carer” will offer to look after the bird.

Carers each have their own finely honed specialities, whether it’s mending broken wings or treating wounds. Their tremendous, collective effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on goodwill.

Belinda was rapidly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a head injury, and placed with a rehabber who would provide comfort and a program of gentle physio. We never discovered exactly what made her to fall from the sky. I took up the role of bird taxi once more, taking the tram across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could get the attention she needed.

Rediscovering Home

After stumbling across this secret pigeon “health service”, 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 boast anything remotely similar. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been part of a pigeon recovery: almost 20 years earlier I’d witnessed one plummet from the sky into the grounds of my secondary school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the courage to scoop it up and take it to a safe place.

The friend in question has since been lost – one of a number of companions to pass away in the years before my exit from Manchester. I realised that this had been a big part of what had made returning home so hard.

Feathered Support

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “therapy” animals, especially in the North. Miners started to keep the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to stare at the sky between long shifts of darkness below. During the hard times, workers on the dole also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often written off as stupid, diseased or a annoyance. Before finding the rehab group, I had contacted a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave that in the car park and we’ll put it down.”

It? Not this bird. Although improbable to ever take to the skies , she has taken to her newly earthbound life with aplomb in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each contented coo, often prompted by her favourite snack, vegetables, feels like a example in perseverance and fortitude – and I am eternally thankful to her for showing me a new dimension to the city I was familiar with.