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The plane forced its way through layer after layer of freezing rain during the approach into its destination. A sense of dread had accompanied me during the flight, growing stronger as I made my way through the terminal. I resented coming back to the town where I had grown up, after living on the far 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 thoughts was distant, back across an vast expanse of water, when I became aware of something strike the ground. I gazed down to see a pigeon on its back, sprawled, and twitching.

The crash took place just as kids were filing out from the local elementary school and so within moments a small chorus of little ones had assembled, flanked by their mums and dads. This circle of bemused faces looked down at the creature, uncertain what to say or do. The kids were more certain: “Dad, she needs a vet, can we call an emergency service?” I took off my jacket, knelt down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “No problem, love, the gentleman will look after her!” remarked one mother with a audible relief. I had become the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, unintentionally, as I had a few days before.

I made my way home, arms held out, with the bird nestled inside the garment.

Little did I know that my impromptu decision to medivac Belinda (the name I chose for my avian patient) would guide me to a community of city dwellers sacrificing significant amounts of their time to provide not only transport for city pigeons but diagnostic imaging, recovery care, and even “avian physiotherapy”.

I found a shoebox for Belinda, placed inside it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every half hour or so, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those moments of shared perplexity interrupted my frantic search for what to do from there. I called friends for advice and one suggested trying social media, where, to my surprise, I stumbled upon a local pigeon rescue group, and submitted a request to become a member.

A Community Effort

Over 3,000-strong, the group operates on an organic method: someone in Manchester stumbles across an hurt pigeon, a urgent post is created, then a comment section “assessment” takes place. If the bird is considered in need of an examination, someone with a veterinary contact can arrange it; if it needs physio, a “rehabilitator” will volunteer to look after the bird.

Carers each have their own carefully cultivated skills, whether it’s repairing broken wings or dressing wounds. Their significant, collective effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on volunteerism.

Belinda was rapidly diagnosed with brain trauma, likely a blow to the head, and placed with a rehabber who would give comfort and a regimen of gentle physio. We never learned exactly what made her to drop from above. I assumed the role of bird taxi once more, riding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could get the attention she required.

Rediscovering Home

After finding this underground pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much better about being back in my home town. I doubt any of the places I had resided in while away could have anything comparable. 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 observed one plummet from the sky into the schoolyard of my old school. Again, children surrounded the bird, but only one – my best friend at the time – had the nerve to pick it up and take it to security.

The friend in question has since been lost – one of a number of companions to lose their lives in the years before my leaving from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a significant factor of what had made coming back so hard.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “companion” animals, especially in the north of England. Laborers started to raise the birds because they gave them solace and an excuse to gaze up at the heavens between long shifts of underground work. During the hard times, workers on the unemployment also found solace in pigeons, but keeping them was considered a sign of “despair”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often written off as simple, unclean or a pest. Before finding the rehab group, I had contacted a animal doctor, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave it in the car park and we’ll euthanise it.”

The bird? Not this bird. Although improbable to ever fly again , she has adapted to her newly grounded life with success in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each satisfied sound, often prompted by her favourite treat, vegetables, feels like a demonstration in adaptability and resilience – and I am always appreciative to her for unveiling for me another side to the city I was familiar with.