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T pushed through successive sheets of freezing rain on its descent into its destination. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the journey, only deepening as I walked through the airport. I resented coming back to the city where I had been raised, after making a home on the other side of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a short while, I headed out to get a my hair cut. My thoughts was miles away, lingering over an ocean, when I became aware of something smack into the sidewalk. I glanced down to see a bird on its wings, splayed out, and convulsing.

The crash occurred just as children were emerging from the local primary school and so within minutes a little crowd of youngsters had assembled, accompanied by their mums and dads. This circle of bemused faces peered down at the pigeon, not knowing what to say or do. The kids were more certain: “Dad, she needs a vet, can we call an animal ambulance?” I removed my jacket, crouched down and gently lifted the pigeon inside it. “Don’t worry, sweet, the gentleman will take care of her!” exclaimed one parent 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 short time earlier.

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

Little did I know that my impromptu decision to aid the bird (the name I chose for my patient) would direct me to a web of Mancunians sacrificing significant amounts of their time to provide not only ambulances for street birds but X-rays, respite 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 short while, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to share a momentary glance.

Those instances of common perplexity punctuated my frantic search for what to do next. I contacted friends for suggestions and one suggested trying online groups, where, to my surprise, I discovered a bird rehabilitation group, and put in a request to become a member.

A Community Effort

Boasting thousands of members, the group has an organic system: someone in Manchester discovers an hurt pigeon, a urgent post is created, then a comment section “evaluation” ensues. If the bird is considered in need of an scan, someone with a veterinary contact can arrange it; if it needs physio, a “rehabber” will offer to foster the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own carefully cultivated expertise, whether it’s repairing broken wings or dressing wounds. Their significant, combined effort for the pigeons of the city is powered solely by volunteerism.

Belinda was quickly assessed with brain trauma, likely a concussion, and assigned to a rehabber who would give pain relief and a program of gentle physio. We never discovered exactly what made her to fall from the sky. I assumed the role of pigeon ambulance once more, riding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could receive the treatment she required.

Rediscovering Home

After discovering this secret pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my home town. I doubt any of the places I had called home while away could boast anything comparable. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been connected to a pigeon recovery: almost 20 years earlier I’d witnessed one fall from the sky into the playground of my secondary school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the nerve to pick it up and take it to a safe place.

The friend in question has since been lost – one of several friends 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 painful.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “companion” animals, especially in the certain regions. Workers started to keep the birds because they gave them company and an reason to gaze up at the open air between long shifts of underground work. During the hard times, workers on the assistance also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “social malaise”.

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.”

It? Not her. Although not expected to ever take to the skies , she has adapted to her newly grounded life with aplomb in a volunteer’s extra room. Each happy coo, often caused by her favourite snack, vegetables, feels like a example in perseverance and resilience – and I am forever grateful to her for unveiling for me another side to the city I was familiar with.