🔗 Share this article

Our aircraft pushed through wall after wall of sleet on its descent into the city. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the trip, only deepening as I made my way through the airport. I felt bitter over having to be the town where I had spent my youth, after making a home on the far side of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a few days, I ventured out to get a my hair cut. My attention was distant, back across an ocean, when I was startled by something hit the ground. I gazed down to see a pigeon on its back, sprawled, and trembling.

The fall happened just as schoolchildren were emerging from the local grade school and so within a short time a little crowd of youngsters had assembled, surrounded by their mothers and fathers. This ring of bemused faces looked down at the creature, uncertain what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Papa, she needs a vet, can we call an animal ambulance?” I took off my jacket, crouched down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “Don’t worry, sweet, the kind man will look after her!” remarked one mum with a audible 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 trudged home, arms held out, with the bird curled up inside the coat.

I had no idea that my on-the-spot decision to aid Belinda (the name I bestowed upon my new friend) would guide me to a web of local residents giving up significant amounts of time to provide not only ambulances for city pigeons but X-rays, convalescence, and even “avian physiotherapy”.

I found a small container for Belinda, placed inside it with an old T-shirt, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to awkwardly lock eyes.

Those moments of shared confusion marked my frantic search for what to do after that. I called friends for suggestions and one proposed trying Facebook, where, to my surprise, I stumbled upon a local pigeon rescue group, and submitted a request to become a member.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group has an anarchic system: someone in Manchester finds an injured pigeon, a heartfelt post is made, then a comment section “evaluation” follows. If the bird is judged in need of an examination, someone with a connection to a clinic can get it one; if it needs physio, a “carer” will offer to foster the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own highly developed skills, whether it’s repairing broken wings or dressing wounds. Their tremendous, combined effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on goodwill.

Belinda was rapidly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a concussion, and matched with a rehabber who would administer comfort and a program of patient physio. We never learned exactly what caused her to drop from above. I assumed the role of avian courier once more, taking the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could get the attention she needed.

An Unexpected Lesson

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 claim anything comparable. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been involved in a pigeon recovery: almost 20 years earlier I’d seen one drop from the sky into the playground of my secondary school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my closest friend at the time – had the nerve to rescue it and take it to a safe place.

The individual has since passed away – one of several friends 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 the return so hard.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “emotional support” animals, especially in the north of England. Workers started to care for the birds because they gave them comfort and an opportunity to look up at the open air between long shifts of darkness below. During the hard times, workers on the dole also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “idleness”.

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

It? Not our Belinda. Although not expected to ever fly again , she has embraced her newly land-based life with success in a volunteer’s home. Each happy sound, often caused by her favourite snack, frozen peas, feels like a example in adaptability and fortitude – and I am forever grateful to her for showing me another side to the city I believed I understood.