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T pushed through successive sheets of freezing rain during the approach into Manchester. A sinking feeling filled me during the journey, only deepening as I shuffled through the arrivals hall. I felt bitter over coming back to the town where I had grown up, after living on the other side of the world for what had felt like a lifetime.

After a short while, I went out to get a my hair cut. My mind was miles away, back across an sea, when I was startled by something strike the sidewalk. I looked down to see a bird on its back, spatchcocked, and twitching.

The impact took place just as kids were filing out from the local elementary school and so within a short time a group of youngsters had gathered, accompanied by their mothers and fathers. This group of puzzled faces stared down at the pigeon, uncertain what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Dad, she needs a vet, can we call an ambulance?” I removed my anorak, bent down and gently lifted the pigeon into it. “It’s okay, dear, the nice man will help her!” said one mum with a audible relief. I had been transformed into the rescue vehicle for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, against its will, as I had a short time earlier.

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

Little did I know that my on-the-spot decision to aid the bird (the name I chose for my new friend) would guide me to a network of city dwellers devoting significant amounts of effort to provide not only ambulances for city pigeons but diagnostic imaging, recovery care, and even “pigeon physio”.

I retrieved a small container for Belinda, prepared it with an old T-shirt, and put her inside. Every short while, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those periods of shared perplexity interrupted my desperate search for what to do from there. I called friends for advice and one proposed trying social media, where, to my surprise, I stumbled upon a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and put in a request to participate.

An Anarchic Model

With a large membership, the group operates on an anarchic model: someone in Manchester discovers an injured pigeon, a pleading post is published, then a comment section “triage” follows. If the bird is considered in need of an X-ray, someone with a veterinary contact can organize it; if it needs rehabilitation, a “rehabilitator” will volunteer to foster the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own carefully cultivated specialities, whether it’s repairing broken wings or treating wounds. Their momentous, combined effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on kindness.

Belinda was rapidly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a blow to the head, and assigned to a rehabber who would give comfort and a regimen of careful physio. We never discovered exactly what caused her to fall from the sky. I assumed the role of pigeon ambulance once more, riding the tram across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could obtain the attention she deserved.

Rediscovering Home

After finding this underground pigeon “health service”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my home town. I question any of the places I had resided in while away could claim anything even close. It also occurred to me that this was not the first time I’d been part of a pigeon aid mission: almost 20 years earlier I’d observed one drop from the sky into the playground of my secondary school. Again, children surrounded the bird, but only one – my closest friend at the time – had the gall to scoop it up and take it to safety.

The aforementioned friend has since been lost – one of a number of companions to lose their lives in the years before my departure from Manchester. I realised that this had been a significant factor of what had made coming back so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “companion” animals, especially in the North. Laborers started to keep the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to stare at the open air between long shifts of subterranean gloom. During the economic downturn, workers on the dole also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “social malaise”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often disparaged as stupid, diseased or a annoyance. Before finding the rehab group, I had called a animal doctor, who told me: “if you bring that here, leave that in the parking lot and we’ll euthanise it.”

The bird? Not her. Although improbable to ever fly again , she has adapted to her newly grounded life with grace in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each satisfied call, often prompted by her favourite snack, vegetables, feels like a demonstration in perseverance and fortitude – and I am eternally thankful to her for showing me a different facet to the city I was familiar with.