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The plane pushed through layer after layer of sleet as it landed into its destination. A sense of dread had accompanied me during the flight, intensifying as I shuffled through the terminal. I was unhappy about having to be the town where I had spent my youth, after living on the opposite end of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a short while, I ventured out to get a my hair cut. My attention was miles away, lingering over an sea, when I was startled by something hit the pavement. I glanced down to see a rock dove on its wings, sprawled, and trembling.

The fall occurred just as schoolchildren were filing out from the local primary school and so within a short time a group of little ones had gathered, accompanied by their parents. This circle of puzzled faces looked down at the creature, not knowing what to do or say. The kids were more decisive: “Dad, she needs hospital, can we call an ambulance?” I removed my coat, crouched down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “No problem, sweet, the gentleman will help her!” said one parent with a sigh of relief. I had been transformed into the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, involuntarily, as I had a couple of days prior.

I trudged home, arms ramrod straight, with the bird nestled inside the coat.

I had no idea that my spontaneous decision to medivac the bird (the name I gave my new friend) would lead me to a web of city dwellers sacrificing significant amounts of time to provide not only rescue services for street birds but scans, convalescence, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I retrieved a cardboard box for Belinda, lined it with an old T-shirt, and put her inside. Every half hour or so, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to share a momentary glance.

Those periods of mutual perplexity punctuated my frantic search for what to do after that. I called friends for advice and one proposed trying online groups, where, to my surprise, I discovered a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and put in a request to join.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group follows an anarchic system: someone in Manchester finds an ailing pigeon, a pleading post is made, then a comment section “triage” takes place. If the bird is judged in need of an X-ray, someone with a veterinary contact can arrange it; if it needs rehabilitation, a “rehabilitator” will step forward to look after the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own finely honed specialities, whether it’s mending broken wings or dressing wounds. Their tremendous, cooperative effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on volunteerism.

Belinda was quickly assessed with brain trauma, likely a concussion, and assigned to a rehabber who would provide medication and a course of gentle physio. We never learned exactly what caused her to fall from the sky. I resumed the role of pigeon ambulance once more, taking the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could receive the attention she required.

Rediscovering Home

After discovering this hidden pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much better about being back in my home town. I doubt 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 involved in a pigeon aid mission: almost 20 years earlier I’d seen one drop from the sky into the schoolyard of my high school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my closest friend at the time – had the nerve to scoop it up and take it to a safe place.

The aforementioned friend has since passed away – one of a number of companions to lose their lives in the years before my departure from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a big part of what had made the return so painful.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “companion” animals, especially in the north of England. Workers started to care for the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to stare at the sky between long shifts of subterranean gloom. During the Depression, workers on the unemployment also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often disparaged as unintelligent, diseased or a general nuisance. Before finding the rehab group, I had contacted a animal doctor, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave that in the lot and we’ll put it down.”

The bird? Not this bird. Although not expected to ever take to the skies , she has adapted to her newly grounded life with grace in a volunteer’s home. Each happy coo, often elicited by her favourite snack, vegetables, feels like a demonstration in resilience and strength – and I am forever grateful to her for showing me a different facet to the city I was familiar with.