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Our aircraft battled through successive sheets of sleet during the approach into Manchester. A sense of dread had accompanied me during the flight, intensifying as I shuffled through the arrivals hall. I resented coming back to the place where I had been raised, after residing on the far side of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a couple of days, I went out to get a my hair cut. My mind was far away, back across an vast expanse of water, when I was startled by something strike the pavement. I glanced down to see a pigeon on its back, splayed out, and trembling.

The crash occurred just as children were streaming out from the local grade school and so within moments a little crowd of youngsters had gathered, surrounded by their mums and dads. This circle of confused faces looked down at the bird, uncertain what to think or act. The kids were more decisive: “Daddy, she needs hospital, can we call an emergency service?” I took off my jacket, crouched down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “No problem, love, the kind man will help her!” exclaimed one parent with a audible relief. I had turned into the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, unintentionally, as I had a couple of days prior.

I walked slowly home, arms stiffly extended, with the bird tucked safely inside the jacket.

Little did I know that my on-the-spot decision to medivac the bird (the name I bestowed upon my new friend) would lead me to a network of Mancunians devoting significant amounts of their time to provide not only rescue services for feral pigeons but diagnostic imaging, recovery care, and even “pigeon physio”.

I found a cardboard box 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 share a momentary glance.

Those instances of mutual perplexity interrupted my hectic search for what to do from there. I contacted friends for suggestions and one recommended trying social media, where, to my amazement, I discovered a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and put in a request to become a member.

An Anarchic Model

Over 3,000-strong, the group operates on an organic system: someone in Manchester finds an ailing pigeon, a pleading post is published, then a comment section “assessment” takes place. If the bird is deemed in need of an examination, someone with a veterinary contact can organize it; if it needs therapy, a “carer” will step forward to care for the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own highly developed skills, whether it’s repairing broken wings or dressing wounds. Their momentous, combined effort for the pigeons of the city is powered solely by goodwill.

Belinda was rapidly assessed with neurological problems, likely a head injury, and matched with a rehabber who would give medication and a program of patient physio. We never found out exactly what caused her to fall from the sky. I assumed the role of bird taxi once more, riding the tram across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could receive the attention she required.

Rediscovering Home

After stumbling across this hidden pigeon “health service”, I began to feel much better about being back in my home town. I question any of the places I had lived in while away could have anything even close. 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 seen one fall from the sky into the schoolyard of my secondary school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the courage to pick it up and take it to security.

The individual has since been lost – one of a number of companions to lose their lives in the years before my exit from Manchester. I realised that this had been a big part of what had made returning home so hard.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “therapy” animals, especially in the north of England. Laborers started to keep the birds because they gave them comfort and an reason to gaze up at the open air between long shifts of darkness below. During the hard times, workers on the dole also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was considered a sign of “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often dismissed as simple, dirty or a pest. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a vet, who told me: “if you bring it here, leave it in the parking lot and we’ll euthanise it.”

It? Not our Belinda. Although unlikely to ever fly again , she has embraced her newly earthbound life with aplomb in a volunteer’s extra room. Each happy coo, often caused by her favourite snack, peas, feels like a lesson in resilience and strength – and I am always appreciative to her for showing me another side to the city I thought I knew.