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The plane forced its way through wall after wall of freezing rain on its descent into its destination. A sense of dread settled over me during the journey, only deepening as I made my way through the airport. I was unhappy about returning to the town where I had been raised, after making a home on the opposite end of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a couple of days, I ventured out to get a trim. My thoughts was miles away, focused on an vast expanse of water, when I was startled by something strike the sidewalk. I looked down to see a pigeon on its side, splayed out, and convulsing.

The fall took place just as children were emerging from the local primary school and so within minutes a group of youngsters had gathered, accompanied by their mothers and fathers. This group of bemused faces looked down at the pigeon, not knowing what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Papa, she needs hospital, can we call an animal ambulance?” I removed my coat, knelt down and scooped the pigeon up into it. “It’s okay, sweet, the nice man will look after her!” said one mum with a sigh of relief. I had become 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 ramrod straight, with the bird nestled inside the coat.

Little did I know that my impromptu decision to rescue my feathered charge (the name I chose for my avian patient) would guide me to a community of local residents sacrificing significant amounts of time to provide not only rescue services for feral pigeons but scans, recovery care, and even “pigeon physio”.

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

Those moments of shared perplexity interrupted my hectic search for what to do from there. I contacted friends for advice and one suggested trying Facebook, where, to my astonishment, I stumbled upon a bird rehabilitation group, and submitted a request to join.

An Anarchic Model

With a large membership, the group has an anarchic system: someone in Manchester stumbles across an injured pigeon, a urgent post is published, then a comment section “triage” follows. If the bird is considered in need of an scan, someone with a vet link can organize it; if it needs rehabilitation, a “rehabber” will step forward to care for the bird.

Carers each have their own finely honed skills, whether it’s repairing broken wings or dressing wounds. Their momentous, collective effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on kindness.

Belinda was rapidly assessed with neurological problems, likely a blow to the head, and placed with a rehabber who would give pain relief and a course of careful physio. We never discovered exactly what caused her to drop from above. I took up the role of avian courier once more, riding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could get the treatment she required.

An Unexpected Lesson

After finding this secret pigeon “health service”, 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 have anything comparable. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been part of a pigeon aid mission: almost 20 years earlier I’d seen one drop from the sky into the schoolyard of my secondary school. Again, children surrounded the bird, but only one – my best friend at the time – had the nerve to pick it up and take it to security.

The individual has since been lost – one of several friends to die in the years before my departure from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a big part of what had made returning home so painful.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “companion” animals, especially in the North. Laborers started to care for the birds because they gave them solace and an excuse to stare at the sky between long shifts of darkness below. During the Depression, workers on the dole also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often written off as simple, unclean or a pest. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring it here, leave that in the parking lot and we’ll put it down.”

It? Not our Belinda. Although unlikely to ever fly again , she has embraced her newly earthbound life with grace in a volunteer’s extra room. Each happy call, often prompted by her favourite treat, peas, feels like a example in resilience and resilience – and I am eternally thankful to her for unveiling for me another side to the city I was familiar with.