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Our aircraft forced its way through successive sheets of icy precipitation during the approach into its destination. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the journey, growing stronger as I made my way through the airport. I resented returning to the city where I had been raised, after making a home on the far side of the world for what had felt like a lifetime.

After a short while, I headed out to get a haircut. My thoughts was far away, back across an ocean, when I became aware of something strike the ground. I gazed down to see a rock dove on its side, sprawled, and twitching.

The fall took place just as children were emerging from the local primary school and so within a short time a group of youngsters had gathered, surrounded by their parents. This circle of puzzled faces looked down at the creature, not knowing what to do or say. The kids were more certain: “Daddy, she needs a vet, can we call an animal ambulance?” I removed my jacket, crouched down and scooped the pigeon inside it. “It’s okay, love, the nice man will take care of her!” said one parent with a sigh of relief. I had been transformed into the ambulance for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, involuntarily, as I had a few days before.

I walked slowly home, arms ramrod straight, with the bird tucked safely inside the garment.

I had no idea that my spontaneous decision to medivac Belinda (the name I chose for my avian patient) would lead me to a web of city dwellers sacrificing significant amounts of time to provide not only ambulances for feral pigeons but scans, convalescence, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I located a small container for Belinda, placed inside it with an old shirt, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to share a momentary glance.

Those periods of common bewilderment marked my desperate search for what to do after that. I phoned friends for guidance and one suggested trying online groups, where, to my astonishment, I discovered a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and sent a request to participate.

A Community Effort

Boasting thousands of members, the group operates on an organic model: someone in Manchester discovers an hurt pigeon, a heartfelt post is created, then a comment section “evaluation” ensues. If the bird is judged in need of an scan, someone with a vet link can organize it; if it needs therapy, a “rehabilitator” will step forward to foster the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own highly developed expertise, whether it’s mending broken wings or dressing wounds. Their tremendous, combined effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on volunteerism.

Belinda was rapidly diagnosed with neurological problems, likely a blow to the head, and matched with a rehabber who would give comfort and a program of gentle physio. We never learned exactly what made her to fall from the sky. I assumed the role of avian courier once more, taking the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could receive the treatment she deserved.

An Unexpected Lesson

After discovering this underground pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much differently about being back in my hometown. I am skeptical any of the places I had resided in while away could boast anything remotely similar. It also dawned on me that this was not the first time I’d been connected to a pigeon rescue: almost 20 years earlier I’d witnessed one fall from the sky into the grounds of my old school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my best friend at the time – had the nerve to pick it up and take it to security.

The aforementioned friend has since passed away – one of several friends to pass away in the years before my leaving from Manchester. I realised that this had been a major reason of what had made the return so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “emotional support” animals, especially in the certain regions. Laborers started to keep the birds because they gave them comfort and an excuse to stare at the open air between long shifts of darkness below. During the Depression, workers on the assistance also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was considered a sign of “idleness”.

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

That? Not her. Although improbable to ever soar , she has adapted to her newly grounded life with success in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each contented sound, often caused by her favourite treat, peas, feels like a example in resilience and fortitude – and I am always appreciative to her for showing me another side to the city I believed I understood.