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T pushed through wall after wall of icy precipitation on its descent into its destination. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the journey, intensifying as I walked through the terminal. I felt bitter over returning to the city where I had spent my youth, after living on the far side of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a few days, I ventured out to get a trim. My thoughts was distant, back across an vast expanse of water, when I heard something hit the ground. I gazed down to see a bird on its back, spatchcocked, and trembling.

The impact took place just as schoolchildren were filing out from the local grade school and so within a short time a small chorus of youngsters had gathered, flanked by their mothers and fathers. This group of confused faces stared down at the bird, not knowing what to think or act. The kids were more definitive: “Dad, she needs hospital, can we call an ambulance?” I slipped off my coat, crouched down and gently lifted the pigeon into it. “No problem, love, the kind man will look after her!” exclaimed one mother with a sense of relief. I had become the ambulance for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, against its will, as I had a few days before.

I made my way home, arms ramrod straight, with the bird tucked safely inside the jacket.

I had no idea that my on-the-spot decision to medivac the bird (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 ambulances for street birds but X-rays, respite care, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I retrieved a small container for Belinda, placed inside 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 instances of shared bewilderment punctuated my hectic search for what to do after that. I phoned friends for advice and one proposed trying Facebook, where, to my amazement, I stumbled upon a local pigeon rescue group, and submitted a request to become a member.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group operates on an decentralized method: someone in Manchester discovers an ailing pigeon, a pleading post is created, then a comment section “assessment” follows. If the bird is deemed in need of an X-ray, someone with a vet link can get it one; if it needs rehabilitation, a “rehabber” will volunteer to foster the bird.

Volunteers each have their own carefully cultivated specialities, whether it’s setting broken wings or treating wounds. Their significant, cooperative effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on volunteerism.

Belinda was promptly assessed with a neurological issue, likely a concussion, and placed with a rehabber who would administer comfort and a course of patient physio. We never learned exactly what caused her to fall from the sky. I resumed the role of avian courier once more, boarding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could obtain the treatment she required.

A New Perspective

After discovering this hidden pigeon “health service”, I began to feel much differently about being back in my city. I question any of the places I had called home while away could claim anything comparable. It also struck me that this was not the first time I’d been part of a pigeon recovery: almost 20 years earlier I’d witnessed one fall from the sky into the schoolyard of my secondary school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my best friend at the time – had the courage to rescue it and take it to safety.

The aforementioned friend has since been lost – one of several friends to pass away in the years before my exit from Manchester. I understood that this had been a major reason of what had made coming back so difficult.

Feathered Support

Pigeons have a tradition as “emotional support” animals, especially in the certain regions. Workers started to raise the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to gaze up at the open air between long shifts of underground work. During the economic downturn, workers on the unemployment also found solace in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “social malaise”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often dismissed as stupid, dirty or a general nuisance. Before finding the rehab group, I had called a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring it here, leave it in the car park and we’ll end its life.”

The bird? Not our Belinda. Although not expected to ever soar , she has adapted to her newly land-based life with aplomb in a volunteer’s home. Each contented coo, often prompted by her favourite snack, peas, feels like a lesson in adaptability and fortitude – and I am eternally thankful to her for unveiling for me a new dimension to the city I believed I understood.