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The plane forced its way through layer after layer of sleet as it landed into Manchester. A sense of dread had accompanied me during the journey, growing stronger as I made my way through the airport. I was unhappy about having to be the city where I had grown up, after residing on the other side of the world for what had felt like a lifetime.

After a couple of days, I headed out to get a haircut. My mind was distant, lingering over an sea, when I heard something hit the ground. I glanced down to see a bird on its back, splayed out, and trembling.

The fall happened just as schoolchildren were streaming out from the local grade school and so within a short time a small chorus of youngsters had gathered, flanked by their mums and dads. This circle of bemused faces looked down at the creature, not knowing what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Papa, she needs help, can we call an animal ambulance?” I slipped off my jacket, knelt down and scooped the pigeon into it. “No problem, dear, the nice man will look after her!” exclaimed one parent with a sigh of relief. I had become the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, against its will, as I had a couple of days prior.

I walked slowly home, arms stiffly extended, with the bird curled up inside the jacket.

Unbeknownst to me that my spontaneous decision to aid the bird (the name I chose for my patient) would guide me to a web of local residents giving up significant amounts of time to provide not only ambulances for city pigeons but scans, convalescence, and even “avian physiotherapy”.

I retrieved a small container for Belinda, lined it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those moments of common perplexity interrupted my hectic search for what to do from there. I called friends for guidance and one proposed trying online groups, where, to my surprise, I stumbled upon a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and submitted a request to participate.

An Anarchic Model

With a large membership, the group has an anarchic system: someone in Manchester finds an ailing pigeon, a urgent post is created, then a comment section “assessment” ensues. If the bird is considered in need of an examination, someone with a connection to a clinic can arrange it; if it needs therapy, a “carer” will step forward to care for the bird.

Volunteers each have their own carefully cultivated expertise, whether it’s mending broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their significant, collective effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on volunteerism.

Belinda was promptly assessed with a neurological issue, likely a concussion, and matched with a rehabber who would administer comfort and a course of patient physio. We never found out exactly what caused her to plummet. I resumed the role of pigeon ambulance once more, riding the streetcar across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could receive the care she needed.

Rediscovering Home

After discovering this secret pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much differently about being back in my hometown. I question any of the places I had resided in while away could claim anything comparable. It also occurred to me that this was not the first time I’d been involved in a pigeon aid mission: almost 20 years earlier I’d observed one plummet from the sky into the schoolyard of my secondary school. Again, children surrounded the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the courage to pick it up and take it to safety.

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

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “emotional support” animals, especially in the North. Workers started to raise the birds because they gave them comfort and an reason to gaze up at the sky between long shifts of underground work. During the hard times, workers on the unemployment also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “idleness”.

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

It? Not this bird. Although not expected to ever fly again , she has embraced her newly grounded life with grace in a volunteer’s extra room. Each contented coo, often prompted by her favourite treat, frozen peas, feels like a example in perseverance and strength – and I am always appreciative to her for showing me another side to the city I believed I understood.