🔗 Share this article

T battled through wall after wall of icy precipitation on its descent into its destination. A sense of dread filled me during the trip, intensifying as I shuffled through the airport. I felt bitter over coming back to the place where I had spent my youth, 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 went out to get a my hair cut. My mind was far away, focused on an sea, when I became aware of something smack into the sidewalk. I glanced down to see a bird on its side, spatchcocked, and trembling.

The fall took place just as kids were filing out from the local grade school and so within minutes a group of children had assembled, surrounded by their parents. This group of bemused faces stared down at the pigeon, uncertain what to do or say. The kids were more certain: “Papa, she needs hospital, can we call an animal ambulance?” I took off my anorak, knelt down and scooped the pigeon into it. “Don’t worry, sweet, the kind man will help her!” exclaimed one mother with a sense of relief. I had been transformed into the rescue vehicle for this pigeon that had just come down hard, against its will, as I had a short time earlier.

I made my way home, arms held out, with the bird curled up inside the coat.

Little did I know that my spontaneous decision to rescue my feathered charge (the name I gave my avian patient) would guide 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 “pigeon physio”.

I located a shoebox for Belinda, lined it with an old shirt, and put her inside. Every short while, I’d peek inside just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those instances of mutual perplexity marked my hectic search for what to do from there. I phoned friends for suggestions and one suggested trying Facebook, where, to my amazement, I stumbled upon a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and sent a request to participate.

An Anarchic Model

With a large membership, the group operates on an decentralized system: someone in Manchester discovers an ailing pigeon, a pleading post is made, then a comment section “triage” follows. If the bird is deemed in need of an X-ray, someone with a veterinary contact can arrange it; if it needs rehabilitation, a “carer” will step forward to care for the bird.

Carers each have their own finely honed specialities, whether it’s repairing broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their tremendous, combined effort for the pigeons of the city is powered solely by goodwill.

Belinda was quickly assessed with neurological problems, likely a blow to the head, and placed 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 pigeon ambulance once more, taking the light rail across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could receive the treatment she deserved.

An Unexpected Lesson

After finding this secret pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much differently about being back in my city. I am skeptical 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 rescue: almost 20 years earlier I’d observed one plummet from the sky into the grounds of my high school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my friend at the time – had the nerve to scoop it up and take it to a safe place.

The aforementioned friend has since died – one of a number of companions to pass away in the years before my leaving from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a big part of what had made the return so painful.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a longstanding role as “therapy” animals, especially in the North. Workers started to care for the birds because they gave them company and an excuse to stare at the sky between long shifts of underground work. During the economic downturn, workers on the assistance also found comfort in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “social malaise”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often written off as stupid, diseased or a annoyance. Before finding the rehab group, I had called a animal doctor, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave it in the car park and we’ll end its life.”

The bird? Not this bird. Although not expected to ever take to the skies , she has adapted to her newly earthbound life with grace in a volunteer’s home. Each happy coo, often caused by her favourite treat, frozen peas, feels like a lesson in resilience and strength – and I am forever grateful to her for showing me another side to the city I thought I knew.