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T forced its way through wall after wall of freezing rain during the approach into the city. A sense of dread had accompanied me during the flight, intensifying as I made my way through the terminal. I felt bitter over returning to the town where I had grown up, after living on the far side of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a couple of days, I went out to get a haircut. My thoughts was far away, focused on an vast expanse of water, when I was startled by something hit the ground. I glanced down to see a bird on its side, splayed out, and twitching.

The impact took place just as children were filing out from the local elementary school and so within minutes a little crowd of youngsters had gathered, surrounded by their mothers and fathers. This ring of bemused faces peered down at the creature, uncertain what to say or do. The kids were more certain: “Dad, she needs a vet, can we call an emergency service?” I took off my coat, crouched down and gently lifted the pigeon inside it. “Don’t worry, sweet, the nice man will help her!” exclaimed one mum with a sigh of relief. I had become the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just landed abruptly, involuntarily, as I had a few days before.

I made my way home, arms stiffly extended, with the bird curled up inside the coat.

Unbeknownst to me that my on-the-spot decision to aid the bird (the name I gave my patient) would lead me to a network of Mancunians devoting significant amounts of time to provide not only transport for city pigeons but scans, respite care, and even “avian physiotherapy”.

I found a cardboard box for Belinda, lined it with an old T-shirt, and put her inside. Every short while, I’d open the box just long enough for us to share a momentary glance.

Those periods of mutual confusion interrupted my hectic search for what to do from there. I contacted friends for suggestions and one suggested trying online groups, where, to my surprise, I stumbled upon a local pigeon rescue group, and put in a request to participate.

A Grassroots Network

Boasting thousands of members, the group has an anarchic method: someone in Manchester finds an injured pigeon, a urgent post is published, then a comment section “assessment” ensues. If the bird is judged in need of an examination, someone with a vet link can arrange it; if it needs therapy, a “rehabilitator” will offer to look after the bird.

Volunteers each have their own carefully cultivated skills, whether it’s mending broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their momentous, combined effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on kindness.

Belinda was promptly diagnosed with a neurological issue, likely a head injury, and matched with a rehabber who would give pain relief and a program of careful physio. We never learned exactly what caused her to fall from the sky. I assumed the role of avian courier once more, taking the tram across the city with Belinda in a container on my lap so she could receive the care she needed.

An Unexpected Lesson

After discovering this hidden pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much better about being back in my city. I question any of the places I had lived in while away could have anything remotely similar. 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 witnessed one drop from the sky into the playground of my old school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my closest friend at the time – had the nerve to scoop it up and take it to security.

The aforementioned friend has since died – one of four friends to lose their lives in the years before my departure from Manchester. I came to see that this had been a major reason of what had made the return so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “therapy” animals, especially in the North. Miners started to raise the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to gaze up at the heavens between long shifts of underground work. During the economic downturn, workers on the dole also found a distraction in pigeons, but keeping them was considered a sign of “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often disparaged as stupid, unclean or a annoyance. Before finding the rehab group, I had contacted a vet, who told me: “if you bring that here, leave it in the lot and we’ll euthanise it.”

It? Not her. Although unlikely to ever fly again , she has taken to her newly land-based life with success in a volunteer’s spare bedroom. Each contented sound, often elicited by her favourite food, vegetables, feels like a example in adaptability and fortitude – and I am always appreciative to her for unveiling for me a different facet to the city I thought I knew.