An Event That Transformed Me: A Bird Fell From Above – Guiding Me to a Covert Undercover Salvation Group

The plane forced its way through layer after layer of sleet on its descent into its destination. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the journey, growing stronger as I walked through the arrivals hall. I was unhappy about having to be the city where I had spent my youth, after living on the opposite end of the world for what had felt like a an eternity.

After a couple of days, I ventured out to get a my hair cut. My thoughts was distant, lingering over an vast expanse of water, when I became aware of something strike the pavement. I looked down to see a pigeon on its back, splayed out, and twitching.

The impact took place just as kids were filing out from the local grade school and so within a short time a group of youngsters had gathered, accompanied by their mums and dads. This ring of puzzled faces peered down at the bird, uncertain what to do or say. The kids were more decisive: “Papa, she needs help, can we call an ambulance?” I slipped off my jacket, knelt down and picked up the pigeon inside it. “It’s okay, love, the kind man will look after her!” remarked one mum with a audible relief. I had been transformed into the rescue vehicle for this pigeon that had just fallen suddenly, unintentionally, as I had a few days before.

I trudged home, arms held out, with the bird curled up inside the coat.

Unbeknownst to me that my spontaneous decision to medivac the bird (the name I bestowed upon my avian patient) would direct me to a web of local residents giving up significant amounts of effort to provide not only rescue services for street birds but scans, convalescence, and even “bird rehabilitation”.

I found a shoebox for Belinda, placed inside it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every 20 minutes or so, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to awkwardly lock eyes.

Those periods of common bewilderment punctuated my desperate search for what to do from there. I called friends for guidance and one proposed trying social media, where, to my astonishment, I discovered a local pigeon rescue group, and sent a request to join.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group has an organic system: someone in Manchester discovers an injured pigeon, a urgent post is published, then a comment section “evaluation” ensues. If the bird is judged in need of an X-ray, someone with a connection to a clinic can get it one; if it needs rehabilitation, a “rehabber” will step forward to look after the bird.

Carers each have their own carefully cultivated specialities, whether it’s setting broken wings or cleaning wounds. Their significant, combined effort for the pigeons of the city depends completely on volunteerism.

Belinda was quickly assessed with brain trauma, likely a blow to the head, and assigned to a rehabber who would give comfort and a regimen of gentle physio. We never discovered exactly what caused her to drop from above. I took up the role of bird taxi once more, riding the tram across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could receive the treatment she required.

Rediscovering Home

After finding this underground pigeon “support system”, I began to feel much better about being back in my home town. I question any of the places I had called home while away could boast anything even close. It also struck me that this was not the first time I’d been connected to a pigeon aid mission: almost 20 years earlier I’d observed one drop 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 gall to scoop it up and take it to a safe place.

The friend in question 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 big part of what had made coming back so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “therapy” animals, especially in the North. Workers started to care for the birds because they gave them company and an opportunity to gaze up at the heavens between long shifts of underground work. During the hard times, workers on the dole also found solace in pigeons, but keeping them was viewed as a sign of “social malaise”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often dismissed as stupid, diseased or a annoyance. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a veterinarian, who told me: “if you bring it here, leave it in the lot and we’ll put it down.”

The bird? Not her. Although not expected to ever soar , she has taken to her newly land-based life with aplomb in a volunteer’s home. Each satisfied coo, often caused by her favourite food, frozen peas, feels like a lesson in resilience and strength – and I am eternally thankful to her for unveiling for me a different facet to the city I was familiar with.