An Event That Altered My Life: A Bird Plummeted From Above – Directing Me to a Covert Undercover Salvation Group

Our aircraft battled through successive sheets of sleet on its descent into Manchester. A growing unease settled over me during the journey, growing stronger as I made my way through the terminal. I felt bitter over having to be the city where I had been raised, after residing on the opposite end of the world for what had felt like a lifetime.

After a few days, I went out to get a trim. My mind was far away, lingering over an sea, when I became aware of something hit the ground. I looked down to see a pigeon on its side, splayed out, and twitching.

The impact took place just as children were filing out from the local grade school and so within moments a small chorus of children had formed, accompanied by their parents. This ring of puzzled faces stared down at the creature, unsure what to think or act. The kids were more certain: “Daddy, she needs hospital, can we call an ambulance?” I removed my anorak, crouched down and scooped the pigeon into it. “It’s okay, love, the nice man will take care of her!” remarked one mother with a sense of relief. I had turned into the rescue vehicle for this pigeon that had just landed abruptly, involuntarily, as I had a short time earlier.

I walked slowly home, arms ramrod straight, with the bird tucked safely inside the coat.

I had no idea that my on-the-spot decision to rescue Belinda (the name I gave my avian patient) would guide me to a web of Mancunians giving up significant amounts of time to provide not only transport for feral pigeons but diagnostic imaging, convalescence, and even “pigeon physio”.

I located a shoebox for Belinda, placed inside it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every short while, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those moments of shared bewilderment interrupted my frantic search for what to do next. I contacted friends for advice and one suggested trying online groups, where, to my surprise, I discovered a bird rehabilitation group, and submitted a request to participate.

A Grassroots Network

With a large membership, the group has an anarchic system: someone in Manchester finds an ailing pigeon, a heartfelt post is created, then a comment section “evaluation” takes place. If the bird is considered in need of an scan, someone with a veterinary contact can organize it; if it needs physio, a “rehabber” will volunteer to look after the bird.

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

Belinda was rapidly assessed with neurological problems, likely a concussion, and assigned to a rehabber who would administer comfort and a regimen of careful physio. We never discovered exactly what caused her to fall from the sky. I took up the role of avian courier once more, riding the light rail across the city with Belinda in a shoebox on my lap so she could obtain the treatment she deserved.

A New Perspective

After stumbling across this underground pigeon “NHS”, I began to feel much more positive about being back in my city. I doubt any of the places I had called home while away could boast anything remotely similar. 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 seen one drop from the sky into the grounds of my old school. Again, children circled the bird, but only one – my best friend at the time – had the courage to scoop it up and take it to safety.

The aforementioned friend has since passed away – one of four friends to pass away in the years before my departure from Manchester. I realised that this had been a significant factor of what had made the return so painful.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a history as “therapy” animals, especially in the certain regions. Miners started to keep the birds because they gave them solace and an reason to gaze up at the open air between long shifts of subterranean gloom. During the economic downturn, workers on the assistance also found solace in pigeons, but keeping them was seen as a sign of “despair”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often written off as unintelligent, diseased or a pest. Before finding the rehab group, I had spoken to a animal doctor, who told me: “if you bring the bird here, leave that in the lot and we’ll euthanise it.”

It? Not this bird. Although improbable to ever soar , she has taken to her newly earthbound life with success in a volunteer’s extra room. Each happy coo, often prompted by her favourite food, vegetables, feels like a example in resilience and resilience – and I am forever grateful to her for unveiling for me another side to the city I thought I knew.