An Event That Changed My Life: A Dove Fell From Above – Directing Me to a Secret Undercover Salvation Group

The plane pushed through wall after wall of sleet during the approach into the city. A sinking feeling had accompanied me during the trip, only deepening as I walked through the airport. I was unhappy about coming back to the place where I had grown up, after residing on the other side of the world for what had felt like a an age.

After a couple of days, I went out to get a trim. My mind was far away, focused on an sea, when I heard something hit the ground. I looked down to see a pigeon on its side, spatchcocked, and convulsing.

The crash happened just as kids were filing out from the local elementary school and so within a short time a little crowd of little ones had formed, accompanied by their mothers and fathers. This ring of puzzled faces stared down at the creature, unsure what to say or do. The kids were more definitive: “Papa, she needs hospital, can we call an emergency service?” I removed my anorak, crouched down and picked up the pigeon into it. “It’s okay, sweet, the gentleman will help her!” said one mum with a sense of relief. I had become the emergency transport for this pigeon that had just come down hard, against its will, as I had a short time earlier.

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

I had no idea that my on-the-spot decision to rescue the bird (the name I chose for my avian patient) would guide me to a community of city dwellers devoting significant amounts of effort to provide not only ambulances for street birds but X-rays, convalescence, and even “pigeon physio”.

I located a small container for Belinda, prepared it with an old piece of cloth, and put her inside. Every half hour or so, I’d lift the lid just long enough for us to make brief contact.

Those instances of shared perplexity punctuated my frantic search for what to do from there. I phoned friends for suggestions and one suggested trying Facebook, where, to my surprise, I found a Manchester Pigeon Rehab group, and put in a request to become a member.

A Grassroots Network

Over 3,000-strong, the group operates on an organic model: someone in Manchester discovers an hurt pigeon, a urgent post is made, then a comment section “assessment” ensues. If the bird is considered in need of an scan, someone with a veterinary contact can organize it; if it needs rehabilitation, a “carer” will offer to look after the bird.

Rehabbers each have their own carefully cultivated expertise, whether it’s repairing broken wings or dressing wounds. Their significant, combined effort for the pigeons of the city runs entirely on kindness.

Belinda was rapidly diagnosed with neurological problems, likely a blow to the head, and placed with a rehabber who would administer medication and a program of careful physio. We never discovered exactly what made her to plummet. I assumed the role of avian courier once more, taking the tram across the city with Belinda in a box on my lap so she could get the treatment she deserved.

A New Perspective

After discovering this secret pigeon “NHS”, 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 remotely similar. It also occurred to 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 playground of my secondary school. Again, children gathered around the bird, but only one – my closest friend at the time – had the courage to rescue it and take it to security.

The individual has since passed away – one of a number of companions to pass away in the years before my leaving from Manchester. I realised that this had been a significant factor of what had made coming back so difficult.

Pigeons as Companions

Pigeons have a tradition as “emotional support” animals, especially in the north of England. Workers started to raise the birds because they gave them solace and an excuse to stare at the open air 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 “idleness”.

Nowadays, pigeons are often dismissed as simple, dirty or a general nuisance. Before finding the rehab group, I had called a animal doctor, who told me: “if you bring that here, leave it in the lot and we’ll euthanise it.”

It? Not her. Although improbable to ever take to the skies , she has embraced her newly earthbound life with grace in a volunteer’s extra room. Each satisfied call, often elicited by her favourite treat, frozen peas, feels like a example in resilience and strength – and I am eternally thankful to her for revealing to me a new dimension to the city I thought I knew.