A Brief History of Dragons

 

     “Today’s lesson in animal lore is about the much-maligned dragon,” Grandfather told us. My sister and I sat attentively in front of him in the library. “Dragons themselves are not imaginary,” he insisted, “but dragon history is embedded in myth.” We loved his stories—and the mischievous glint in his eyes at the telling.

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     In medieval tales from Europe, he explained, “the dragon breathed fire and stalked maidens who had to be rescued by gallant knights.” He shook his head. “But in oriental legends, they were kindly serpents and benevolent protectors who were never incendiary!”

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     “The truth is,” he went on, “it was only the male dragon who breathed fire, and the female was the benevolent sex!” His eyes glinted. “And it’s the male that made them extinct.”

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     “But how would male dragons make them all extinct?” we wanted to know.

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     “It was an unfortunate problem during courtship,” he explained. “In the intense heat of passion, the overzealous male suffered from a fatal condition.” He paused until we asked what kind of condition.

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     “Premature incineration!” he exclaimed. “They died off rather quickly, these impetuous fellows.” Then he added, rather proudly, “The females were only slightly scorched around the edges, and so they survived.”

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     It turns out, he went on, there were significant variations in fire-breathing. “Some males only smoldered, but never fully ignited,” he laughed. “These were the ones who kept dragonkind alive over the millennia.”

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     “Then why aren’t there dragons today?” I asked.

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     “Well,” Grandfather hesitated, “it’s the fault of the females.” He seemed uncertain that we should be told. “They were very guarded in avoiding the more aggressive and overheated males and insisted on protecting their daughters.” He sighed somewhat woefully. “So, they taught their little dragonettes the virtues of a life of chastity.”

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     “What happened to them?” we wanted to know.

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     “Eventually, most joined reptilian convents staffed by unicorns, and in their piety, they sacrificed all worldly pleasures for the gratifications of the spirit.”

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     “Did all of them join?” I asked.

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     “Well,” Grandfather smiled wistfully, “A few of them became dragonflies.”

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Ron Wetherington