On Dragons

The dragon has suffered terribly from literature. A very large reptile capable of flight, speech, long memory, and combustion would be remarkable enough without insisting that every specimen must also possess the strategic genius of a general, the philosophical depth of a sage, and the financial instincts of a banker.

Dragons are intelligent, and some are exceptionally intelligent. Others are, by every available measure, fools. The confusion likely arises because even a foolish dragon has had several centuries in which to learn things, and longevity is frequently mistaken for wisdom by those who have not spent sufficient time around elderly academics.

One juvenile specimen studied in the western preserves demonstrated problem-solving ability approximately equivalent to that of an educated twelve-year-old Human child, though with vastly superior spatial memory. Another, estimated to be nearly four centuries old, repeatedly attempted to attack its own reflection in a polished observatory dome. The curator insisted the animal was “defending its territorial sovereignty.” I recorded “struck roof fourteen times.”