The Phoenix

There has only ever been one Phoenix, and the reason for this is obvious when you consider how it reproduces. It lays an egg, builds a pyre, incinerates itself, and hatches out of its own egg. It's the only bird that does this, and although all the other birds wonder why, none have had the nerve to ask it.

You can of course read all about the Phoenix on Wikipedia, but I wanted to research this properly. After all, an early chronicler, Herodotus, is still nick-named 'the Father of Lies' on account of his inaccurate reporting. And I don't think he was even quoting Wikipedia.



As I live beside the Phoenix Park I thought I'd just wander round it a bit, keep a sharp eye out for gold-and-purple birds. I've come to the conclusion that the name is a trifle misleading, and I am in the process of writing a letter to our new President to suggest the addition of a disclaimer; the park will, if President Higgins agrees, be called 'Phoenix Park - Does not contain any actual Phoenix'.

As November sets in, the park itself is as stunningly beautiful as ever. It makes up for the dark evenings to see the view from the old barracks, across the War Memorial Garden with its pagoda engraved with a poem, to the Wicklow Mountains. (Or Dublin Mountains, as we Dubliners call them, to annoy people from Wicklow).

It seemed appropriate to choose the Phoenix for the December page of my calendar. After all, that's when the solstice occurs, and the sun, almost dead, comes back to life again. In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (which is brilliant), Dumbledore tells the young wizard that the Phoenix can carry heavy burdens as if they weigh nothing at all. And Dumbledore should know, what with his long beard and everything. So if you do happen to spy the Phoenix when you're out walking in the park, I hope he lets you hitch a ride. I think it would be quite a view.