Lord Strawberry, a nobleman, collected birds. He had the finest aviary in Europe, so large that eagles did not find it uncomfortable, so well laid out that both humming birds and snowbuntings had a climate that suited them perfectly. But for many years the finest set of apartments remained empty, with just a label saying: "PHOENIX. Habitat: Arabia." Many authorities on bird life had assured Lord Strawberry that the phoenix is a fabulous bird, or that the breed was long extinct. Lord Strawberry was unconvinced: his family had always believed in phoenixes. At intervals he received from his agents (together with statements of their expenses) birds which they declared were the phoenix but which turned out to be orioles, macaws, turkey buzzards dyed orange, etc., or stuffed cross-breeds, ingeniously assembled from various plumages. Finally Lord Strawberry went himself to Arabia, where, after some months, he found a phoenix, won its confidence, caught it, and brought it home in perfect condition. It was a remarkably fine phoenix, with a charming character – affable to the other birds in the aviary and much attached to Lord Strawberry. On its arrival in England it made a greatest stir among ornithologists, journalists, poets, and milliners, and was constantly visited. But it was not puffed by these attentions, and when it was no longer in the news, and the visits fell off, it showed no pique or rancour. It ate well, and seemed perfectly contented. It costs a great deal of money to keep up an aviary. When Lord Strawberry died he died penniless. The aviary came on the market. In normal times the Rarer birds, and certainly the phoenix, would have been bid for by the trustees of Europe’s great zoological societies, or by private persons in the U. S.A.; but as it happened Lord Strawberry died just after a world war, when both money and bird-seed were hard to come by (indeed the cost of bird-seed was one of the things which had ruined Lord Strawberry). The London Times urged in a leader that the phoenix be bought for the London Zoo, saying that a nation of bird-lovers had a moral right to own such a rarity; and a fund, called the Strawberry Phoenix Fund, was opened. Students, naturalists, and school-children contributed according to their means; but their means were small, and there were no large donations. So Lord Strawberry’s executors (who had the death duties to consider) closed with the higher offer of Mr. Tancred Poldero, owner and proprietor of Poldero’s Wizard Wonderworld. For quite a while Mr. Poldero considered his phoenix a bargain. It was a civil and obliging bird, and adapted itself readily to its new surroundings. It did not cost much to feed, it did not mind children; and though it had no tricks, Mr. Poldero supposed it would soon pick up some. The publicity of the Strawberry Phoenix Fund was now most helpful. Almost every contributor now saved up another half-crown in order to see the phoenix. Others, who had not contributed to the fund, even paid double to look at it on the five-shilling days. But then business slackened. The phoenix was as handsome as ever, and amiable; but, as Mr. Poldero said, it hadn’t got Udge. Even at popular prices the phoenix was not really popular. It was too quiet, too classical. So people went instead to watch the antics of the baboons, or to admire the crocodile who had eaten the woman. One day Mr. Poldero said to his manager, Mr. Ramkin: "How long since any fool paid to look at the phoenix?" "Matter of three weeks," replied Mr. Ramkin. "Eating his head off," said Mr. Poldero. "Let alone the insurance. Seven shillings a week it costs me to insure the Archbishop of Canterbury." "The public don’t like him. He’s too quiet for them, that’s the trouble. Won’t mate nor nothing. And I’ve tried him with no end of pretty pollies, ospreys, and Cochin-Chinas, and the Lord knows what. But he won’t look at them." "Wonder if we could swap him for a livelier one," said Mr. Poldero. "Impossible. There’s only one of him at a time." "Go on!" "I mean it. Haven’t you ever read what it says on the label?" They went to the phoenix’s cage. It flapped its wings politely, but they paid no attention.
-Kim