The meadow had long since lost its catkins. Everything began to turn
green, although the young leaves on the bushes and the trees were
still small. Shimmering in the tender light of early morning they
showed a smiling freshness and seemed like little children when they
have just woken up.
Bambi stood in front of a hazel bush, striking his new crown against
the wood. That was so enjoyable. And it was also necessary, as the
glory of his head was still wrapped in velvet and fur. They had to
come off, that was a matter of course; and no-one with any sense of
tidiness would just wait for them to fall off by themselves. Bambi
swept his crown so that the coating of velvet was torn into shreds,
and long strips of it dangled around his ears. While he struck up and
down at the hazel bush he felt that his crown was harder than it had
been. This feeling permeated his whole being and gave him an
inebriating sense of pride and strength. He pushed himself harder
against the bush and this coating was torn off in long pieces. The
naked, white wood could be seen, and in the unfamiliar open air it
quickly turned a rusty red. Bambi was not able to care about that. He
saw the pale flesh of the wood flash up under his movements, and that
enchanted him. Here in this round place there were many other hazel
bushes and dogwood bushes that showed the marks of his efforts.
“Have you nearly finished then ...?” said a cheerful voice from
nearby.
Bambi threw his head up and looked around.
There sat the squirrel with a friendly look on his face.
Bambi and the squirrel were nearly startled by the woodpecker who,
sitting close in to the trunk of the oak tree, called down, “Oh,
please excuse me ... I always ‘ave to laugh when I see the two of you
like that.”
“What is it then that’s making you laugh so loudly?” asked Bambi
politely.
“Well then,” thought the woodpecker, “you’re doing the whole thing
wrong. For one thing, you ought to have chosen a tree that’s stronger,
you won’t get anything from a thin little hazel bush.”
“What should I be getting, then?” asked Bambi.
“Beetles ...” the woodpecker laughed. “Beetles and grubs ... Look,
this is how you do it!” He drummed on trunk of the oak. Tok, tok, tok,
tok.
The squirrel rushed up to him and quarrelsomely asked, “What do you
think you’re talking about? The prince isn’t looking for beetles and
grubs ...”
“Why not?” asked the woodpecker complacently. They taste delicious ...
“He bit into a beetle, swallowed it, and went on drumming.
“You don’t understand,” the squirrel scolded again. “A noble gentleman
like this has other, higher goals to pursue. You just make yourself
look ridiculous.”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” the woodpecker replied. “I don’t care a
thing about these higher goals of yours,” he called cheerfully and
flew away.
The squirrel scampered back down.
“Don’t you know me?” he asked, looking very satisfied with himself.
“I think I do know you,” was Bambi’s friendly answer. “You live up
there ...” And he indicated the oak tree above them.
The squirrel looked at him with a grin. “You’re confusing me with my
grandmother,” he said. “I knew it. I knew you were confusing me with
my grandmother. My grandmother lived up there ever since she was a
child, Prince Bambi. She often told me about you. Only ... only then
she was killed by the polecat ... a long time ago, that was ... in the
wintertime ... don’t you remember?”
“Yes, I do,” Bambi nodded. “I heard about it.”
“Well then ... and after that my father moved in here,” the squirrel
told him. He sat up, showed astonishment in his eyes, and held both
his paws politely on his white breast. “But ... you might also be
confusing me with my father. Did you know my father?”
“I’m afraid not,” Bambi answered. “I never did have that pleasure.”
“That’s what I thought!” exclaimed the squirrel in satisfaction. “My
father was so surly and shy. He didn’t have any contact with anyone.”
“Where is he now?” Bambi asked.
“Oh,” said the squirrel, “a month ago the owl got him. Yes. And now
it’s me who lives up here. I’m very satisfied with it. Just think, it
was up here that I was born.”
Bambi began to turn and was about to go.
“Wait,” called the squirrel quickly. “I didn’t really mean to tell you
all that stuff. I wanted to say something completely different.”
Bambi stayed where he was. “What was that then?” he asked patiently.
“Yeah ... what was that?” The squirrel thought about it, then made
another sudden leap, sat upright leaning against his magnificent bushy
tail, and looked at Bambi. “Right! Now I’ve got it,” he continued to
burble. “I wanted to tell you that you’ll soon be ready with that
crown of yours, and it’s going to be very beautiful.”
“Do you think so?” asked Bambi, pleased.
“Beautiful!” declared the squirrel, and in his enthusiasm he pressed
both his forepaws against his white breast. “So high! So majestic! And
such long, bright points! You don’t often find them like that!”
“Really?” Bambi asked. He became so pleased that he went back to the
hazel bush and started striking at it for a little while longer. The
velvet was thrown around into the air in long strands.
Meanwhile the squirrel went on speaking. “I really must say that
others of your age don’t have a crown as magnificent as yours. You
wouldn’t think it’s possible. Anyone who knew you last summer – and I
did catch sight of you a few times in the distance - probably wouldn’t
believe you’re the same deer ... such thin little sticks you had in
those days ...”
Bambi suddenly stopped. “Goodbye,” he said hurriedly, “I have to go!”
And he ran off.
He did not like being reminded of the previous summer. It had been a
difficult time for him. First of all, after his mother had disappeared
he had felt totally abandoned. The winter had been so long, the spring
came hesitantly and it was a long time before anything green
appeared. Without Mrs. Nettla Bambi would not have been able to
manage, but she had taken him in and helped him in every way she
could. Nonetheless, he often found himself alone. He missed Gobo all
the time, poor Gobo, who must now be dead, like the others. Gobo was
continually on his mind at this time, and it was only too late that he
realized how lovable and he had been. He rarely saw Faline. She always
stayed close to her mother, and turned out to be remarkably
shy. Later, when, at last, it had become warm, Bambi began to recover
his mood. He wiped his first crown clean of its velvet and was very
proud of it. But a bitter disappointment was soon to follow. The other
crown-wearers chased him away whenever they saw him. They pushed him
away angrily, they would not tolerate him going close to anyone,
mishandled him, until, with every step he took, he was afraid of being
found by them, afraid of being seen anywhere, and he crept along the
most hidden paths with a feeling of being oppressed. At the same time,
while the days became warmer and sunnier, he became gripped by a
strange unease. His heart became ever more oppressed with a yearning
that was both painful and welcome. Whenever he happened to see Faline
or one of her friends in the distance he was overcome by a storm of
excitement that he could not understand. It even happened quite often
that that he would recognize just a trace of where she had been, or
that he would draw in breath to test the air and smell that she was
nearby. He felt irresistibly drawn to her ever more often. But if he
gave in to this longing that drew him to her it always turned out
badly. Either he would find no-one and in the end, tired out after
wandering about for so long, have to acknowledge that the others were
avoiding him, or he came across one of the crowned heads, who would
immediately leap out at him, hit him, push him and drive him away,
shouting insults. Worst of all, Ronno and Karus had taken against
him. No, that was not a happy time.
And now the squirrel had stupidly reminded him of it. He suddenly
became quite wild and began to run. The tits and the wrens flew out of
the bushes in alarm as he went past them and asked each other
urgently, “Who’s that then ... Who was that?” Bambi did not hear
them. A pair of magpies laughed nervously, “Has something happened?”
The jay was cross and shouted, “What’s going on?” Bambi paid him no
attention. Above him the oriole flew from tree to tree, “Good morning
... I’m ... hap-hap-happy!” Bambi made no answer. All around him the
thicket was already light and the rays of the sun ran through it in
fine beams. Bambi did not bother about that. There was a sudden loud
rattling sound from near his feet; a whole rainbow of gorgeous colours
flashed up and shone into his eyes so that he was dazzled and he
stopped. It was Janello, the pheasant, who had shot into the air in
startlement because Bambi had nearly stepped on him. He rushed away,
scolding Bambi as he went. “Unheard of!” he shouted in his cracked,
crow-like voice. Bambi was bewildered and watched him go. “Well it’s
turned out alright, but you really were being very careless ...” said
a soft, twittering voice from nearby on the ground. It was Janelline,
the pheasant’s wife. She sat, brooding, on the ground. My husband was
terribly alarmed,” she continued, dissatisfied, “and so was I. But I
can’t move from this spot ... I can’t move from this spot whatever
happens ... you could very easily have trodden on me ...”
Bambi was slightly ashamed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he stuttered, “I wasn’t
paying attention.”
Janelline answered, “Oh, please! Maybe it wasn’t quite that bad. But
my husband and I, we’re so nervous at present. You understand ...”
Bambi understood nothing at all and went on his way. He had become
calmer now. All around him the wood was singing. The light became
warmer and more golden, the leaves on the bushes, the grass on the
ground and steam rising from the damp earth took on a sharp
aroma. Bambi’s youthful strength swelled up in him and stretched out
into all his limbs so that he became quite stiff, his movements became
hesitant as if he were something artificial.
He went over to a small elder bush and, lifting his knees high into
the air, he struck against the ground with powerful blows so that
clods of earth flew up from it. His fine, sharp, cloven hoof cut the
grass away that was growing here, wild peas and wild leeks, violets
and snowdrops, he scraped them all away till the earth lay before him
quite dashed and bare. With each blow a dull thump could be heard.
Bambi caught the attention of two moles who had been tumbling around
at the roots of an old privet bush. They looked up and watched
him. “But ... that’s just ridiculous, what he’s doing,” whispered one
of them. “That’s not how you dig ...”
The other raised the fine corners of his mouth into a jeering grin.
“He’s got no idea ... that’s obvious ... But that’s what you get when
people do things they don’t understand.”
Bambi suddenly stopped, lifted his head up high, listened, and looked
around at the undergrowth. There was a flash of red between the twigs,
it was unclear, but he could make out the points of a crown. Bambi
snorted. Whoever it was creeping about there, Ronno or Karus or anyone
else – go at him! I’ll show him I’m not afraid of them any more, he
thought! It was as if he had suddenly been taken over by his own
exhilaration. I’ll show them that I’m the one they should be afraid
of!
He ran into the bushes with such force that they rattled, the branches
cracked and broke. Now, Bambi could see the other deer in front of
him. He was not able to recognize him because everything was swimming
in front of his eyes. He could think of nothing but that he should go
at him! With his crown lowered deep he stormed forward, gathering all
his strength into his neck, ready to strike. He could already smell
his opponent’s hairy coat, could already see nothing in front of him
but the red wall of his flank. Then the other made a very gentle
movement. Bambi had expected him to stay still but he was robbed of
this advantage when he rushed at him his antlers met nothing but thin
air. He nearly fell over, but he staggered, pulled himself together,
and swung back round to renew his attack.
The he saw who the elder was.
Bambi was so surprised he lost control of himself. He would have been
ashamed to simply run from the spot, although that was what he most
wanted to do. And he was ashamed to stay. He did not move.
“What’s this then?” the elder asked quietly. His deep voice, at the
same time so relaxed and so imperious, drove itself, as it always did,
straight through the centre of Bambi’s heart. He remained silent.
The elder asked again, “What’s all this?”
“I ... I thought,” stammered Bambi. “I th ... thought it was Ronno or
...” He became silent and dared to look shyly at the elder, and as he
looked he became even more bewildered.
The aged one stood there, motionless and powerful. His head had, by
now, turned perfectly white, and his dark, proud eyes shone from their
depths.
“Why not against me ...?” the aged one asked.
Bambi looked at him, filled with a remarkable enthusiasm and
shuddering with a mysterious thrill. He wanted to call out, “Because I
love you!” But, instead, he answered, “I don’t know ...”
The aged one looked at him. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.
You’ve grown big and strong.”
Bambi gave no answer. He trembled with joy.
The elder continued, he wanted to test him and make his assessment of
him. Then, surprisingly, he stepped very close to Bambi, causing Bambi
much alarm. “Whatever you do, do it with nobility ...,” the aged one
said.
He turned away, and in the next moment he was gone. Bambi remained on
the same spot for a long time afterwards.