Bambi was often alone now. But he was not so troubled about it as he had
been the first time. His mother would disappear, and no matter how much
he called her she wouldn’t come back. Later she would appear
unexpectedly and stay with him as before.
One night he was roaming around quite forlorn again. He could not even
find Gobo and Faline. The sky had become pale gray and it began to
darken so that the tree-tops seemed like a vault over the bushy
undergrowth. There was a swishing in the bushes, a loud rustling came
through the leaves and Bambi’s mother dashed out. Someone else raced
close behind her. Bambi did not know whether it was Aunt Ena or his
father or someone else. But he recognized his mother at once. Though she
rushed past him so quickly, he had recognized her voice. She screamed,
and it seemed to Bambi as if it were in play, though he thought it
sounded a little frightened too.
One day Bambi wandered for hours through the thicket. At last he began
to call. He simply couldn’t bear to be so utterly lonely any more. He
felt that pretty soon he’d be perfectly miserable. So he began to call
for his mother.
Suddenly one of the fathers was standing in front of him looking sternly
down at him. Bambi hadn’t heard him coming and was terrified. This stag
looked more powerful than the others, taller and prouder. His coat shone
with a deeper richer red, but his face shimmered, silvery gray. And
tall, black, beaded antlers rose high above his nervous ears.
“What are you crying about?” the old stag asked severely. Bambi trembled
in awe and did not dare answer. “Your mother has no time for you now,”
the old stag went on. Bambi was completely dominated by his masterful
voice and at the same time, he admired it. “Can’t you stay by yourself?
Shame on you!”
Bambi wanted to say that he was perfectly able to stay by himself, that
he had often been left alone already, but he could not get it out. He
was obedient and he felt terribly ashamed. The stag turned around and
was gone. Bambi didn’t know where or how, or whether the stag had gone
slow or fast. He had simply gone as suddenly as he had come. Bambi
strained his ears to listen but he could not catch the sound of a
departing footstep or a leaf stirring. So he thought the old stag must
be somewhere close by and snuffed the air in all directions. It brought
him no scent. Bambi sighed with relief to think he was alone. But he
felt a lively desire to see the old stag again and win his approval.
When his mother came back he did not tell her anything of his encounter.
He did not call her any more either the next time she disappeared. He
thought of the old stag while he wandered around. He wanted very much to
meet him. He wanted to say to him, “See, I don’t call my mother any
more,” so the old stag would praise him.
But he told Gobo and Faline the next time they were together on the
meadow. They listened attentively and had nothing to relate that could
compare with this.
“Weren’t you frightened?” asked Gobo excitedly.
O well—Bambi confessed he had been frightened. But only a little.
“I should have been terribly frightened,” Gobo declared.
Bambi replied, no, he hadn’t been very much afraid, because the stag was
so handsome.
“That wouldn’t have helped me much,” Gobo added, “I’d have been too
afraid to look at him. When I’m frightened I have streaks before my eyes
so that I can’t see at all, and my heart beats so fast that I can’t
breathe.”
Faline became very thoughtful after Bambi’s story and did not say
anything.
But the next time they met, Gobo and Faline bounded up in great haste.
They were alone again and so was Bambi. “We have been hunting for you
all this time,” cried Gobo. “Yes,” Faline said importantly, “because now
we know who it was you saw.” Bambi bounded into the air for curiosity
and asked, “Who?”
Faline said solemnly, “It was the old Prince.”
“Who told you that?” Bambi demanded.
“Mother,” Faline replied.
Bambi was amazed. “Did you tell her the whole story?” They both nodded.
“But it was a secret,” Bambi cried angrily.
Gobo tried to shield himself at once. “I didn’t do it, it was Faline,”
he said. But Faline cried excitedly, “What do you mean, a secret? I
wanted to know who it was. Now we all know and it’s much more exciting.”
Bambi was burning up with desire to hear all about it and let himself be
mollified. Faline told him everything. “The old Prince is the biggest
stag in the whole forest. There isn’t anybody else that compares with
him. Nobody knows how old he is. Nobody can find out where he lives. No
one knows his family. Very few have seen him even once. At times he was
thought to be dead because he hadn’t been seen for so long. Then someone
would see him again for a second and so they knew he was still alive.
Nobody had ever dared ask him where he had been. He speaks to nobody and
no one dares speak to him. He uses trails none of the others ever use.
He knows the very depths of the forest. And he does not know such a
thing as danger. Other Princes fight one another at times, sometimes in
fun or to try each other out, sometimes in earnest. For many years no
one has fought with the old stag. And of those who fought with him long
ago not one is living. He is the great Prince.”
Bambi forgave Gobo and Faline for babbling his secret to their mother.
He was even glad to have found out all these important things, but he
was glad that Gobo and Faline did not know all about it. They did not
know that the great Prince had said, “Can’t you stay by yourself? Shame
on you!” Now Bambi was very glad that he had not told them about these
things. For then Gobo and Faline would have told that along with the
rest, and the whole forest would have gossiped about it.
That night when the moon rose Bambi’s mother came back again. He
suddenly saw her standing under the great oak at the edge of the meadow
looking around for him. He saw her right away and ran to her.
That night Bambi learned something new. His mother was tired and hungry.
They did not walk as far as usual. The mother quieted her hunger on the
meadow where Bambi too was used to eating most of his meals. Side by
side they nibbled at the bushes and pleasantly ruminating, went farther
and farther into the woods.
Presently there was a loud rustling in the bushes. Before Bambi could
guess what it was his mother began to cry aloud as she did when she was
very terrified or when she was beside herself. “Aoh!” she cried and,
giving a bound, stopped and cried, “Aoh, baoh!” Bambi tried to make out
the mighty forms which were drawing near as the rustling grew louder.
They were right near now. They resembled Bambi and Bambi’s mother, Aunt
Ena and all the rest of his family, but they were gigantic and so
powerfully built that he stared up at them overcome.
Suddenly Bambi began to bleat, “Aoh baohbaoh!” He hardly knew he was
bleating. He couldn’t help himself. The procession tramped slowly by.
Three, four giant apparitions, one after the other. The last of them was
bigger than any of the others. He had a wild mane on his neck and his
antlers were tree-like. It took Bambi’s breath away to see them. He
stood and bleated from a heart full of wonder, for he was more weirdly
affected than ever before in his life. He was afraid, but in a peculiar
way. He felt how pitifully small he was, and even his mother seemed to
him to have shrunk. He felt ashamed without understanding why, and at
the same time terror shook him. He bleated, “Baoh! b-a-o-h!” He felt
better when he bleated that way.
[Illustration: _It took Bambi’s breath away to see them._]
The procession had gone by. There was nothing more to be seen or heard.
Even his mother was silent. Only Bambi kept giving short bleats now and
then. He still felt the shock.
“Be still,” his mother said, “they have gone now.”
“O, Mother,” Bambi whispered, “who was it?”
“Well,” said his mother, “they are not so dangerous when all is said and
done. Those are your big cousins, the elk—they are strong and they are
important, far stronger than we are.”
“And aren’t they dangerous?” Bambi asked.
“Not as a rule,” his mother explained. “Of course, a good many things
are said to have happened. This and that is told about them, but I don’t
know if there is any truth in such gossip or not. They’ve never done any
harm to me or to any one of my acquaintances.”
“Why should they do anything to us?” asked Bambi, “if they are cousins
of ours?” He wanted to feel calm but he kept trembling.
“O, they never do anything to us,” his mother answered, “but I don’t
know why, I’m frightened whenever I see them. I don’t understand it
myself. But it happens that way every time.”
Bambi was gradually reassured by her words but he remained thoughtful.
Right above him in the branches of an alder, the screech-owl was hooting
in his blood-curdling way. Bambi was distracted and forgot to act as if
he had been frightened. But the screech-owl flew by anyhow and asked,
“Didn’t I frighten you?”
“Of course,” Bambi replied, “you always frighten me.”
The screech-owl chuckled softly. He was pleased. “I hope you don’t hold
it against me,” he said, “it’s just my way.” He fluffed himself up so
that he resembled a ball, sank his bill in his foamy white feathers and
put on a terribly wise and serious face. He was satisfied with himself.
Bambi poured out his heart to him. “Do you know?” he began slyly, “I’ve
just had a much worse fright.”
“Indeed!” said the owl displeased. Bambi told him about his encounter
with his giant relations.
“Don’t talk to me about relations,” the owl exclaimed, “I’ve got
relations too. But I only fly around in the daytime so they are all down
on me now. No, there isn’t much use in relations. If they’re bigger than
you are, they’re no good to you, and if they’re smaller they’re worth
still less. If they’re bigger than you, you can’t bear them because
they’re proud, and if they’re smaller they can’t bear you because you’re
proud. No, I prefer to have nothing to do with the whole crowd.”
“But, I don’t even know my relations,” Bambi said, laughing shyly, “I
never heard of them, I never saw them before to-day.”
“Don’t bother about such people,” the screech-owl advised. “Believe me,”
and he rolled his eyes significantly, “believe me, it’s the best way.
Relatives are never as good as friends. Look at us, we’re not related in
any way but we’re good friends and that’s much better.”
Bambi wanted to say something else but the screech-owl went on, “I’ve
had experience with such things. You are still too young but, believe
me, I know better. Besides, I don’t like to get mixed up in family
affairs.” He rolled his eyes thoughtfully and looked so impressive with
his serious face that Bambi kept a discreet silence.