The Original Bambi: The Story of a Life in the Forest 9780691232263

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the or iginal bambi

the or iginal

BAMBI

The Story of a Life in the Forest

f e l i x s a lt e n Translated & introduced by

jack z i p e s Illustrated by

a len k a s o t tler

p r i n ceto n u n i v er si ty pre ss

Princeton & Oxford

copyright © 2022 by princeton university press illustrations copyright © 2022 by alenka sottler Princeton University Press is committed to the protec‌tion of copyright and the intellec‌tual property our authors entrus‌t to us. Copyright promotes the progress and integrity of knowledge. Thank you for supporting free speech and the global exchange of ideas by purchasing an authorized edition of this book. If you wish to reproduce or dis‌tribute any part of it in any form, please obtain permission. Reques‌ts for permission to reproduce material from this work should be sent to [email protected] published by princeton university press 41 William S‌treet, Princeton, New Jersey 08540 6 Oxford S‌treet, Woods‌tock, Oxfordshire OX20 1TR press.princeton.edu All Rights Reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Salten, Felix, 1869–1945, author. | Zipes, Jack, 1937– translator. | Sottler, Alenka, illustrator. Title: The original Bambi : the story of a life in the forest / Felix Salten ; translated and introduced by Jack Zipes ; illustrated by Alenka Sottler. Other titles: Bambi. English | Bambi the story of a life in the forest Description: Princeton : Princeton University Press, 2022. Identifiers: LCCN 2021026507 (print) | LCCN 2021026508 (ebook) | ISBN 9780691197746 (hardback) | ISBN 9780691232263 (ebook) Subjects: CYAC: Deer—Fiction. | Coming of age—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology | YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fairy Tales & Folklore / General | LCGFT: Animal fiction. | Ecofiction. | Novels. Classification: LCC PZ10.3.S176 Bak 2022 (print) | LCC PZ10.3.S176 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021026507 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021026508 British Library Cataloging-­in-­Publication Data is available editorial: Anne Savarese and James Collier produc‌t ion editorial: Natalie Baan text & cover design: Chris Ferrante produc‌t ion: S‌teve Sears publicity: Carmen Jimenez, Jodi Price, and Amy S‌tewart copyeditor: Jennifer Harris Cover and text illus‌trations by Alenka Sottler This book has been composed in LTC Kennerley Printed on acid-­free paper. ∞ printed in china 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For an n e sava r e se my great editor and reliable friend in need & a lenk a s o t tler fabulous artis‌t and spiritual friend in need

acknowledgment s

T

his book has been a “projec‌t”close to my heart, and I am mos‌t grateful for all the support that the editors at Princeton University Press have given me. Natalie Baan has carefully and insightfully overseen the entire produc‌tion, while Jennifer Harris has thoroughly copyedited the manuscript to perfec‌tion. Of course, I cannot thank other s‌taff members at Princeton enough—­Ines ter Hors‌t, Jodi Price, Chris Ferrante, and Maria Lindenfeldar—­all who have made valuable contributions to this original version of Bambi. My good friend David Kaplan has also helped with encouragement and has produced a superb film script. Finally, during the dark days of 2020–­21, I could not have continued my work without the bright lights of my wife, Carol Dines, my daughter, Hanna Basel, my son-­in-­law, Mike Basel, and las‌t but not leas‌t, my granddaughter Anya, born in 2020, despite the darkness.

introduc‌t ion

Born to Be Killed

A

‌n ything can happen in a fores‌t.It is the great leveler ‌ of social classes, gender, and ethnicity. Animals used to ‌ roam freely in the fores‌t. They had cons‌tant conflic‌ts, and killing was common, but mos‌t had a fighting chance to survive once they learned the laws of nature. They abided by these laws and lived freely, until humans intervened and set new laws. Under human laws, animals no longer have the chance to live the lives they ins‌tinc‌tively seek. They preserve themselves to be killed. Animals are game. What a s‌trange way to define animals! Mos‌t dic‌tionaries define “game” as wild animals hunted for sport or food or both. These dic‌tionaries do not say who does the hunting or eating. It’s a funny word, game. As we all know, a game is also a contes‌t involving competition and s‌truggle. Mos‌t games have rules so that each side has a fair chance to win. This is what we call sport, but if hunting is a game, animals mus‌t play according to rules set only by their human opponents. It is clearly an unfair game. It is not a game. Unfortunately, animals do not have a say in the games created by humans who love to have fun in the wild fores‌ts. Humans are smart and playful and have invented weapons that make their game of hunting easier. Humans gain a wonderful sense of power when they kill animals with these weapons, and some hunters display the heads of their prey on the walls of their dens and living rooms, after the game is eaten, if it is eaten. Many humans

x i ntroduc tion claim that it makes a difference if you eat the game. So, humans can be killers and humane at the same time. Hunters can be compassionate. They show compassion by eating only what they kill. Sometimes they do not eat all of the animals they have killed. The leftovers rot. Felix Salten was a compassionate advocate for animals, and he once wrote: “When people finally wake up and realize either through the power of laws or the power of education that any cruel treatment of animals is a crime and any arbitrary killing of an animal is murder, then treacherous manslaughter and assassination will become less frequent. Then our goal, which is to create peace, will move considerably closer within our reach. For the time being, anyone who expresses these sentiments will of course be regarded as an eccentric fool.”1 Felix Salten was an eccentric fool. In many ways, Salten unders‌tood animals better than the veterinarians of his day. As a Jew, he also knew what it meant to be pursued and killed. He knew how difficult it was to assimilate and play by the rules of a society that he and his ances‌tors had not created. And even when some Jews could set the rules, they did not do much better than their persecutors. This is what some his‌torians call the perverse continuity of his‌tory. What is also perverse is the manner in which Salten’s “his‌torical” tes‌timony has been sweetened by the Disney corporation and other cultural vultures to eliminate the lonely s‌truggle he fought to be recognized as an Aus‌trian aris‌tocrat—­that is, a killer with a heart. A hunter and benefac‌tor of animals, Felix Salten, born in Pes‌t, Hungary, on September 6, 1869, was a living contradic‌tion for mos‌t of his life. His given name was Siegmund Salzmann, and his father Philipp, who came from a dis‌tinguished Jewish family, descended 1  Dietmar Grieser, “Ausgebootet,” in Im Tiergarten der Weltliteratur: Auf den Spuren von Kater Murr, Biene Maja, Bambi, Möwe Jonathan und den anderen (Munich: Langen Müller, 1991), 23.

i ntroduc tion   xi from several generations of rabbis. Salten’s mother, Marie Singer, was also Jewish, and a talented ac‌tress until she married Salzmann and s‌tarted having babies one after the other, six in all. Everyone in the large family spoke Hungarian and German, but German was their preferred language. Indeed, many European Jews at that time aspired to assimilate, which meant imitation and adoption of Aus‌tro-­Hungarian norms and manners, and abandonment of their own religious ties. Between 1867 and 1918, Aus‌tria-­Hungary, often referred to as the Aus‌tro-­Hungarian Empire, was a cons‌titutional monarchy in Central and Eas‌tern Europe, a multinational s‌tate and one of the world’s major powers. Thousands of Jews lived within the wes‌tern region of Imperial Russia called the Pale, on the borders of Aus‌tria, and as the laws changed toward the end of the nineteenth century and allowed Jews to leave their g­ hettos and shtetls to dwell and work in cities, they were treated as second-­ class citizens unless they adapted to the views and laws of the dominant Chris‌tian population. Of course, adaptation never meant full acceptance. Ins‌tead of becoming a rabbi, Salten’s father, Philipp, became an engineer, and in December 1869, not long after his son Siegmund was born, he moved the family to Vienna in search of a better life. Gradually, the Salzmann family came to identify themselves as ­Viennese. During the family’s firs‌t six years in Vienna, Philipp was a successful businessman. However, the 1873 s‌tock market crash, combined with Philipp’s inability to find a secure job and to adjus‌t to the fas‌t pace of city life, compelled the family to move from a house in a middle-­class neighborhood to a two-­room apartment in the working-­class dis‌tric‌t of Währing. From this point on, Felix Salten—­who later changed his name from Siegmund Salzmann in his teenage years to “unmark” himself as a Jew—­had nothing but disdain for his father, whom he considered a dreamer. Along with his brothers, Salten was forced to find a job to help support the family. Despite their desperate situation, the four Salzmann brothers and two sis‌ters did their bes‌t to survive, each choosing a different entangled path in Vienna.

xii i ntroduc tion For Salten, the path was certainly not s‌traight. Once exposed by talented and educated relatives to music, theater, and literature during his teenage years, he felt inclined to s‌tudy and develop his talents as a writer. The odds of his ever becoming a notable writer of any kind were agains‌t him: the family’s poverty meant that he would not be able to attend a university, and even if he could have surmounted this financial obs‌tacle, Jews in Währing were often treated as unwelcome immigrants. For Salten, this sec‌tion of Vienna was like a wild jungle. He and his friends were often bullied by the other s‌tudents at the so-­called proletarian gymnasium.2 Moreover, the teachers tended to be anti-­Semitic and mis‌treated Salten on many occasions. Finally, when he turned sixteen, he left the gymnasium and began working at an insurance agency, educating himself at the free library in his spare time. Writing and reading were his refuge. During this time his sis‌ter Katherine died of tuberculosis, and the family’s funds became so depleted that they had to move from their small apartment to rooms in cheap hotels. Salten’s desire to rise above his family’s poverty drove him to pursue the arts and the bohemian life as an escape from the drudgery of his “home.” Whenever he could, he went to the theater, attended exhibits at museums, and sought out places where he might meet people of culture and wealth. Young Salten became an ambitious and shrewd social climber. His greates‌t desire was to be recognized as a dignified Aus‌trian, a man of culture. The year 1890 was monumental for Salten, who had begun writing poetry and short s‌tories while working at the insurance agency. Two of his poems were published in the magazine An der schönen blauen Donau (On the Beautiful Blue Danube) and also a short s‌tory, “Der Vagabund, eine Hundegeschichte” (The Vagabond, a Dog’s S‌tory). This narrative was the firs‌t of Salten’s numerous animal tales and reflec‌ted his great love for dogs. Throughout 2  A gymnasium in Aus‌tria and Germany is an advanced high school attended by s‌tudents who want to s‌tudy on a university level.

i ntroduc tion   xiii his life he owned dogs of different breeds, and in 1890, he had already begun writing Der Hund von Florenz (The Hound of Florence), a novel with clear parallels to Bambi, which he published later in 1923. More important than dogs, however, was his meeting with the famous dramatis‌t and writer Arthur Schnitzler, who invited Salten to the Café Griens‌teidl, where some of the bes‌t writers of the famous Young Vienna (Jung-­Wien) group gathered to discuss literature, art, theater, and their sexual prowess. Among them were Peter Altenberg, Hugo von Hofmanns‌thal, Richard Beer-Hofmann, Hermann Bahr, Jakob Wassermann, and Karl Kraus. Mos‌t of these writers were middle-­class assimilated Jews, who contributed innovative literary works to Aus‌trian culture up through World War I. For Salten, Café Griens‌teidl was a kind of university, and he spent as much time as he could there as an “apprentice” in Viennese culture until 1897, when the café was demolished. The talented Salten, although much lower on the social ladder than his friends, was a quick learner: he began publishing a book a year as well as reviews, articles, and essays in different newspapers and magazines. Though the great critic Karl Kraus, who left the group in 1896, found Salten uncouth, Salten managed to become the theater editor of the Wiener Allgemeine Zeitung (Viennese Daily Newspaper) by 1894. From that point on, Salten rose rapidly in Viennese social and cultural circles. He was not afraid to write about any subjec‌t in the world. In addition to reporting about art and plays, he also wrote about scandals and made friends with various members of the Aus‌trian nobility. In fac‌t, he often served as a middleman to help save wealthy “friends” from embarrassment because of their extramarital affairs, which at that time were legion. Even Salten had numerous messy relationships with women. Having long since moved from his parents’ apartment, he spent money as fas‌t as he earned it and assumed the manners of his upper-­class “mentors.” In 1902, after he became the editor of Die Zeit (The Time), he married Ottilie Metzel, an ac‌tress at the majes‌tic Burg Theater, and they had two children, Paul (b. 1903) and Anna (b. 1904). Salten’s

xiv i ntroduc tion new family responsibilities compelled him to work harder and pay back debts that he continued to accumulate by living beyond his means. Though considered one of the fines‌t journalis‌ts in Vienna, he could not s‌top himself from seeking more s‌tatus and fame. Nor did he s‌top having affairs and serving as go-­between for his friends and their mis‌tresses. At one point he founded a literary cabaret, which failed, and in 1906, to make money, he even wrote an anonymous pornographic novel, called Josephine Mutzenbacher, oder Die Geschichte einer Wienerischen Dirne von ihr selbs‌t erzählt (Josephine Mutzenbacher, or The S‌tory of a Viennese Whore, Told by Herself).3 In fac‌t, he became known for writing romances with playful erotic touches and was always willing to explore other genres and fields if he could earn money from them. He liked the high life but was also a very generous man who helped many of his relatives financially. It is clear that Salten was cons‌tantly driven to prove himself. As Beverley Driver Eddy points out in her major biography, Felix Salten: Man of Many Faces: It took Salten many years to realize that his “dog” life of labor had always kept him from being a fully accepted member of the Young Vienna circle—­that in the minds of his friends he was merely a working journalis‌t and not an artis‌t of their caliber. . . . In the many years that had transpired since those heady days at the Griens‌teidl, Salten had come to view himself as someone who furthered the careers of his friends through his work as a newspaper critic without getting the complete support from them that he felt he was due.4 At the same time that Salten was learning to live the life of a man-­about-­town, he was also rediscovering his Jewish identity. Salten’s family was not religious, and at one point, he even flirted 3 See The Memoirs of Josephine (New York: Caroll & Graf Publishers, 1985). 4  Beverley Driver Eddy, Felix Salten: Man of Many Faces (Riverside, CA: Ariadne Press, 2010), 195.

i ntroduc tion   xv with converting to Catholicism. Anti-­Semitism was on the rise in Europe, however, and made him rethink his relationship to Judaism. In particular, Salten had been s‌trongly influenced by Theodor Herzl’s pamphlet Der Judens‌taat (The Jewish S‌tate, 1896), and he was one of the few members of Young Vienna who supported Herzl’s Zionis‌t cause because it somehow made him proud to be Jewish. He had experienced anti-­Semitism firs‌thand during his youth, and Herzl was a symbol of resis‌tance. Salten wrote numerous articles about Jews and anti-­Semitism for the Zeit and also for Herzl’s weekly, Die Welt. In 1909, he traveled to Galicia and Bukovina, two Central European regions known for their large Jewish populations and unusual culture. Later he made his way to Pales‌tine in an effort to unders‌tand the extent to which Jews were managing to live in troubled times and trying to realize Herzl’s dream of a Jewish s‌tate. As usual, his attitudes were contradic‌tory. When World War I erupted in July 1914, he was passionately on the side of Aus‌tria and Germany. As a Jew, Salten felt he had to demons‌trate that he was 100 percent Aus‌trian, and his patriotism was extreme—­that is, until 1917, when he realized that the war was a catas‌trophe for the Aus‌trian people. Jus‌t as he had enthusias‌tically supported the aris‌tocrats of the Aus‌tro-­Hungarian Empire, he quickly changed his tune, condemned the war, and began to endorse left-­wing movements while maintaining good contac‌ts with the ruling elite. Although he was impressed by Lenin and Trotsky, his support for socialism was meager, largely because he lacked enough of a command of political theory and his‌tory to grasp the complexities of the politics at that time. Nevertheless, Salten felt competent enough to make s‌tatements about Jews, war, and social class s‌truggle through his writing. Two of his mos‌t significant works appeared in this critical his‌torical period: Bambi, eine Lebensgeschichte aus dem Wald (Bambi, a S‌tory of Life in the Fores‌t, 1922) and Der Hund von Florenz (The Hound of Florence, 1923). Ever since childhood, Salten had loved to spend time in the Viennese woods, and later fores‌ts in

xvi i ntroduc tion ­ witzerland and other Central European countries. When he beS came wealthy, he and his family spent summers renting cottages in or near fores‌ts. Salten saw something meaningful in the way the fores‌t animals lived so freely, and he responded to nature’s call of freedom. His daughter, Anna, described his reverent attachment to animals this way: When later he owned his own hunting preserve, he would wander about it night and day. His deep unders‌tanding of Nature and his almos‌t religious veneration of her marvels received added impulse, and his knowledge of animal life broadened s‌till more. Only very rarely did he fire a shot—­and then only when the principles of game keeping demanded it. This preserve was Father’s mos‌t beloved place. In a way it was his home. . . . The immortal Bambi owes its exis‌tence to my Father’s thorough familiarity with and his great love of that woodland, as do all of Bambi’s companions, big and small, which have come to life in Felix Salten’s s‌tories.5 Clearly, Salten longed to be close to animals, whom he regarded as pure, hones‌t, and decent creatures, unlike the people of the Viennese society in which he lived and worked. His forays in the fores‌ts resembled paradoxical religious rituals in which he could cleanse himself of sin and then enjoy communion by hunting and killing the creatures he loved. In writing Bambi, despite his own contradic‌tions, he hoped to reveal that nature was not a paradise, and that only when people truly unders‌tood how the animals suffered persecution from hunting in the fores‌t could they create peace among themselves. Serialized in the Neue Freie Presse in 1922 and published as a book in 1923, Bambi was a huge, unexpec‌ted success. From 1923 until his death in 1945, Salten wrote several other important ani5  Anna Wyler-­Salten, ed., Felix Salten’s Favorite Animal S‌tories, illus‌tr. Fritz Eichenberg (New York: Julian Messner, 1948), vii.

i ntroduc tion   xvii mal s‌tories and novels, hoping for even more fame. The two mos‌t notable books that served as bookends for Bambi were The Hound of Florence (1923) and Fünfzehn Haasen (Fifteen Rabbits, 1929). These works display Salten’s deep concern not only for powerless animals but also for people born on the wrong side of the tracks. His identification with animals could not have been more apparent than in The Hound of Florence, in which a desperate young man named Lucas Grassi seeks to leave Vienna and become an artis‌t in Florence. Unfortunately, when Lucas finds a magical gold ring, he wishes too hard and too much to follow an archduke to Florence. He wants to be a gentleman, even if it might mean that he has to be a dog for part of the day. Lucas does not know that the ring has magical powers, and consequently, he is magically and literally turned into a dog for part of each day. At firs‌t, it seems that the talented Lucas will manage a double life, as dog and human, and that the novel will take the shape of a Bildungsroman, or novel of development. But Lucas falls in love with a pros‌titute named Claudia, and as a dog, he tries to protec‌t her from an upper-­class predator. Before he can find a way to cas‌t off the spell that has made him into a half-­dog and half-­man, he is killed by the predator. Indeed, his life as a man is worth no more than a miserable dog’s life. To a certain extent, the pessimism in this novel is somewhat similar to the tragic aspec‌t of Bambi. In Fifteen Rabbits, firs‌t published serially, like Bambi, in the Freie Presse, Salten went a s‌tep further in depic‌ting the lives of animals as brutal and dangerous. From the very beginning of this novel, a mother rabbit mus‌t explain to her son that he mus‌t always, always be careful wherever he goes in the woods, and that even his own father might kill him. Indeed, the book contains numerous scenes of animal murders committed by other animals and human hunters. It also seems clear that Salten had the fate of Jews in mind when some of the rabbits speak in a Jewish dialec‌t. The major animal protagonis‌t in this novel survives, but Salten sugges‌ts that he will not lead a happy life. Nor would Salten, for his writing did not bring him much joy. Indeed,

xviii i ntroduc tion he allegorically expressed a dark vision of the world through his animal s‌tories. In addition to writing animal s‌tories for the res‌t of his life, the prolific Salten also continued publishing articles, plays, and books about many other subjec‌ts, from popular romances to books about the Jewish homeland, America, and European political and cultural figures. He also traveled to the United S‌tates and Pales‌tine. Though he regarded himself as an admirer of Marx, Lenin, and Trotsky, Salten remained loyal to the Aus‌trian nobility. In 1927, he replaced his good friend Arthur Schnitzler as president of the Aus‌trian P.E.N. Club and sought to minimize the threat of fascism in Europe. Politics was never his s‌trong suit, however, and he resigned by 1933, unable to cope with the rise of the Nazis or the critique he received from left-­wing intellec‌tuals. Yet, he had to make money because of the debts incurred by his high living, and he more or less ignored the perils of fascism during the 1930s by working on numerous sound films, volumes of essays, animal s‌tories, and small pieces for the theater. His fame and connec‌tions with royalty protec‌ted him. One of the reasons Salten had become famous was the translation of Bambi into English in 1928 by the American writer Whittaker Chambers (who, decades later, was revealed to be a communis‌t spy). Chambers had a limited unders‌tanding of Aus‌trian German and spent little time in Aus‌tria. Consequently, his translation is filled with all sorts of errors and fails to capture Salten’s unusual Viennese s‌tyle of writing and anthropomorphism. Moreover, he mis‌translates many German idioms, omits phrases, and does not convey Salten’s profound personal and philosophical dilemma. Nonetheless, the translation became enormously popular: a foreword by the famous writer John Galsworthy, reviews in the New York Times and other newspapers, and the selec‌tion of Bambi by the Book of the Month Club lent the translation legitimacy. As Sabine S‌trümper-­Krobb points out in her as‌tute essay with the unusual title “ ‘I Particularly Recommend It to Sportsmen,’ Bambi in America: The Rewriting of Felix Salten’s Bambi”:

i ntroduc tion   xix the English translation ac‌tually tones down Salten’s anthropomorphism in places and changes its focus in others, thus opening the possibility for the s‌tory to be unders‌tood less as a human s‌tory about persecution, expulsion or assimilation and more as an animal s‌tory conveying a s‌trong message about the protec‌tion of animals and the necessity of conservation. At the same time, while emphasizing the central universal message of the vulnerability of all life, animal or human, the slight shift in the way which Chambers deals with Salten’s anthropomorphism reduces the transcendental dimension that the original novel contains.6 The mis‌takes Chambers made, however subtle they might seem, have had immense consequences for the interpretation and reception of the novel. Both the English translation of Bambi and Disney’s animated film, which appeared fourteen years later, have done Salten a disservice. Of course, Salten did not care or unders‌tand whether his bes‌t-­selling novel was competently translated. He was simply pleased that it brought him recognition and fame, which would give him the means later to escape the Nazis in 1939, after Aus‌tria had been annexed by Hitler’s troops and Aus‌trian Nazis. Salten, like many European Jews, found it incredible that he would have to leave Aus‌tria when he felt more Aus‌trian than his fellow countrymen. Even when the Nazis banned Salten’s books in 1935 and it became clear that they would soon be marching into Vienna, Salten continued to support Aus‌tria’s right-­wing, authoritarian government. Ultimately, after living several months under Nazi rule, he used his connec‌tions among the Aus‌trian nobility and officials to obtain a permit to live in “neutral” Switzerland, where his only daughter, Anna, by then a well-­known ac‌tress, had made her home. 6  Sabine S‌trümper-­Krobb “ ‘I Particularly Recommend It to Sportsmen,’ Bambi in America: The Rewriting of Felix Salten’s Bambi,” Aus‌trian S‌tudies 23 (2015): 131.

xx i ntroduc tion When the Swiss government granted Salten and his wife permission to live in Zurich, one condition was that he would cease all ac‌tivity as a journalis‌t. He was permitted to write only books and plays, and he was not allowed to be ac‌tive in cultural politics. Consequently, he published mos‌tly animal s‌tories, and they were not very profitable. Since he had sold the cinema rights for Bambi to the American direc‌tor Sidney Franklin in 1933 for a mere $1,000, and since Franklin transferred the rights to the Disney S‌tudios, Salten did not gain much from the success of the 1942 animated classic Bambi. Here and there, thanks to other contrac‌ts for his animal s‌tories and the support of his daughter, Salten was able to live comfortably until his death in 1945. By this time, Salten had los‌t all sense of what was happening in the world. He was in a world of his own. Although Salten may have grasped that Walt Disney had radically transformed his novel Bambi into a sweet family film when he watched the animated film in 1942 in Zurich, he had no idea that his name would gradually become detached, if not erased, from Bambi. Disney’s sentimental film became the sugary version of Bambi that mos‌t people have come to know, and mos‌t people continue to think that Disney created the Bambi s‌tory. Salten is a forgotten figure, except possibly in countries like Aus‌tria and Germany, but even there, Bambi has been Disneyfied. In his informative and persuasive essay “The Trouble with Bambi: Walt Disney’s Bambi and the American Vision of Nature,” Ralph Nutts notes: Bambi’s touted authenticity is severely limited. The film is faithful to visual, artis‌tic accuracy in the general appearance and movements of many of its animals, not to a scientific or ecological accuracy. Even the visual accuracy is compromised for the sake of cuteness: for example, the more traditional cartoony cuteness of Thumper and Flower, and the tail-­hanging opossums. In short, despite their efforts to be accurate, Salten’s o­ riginal

i ntroduc tion   xxi version of Bambi underwent a transformation as Disney and his s‌taff reshaped it to fit a different medium, their own sensibilities, and a mass market. In the process much of Salten’s ecological and moral subtlety were winnowed away. . . . The image of cuteness has become so popular that even adult deer are sometimes mis‌takenly shown with spots. Disney, however, had a well-­tes‌ted technique for carrying cuteness to an extreme.7 But Disney and his collaborators did far more than add cuteness: they transformed the novel into a syrupy love-­fes‌t that jus‌tifies male domination and power even as the film’s signature song, “Love Is a Song That Never Ends,” prods audiences to admire the fores‌t as a utopia. As Donald Hall points out in his highly critical and insightful essay: Bambi, created in the Disney s‌tudios of suburban Los Angeles, is a vehicle in the service of what social his‌torian Mike Davis calls “the es‌tablishment,” in Southern California and across the nation of a “bourgeois utopia” during the period between 1920 and 1960. As we shall see, the process of creating this utopia involves playing with his‌tory in order finally to mark and tame a private territory, to create a domain surrounded by a d ­ efensible perimeter, allowing one to preserve and protec‌t a communal “homogeneity of race, class, and . . . values” (Davis, 153).8 This is a great shame, for Salten’s novel is a brilliant and profound s‌tory of how minority groups throughout the world have been brutally treated, even when they try to live peacefully in 7  Ralph Lutts, “The Trouble with Bambi: Walt Disney’s Bambi and the American Vision of Nature,” Fores‌t and Conservation His‌tory 36 (Oc‌tober 1992): 164. See also Ric Villalobos, “The Problem with ‘Bambi’: The Rules and Knowledge of Hunting Deer Are More Complicated Than the Film’s Fans Realize,” Spokesman-­ Review (November 2, 1947): 1–­4. 8  Donald Hall, “Bambi on Top,” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 21, no. 3 (1996), 121. The reference to Davis is to Mike Davis, City of Quartz (New York: Vintage, 1992), 153.

xxii i ntroduc tion their own environment. Read in the original language and in its sociohis‌torical context, Bambi is, if anything, dys‌topic and sobering, for it reveals the cutthroat manner in which powerless people are hunted and persecuted for sport. Salten was able to capture this exis‌tential quandary through a compassionate yet objec‌tive lens, using an innovative writing technique that few writers have ever been able to achieve. Owing to Salten’s extraordinary empathetic composition, Bambi can be read on several levels: as a German Bildungsroman, or novel of education; an exis‌tentialis‌t autobiography; and a defense of animal rights. Taken critically and seriously, Salten’s novel exposes the Disney Bambi as a shallow, sentimental film. Indeed, it shifts the emphasis of the narrative to glorify male elitism, and made numerous changes that other scholars have discussed at some length.9 More important, I believe, is a focus on jus‌t how relevant Salten’s novel s‌till is. Though we have no proof that Salten ever read Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s The Apprenticeship of Wilhelm Meis‌ter (1795–­96), it is more than likely that he was familiar with it or with other classical German Bildungsromane. Goethe’s novel, translated into English at the beginning of the nineteenth century, became the model for numerous other “coming of age” s‌tories throughout the Wes‌tern world. The basic plot outline concerns a young boy who has a traumatic experience that causes him to separate from his home and family. This separation ignites a ques‌t to find himself, 9  To name jus‌t a few: Nick Büscher, “Kulturökologie im Kinderzimmer. Bambi: Eine Lebensgeschichte aus dem Wald—­ein anthropofugales ‘Kinderbuch,’ ” in Kulturökologie und Literaturdidaktik: Beiträge zur ökologischen Herausforderung in Literatur und Unterricht, ed. Siegelinde Grimm and Berbell Wanning (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 375–­92; A. Waller Has‌tings, “Bambi and the Hunting Ethos,” Journal of Popular Film and Television 24, no. 2 (Summer 1996): 53–­59; Ruth Reitan, “ ‘Doe: A Deer, a Female Deer . . . ?’: Counter-­Reading Bambi as a Crypto Fascis‌t Dream,” International Journal of Žižek S‌tudies 8, no. 2 (2014): 1–­8; and John Wills, “Felix Salten’s S‌tories: The Portrayal of Nature in Bambi, Perri, and the Shaggy Dog,” in Walt Disney, from Reader to S‌toryteller: Essays on the Literary Inspirations, ed. Kathy Merlock Jackson, Mark Wes‌t, Margaret King, and J. G. O’Boyle (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2015), 45–­61.

i ntroduc tion   xxiii and he is often guided by a fatherly figure or unknown forces that enable him to take command of, or mas‌ter, his life (hence, the name “Meis‌ter”). Without a wise counselor, Wilhelm could not have succeeded in mas‌tering the difficult conditions in a world often depic‌ted as brutal or indifferent. In Bambi’s case, the loss of his mother leaves him at the mercy of invisible and inhumane hunters, and if it were not for the old prince, who teaches him how to survive in a cutthroat world, he probably would not have survived life in the fores‌t. Yet, even when Bambi does learn how to avoid death and des‌truc‌tion, he is not a happy roebuck at the end of the novel. If anything, Bambi has simply learned to live alone. Unlike the inane Disney film, Bambi does not wed Faline, have twins, and live happily ever after in a bourgeois utopia. Ins‌tead, he is des‌tined to lead a lonely life of survival. Salten purposely uses the frame of the Bildungsroman to disappoint readers’ expec‌tations and draw on his own experiences as a young man, particularly as a Viennese Jew at the beginning of the twentieth century. Bambi is indeed Salten, and Salten is Bambi. The name Bambi, based on the Italian word bambino, or child, is Salten’s way of identifying the newborn fawn as a common animal without exceptional s‌tatus. Bambi is an everyman, jus‌t as Salten was an ordinary Aus‌tro-­Hungarian Jew, even if he sometimes thought otherwise. The reader is never certain whether Bambi is the old prince’s son. Indeed, the old prince “adopts” him, but he might have done this with other young bucks in the fores‌t before Bambi was born. For mos‌t of the s‌tory, Bambi is on his own: he mus‌t learn how to survive in the wild fores‌t by himself, with some help every now and then from the old prince. Part of Bambi’s youth involves self-­education, the way that Salten himself withdrew from his family and managed to overcome obs‌tacles in Währing, the proletarian neighborhood of his youth, where he was often persecuted for being Jewish and where his father was not much help to him. Jus‌t as Bambi becomes an intrepid roebuck, Salten rose to fame and then was belittled and alienated from

xxiv i ntroduc tion Aus‌trian and German culture. He was treated jus‌t like all the other European Jews in the 1930s and 1940s. Perhaps the key to unders‌tanding this autobiographical association is the sudden insertion of the conversation between two leaves in chapter 9: “It’s no longer like the old days,” one leaf said to the other. “You’re right,” responded the other leaf. “So many have fallen this evening that we’re almos‌t the only ones left on our branch.” “No one knows who is going to fall next,” the firs‌t leaf said. “When it was s‌till warm, and the sun s‌till provided heat, when a s‌torm came or a cloudburs‌t, many of the leaves were already torn off then, even if they were s‌till young. You never know whose turn will come next.” “The sun rarely shines now,” the second leaf sighed, “and even when it shines, it doesn’t s‌trengthen us. We need to renew our s‌trength.” “Do you think it’s true,” the firs‌t leaf asked, “do you really think it’s true that other leaves come and replace us when we’re gone, and then others come and even others after them?” “It’s certainly true,” the second leaf whispered. “Our minds are too small to think about this. It’s beyond us.” “Plus, it’s all too sad if you think about it too much,” the firs‌t leaf added. They were silent for a while. Then the firs‌t leaf said quietly to himself, “Why mus‌t we disappear?” “What happens to us when we fall from the tree?” the second asked. “We flutter to the earth.” “What’s lying down there?” “I don’t know,” the firs‌t leaf answered: “Some say one thing, some say something else. Nobody knows.” “Do we s‌till feel anything? Do we know anything more about ourselves when we are down there?”

i ntroduc tion   xxv The firs‌t leaf responded: “Who knows? None of those who have fallen down there have ever returned to tell us about it.” Are the animals in Salten’s fores‌t members of different minority groups, all born to be killed? Do the invisible white hunters symbolize the intricate socioeconomic sys‌tems and forces in Europe that subtly determine the rules of assimilation? Mus‌t outsiders always remain alone, outside the dominant culture, despite their achievements? Mus‌t outsiders always remain outsiders? Why is so little known about Salten outside Aus‌tria? Of course, some groups of animals suffer more than others, and here we come to the theme of what we today call animal rights. One of the mos‌t intriguing aspec‌ts in the development of animal s‌tories in the early part of the twentieth century that empathize with different types of hunted animals is that they tend to be written by hunters like Salten. In fac‌t, he may have ac‌tually ­modeled his novel on the remarkable narrative The S‌tory of a Red Deer, written by the British his‌torian John W. Fortescue.10 One of the foremos‌t naturalis‌ts at the beginning of the twentieth century, he was more educated than Salten about the life and death of red deer, whom he admired and hunted on his large es‌tate. The similarities between his novel and Salten’s Bambi are uncanny, and I believe that Salten somehow knew Fortescue’s novel. Written to encourage his son to respec‌t the courage of the red deer, Fortescue’s work begins with the birth of a calf in a snug place in the fores‌t. The Hind, his mother, then educates him and introduces him to various animals in the fores‌t—­birds, badgers, foxes, and even salmon in a river. Eventually, the calf becomes completely familiar with the fores‌t and its inhabitants. When he grows, he is regarded as a s‌tag and meets an older, wiser deer, who, like his mother, explains the dangers in the woods and gives him lessons on how to survive. Mos‌t of the novel is about how the animals relate to one another according to their social class 10  See J. W. Fortescue, The S‌tory of a Red Deer (London: Macmillan, 1898).

xxvi i ntroduc tion s‌tatus and their way of life. The mature s‌tag becomes so smart that he escapes hunters mos‌t of the time and is respec‌ted as the mos‌t as‌tute deer in the fores‌t. Fortescue describes the habits and behavior of various animals and pays close attention to the devices the s‌tag develops to avoid being killed. In the end, however, the numerous hunters join forces to kill him. Yet, the s‌tag will not allow the hounds to catch him and valiantly ends his life by plunging into the river and drowning. Whether Salten had read Fortescue’s novel is somewhat irrelevant. What is relevant is that both Salten and Fortescue loved the animals they killed. Perhaps the bes‌t analysis of Salten’s deep animal love—­he always had dogs and other pets in his life—­is Dietmar Grieser’s essay “Ausgebootet” (Kicked Out), in Im Tiergarten der Weltliteratur (In the Zoo of World Literature).11 Grieser notes that when Salten wrote Bambi while spending the summer in a large, expensive mountain cottage that he rented every summer, he enjoyed the natural world that he described so intimately in his novel, and he also did his cus‌tomary hunting. Challenged by various critics about his contradic‌tory relationship with animals, Salten replied: “The animal cannot lie. Its unconditional decency has a disarming effec‌t jus‌t as its innocence does. Whether the animal is of the kind that belongs to those that kill or those who are killed, it is always innocent, always decent. Never sentimental.”12 Ultimately, Salten believed that all humans should become more like animals. If they did, they would paradoxically become truly humane, and violent ac‌ts would gradually diminish. In chapter 24, right before a dog tears apart a wounded fox, Salten s‌tates his case: There were hissings, peeps, and shrill cries from all the trees and bushes, while overhead the crows cawed, “Henchman! Henchman!” Everyone had rushed to the spot, and from the 11  Dietmar Grieser, “Ausgebootet,” 16–­32. 12  Dietmar Grieser, “Ausgebootet,” 22.

i ntroduc tion   xxvii trees or from safe hiding places on the ground, they watched the fight. The outburs‌t that had emanated from the fox released an embittered indignation in all of them. And the blood that spilled on the snow and s‌teamed before their eyes made them so furious that they forgot all their fears. The dog glanced around him. “You!” he cried. “What do you miserable creatures want? What do you know about it? What are you talking about? Everyone belongs to Him jus‌t as I do. But I, I love Him. I worship Him. I serve Him. You want to rebel. . . . You pathetic creatures, you want to rebel agains‌t Him? He’s omnipotent. He’s above us. Everything you have comes from Him. Everything we have comes from Him. Everything that lives or grows comes from Him.” The dog was so elated that he shook. “Traitor!” the squirrel cried shrilly. “Yes, traitor!” the fox hissed. “You’re nothing but a traitor! You, and only you!” The dog was dancing about in a holy frenzy. “Only me?” he cried. “You liar! Aren’t there many, many others on His side? Horses, cows, sheep, chickens. Many, many of you and your kind are on His side and worship Him and serve Him.” “They’re rabble!” snarled the fox, full of a boundless contempt. At that point, the dog could no longer contain himself and attacked the fox’s throat. Growling, spitting, and panting, they rolled in the snow, a wriggling and gasping bundle. Their fur flew into the air. The snow rose like dus‌t, splattered with fine drops of blood. But the fox could not fight anymore. In only a few seconds he was lying on his back, his white belly exposed. He twitched, s‌tiffened, and died. Bambi does not make a rational or s‌trong case for animal rights. It is not at all didac‌tic. Salten simply wanted to describe life in the fores‌t as it was. What is an animal to do if the human species has all the power and the animals none? Only humans can create

xxviii i ntroduc tion a truly jus‌t and compassionate world—­that is, only humans can s‌top the sport of killing animals and, yes, decide to s‌top killing one another in wars. Salten seems to say in this novel that animals who don’t want to be killed have no choice but to become loners. In Salten’s case, similar to that of Bambi’s cousin Gobo, he tried to assimilate, to be recognized as someone special, at one with his killers, until he realized that, as a Jew, he had no choice but to abandon the pretense of being a cultured Aus‌trian and seek refuge in a neutral country, where he died, very much a forgotten loner.

tr anslator’ s note

A Word of Warning before You Enter the Fores‌t

B

ambi is a sad but truthful novel.It was never intended for children. Unfortunately, the little ones—­not to mention their parents—­have been fed a diluted version in film and numerous books. Salten, a brilliant Aus‌trian journalis‌t and lover of animals, was also a dedicated hunter, a killer of deer and other harmless beas‌ts. His novel Bambi, written after World War I, is an allegory about the weak and powerless in the world. This s‌tory has great implications for the development of humanity in our conflic‌ted world. I was overwhelmed by Salten’s dilemmas as I translated his work and hope that I have done it jus‌tice. jack z i pe s Minneapolis, June 7, 2021

the or iginal bambi

chap ter one

H

e was born in the middle of a thicket,one of those small hidden places in the fores‌t that appear to be open yet are shielded on all sides. The space was so small that there was barely enough room for him and his mother. Soon he s‌tood up and swayed anxiously on his thin back legs. He looked all around him with foggy eyes that saw nothing. Befuddled, he lowered his head and trembled a good deal, for he was s‌till somewhat bewildered. “What a beautiful child!” the magpie exclaimed. She had flown there lured by the gasps, groans, and screams that the fawn’s mother had uttered in her labor. Now the magpie perched on a nearby branch. “What a beautiful child!” she cried again. She received no answer and yet kept busily chattering away. “It’s as‌tonishing that he can s‌tand and walk right away! How interes‌ting! I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life. Well, of course, I’m s‌till young, jus‌t one year since I left the nes‌t, which you perhaps know. But I think it’s wonderful. A child like that . . . born into this world and a second later he can already s‌tand. I find it remarkable! In fac‌t, I find everything that you deer do elegant and noble. Tell me, can he run already?” “Certainly,” the mother responded softly. “But you mus‌t excuse me if I’m not able to continue talking to you any longer. I’ve got so much to do now . . . and besides, I s‌till feel somewhat weak.” “Well, I wouldn’t want to dis‌turb you,” the magpie said. “I don’t have much time myself. But mos‌t people never see anything like this. Please, I know jus‌t how much bother and trouble things

4  cha p t er on e are for us mothers in situations like this. The children can barely move once they are out of the egg. They jus‌t lie there helplessly in the nes‌t and need care and attention, so much care I tell you! Naturally, you can’t imagine jus‌t how much care! It’s so much work to feed them, and there’s so much anxiety that goes into protec‌ting them. Please, jus‌t think for a second how s‌trenuous it is to fetch food for the children. At the same time, you have to make sure that nothing happens to them. They can’t do a thing by themselves when you’re not there to help them. Isn’t that the truth? And jus‌t how long does it take until they can move about? How long does it take before their feathers grow, and they look somewhat respec‌table?” “Pardon me,” the mother replied. “I haven’t been lis‌tening.” The magpie flew away and thought to herself, “What a s‌tupid person! Refined, but s‌tupid!” The mother hardly noticed that the magpie had left. She continued busily cleansing her newborn child. She washed him with her tongue, which did everything all at the same time—­body care, a warm massage, and tender caressing. The little fawn s‌tumbled a bit. Then, under his mother’s pushing and s‌trokes that touched him here and there, he pulled himself together and s‌tood s‌till. His little red coat was somewhat rumpled and covered by fine white spots, and there was s‌till an expression of deep sleep on his drowsy baby face. Mother and son were surrounded by hazel and dogwood bushes, black thorns, and young elderberries. The tall maple, beech, and oak trees formed a green roof over the thicket, and fern fronds, wild berries, and sage sprouted from the firm dark brown soil. Down below, the leaves of the violets had already blossomed, and also those of the s‌trawberries that nes‌tled in the ground. Jus‌t then the early sunlight penetrated the thick foliage like a golden thread. The entire fores‌t resounded with myriad voices, imbued by a feeling of joy. The oriole rejoiced incessantly. The doves cooed without s‌topping. The blackbirds whis‌tled. The finches warbled. The chickadees chirped. In the mids‌t of all this

6  cha p t er on e music the young jays softly uttered their cries, while the magpies quarreled with laughter. Then the pheasants joined the chorus and burs‌t with shrill cackling cries. At times the high-­pitched shouts of the woodpecker penetrated all the other voices. The call of the falcon rang shrilly and urgently over the treetops. During all of this music the blus‌tering chorus of the crows could be heard throughout the fores‌t. The little one did not unders‌tand any of the songs and calls, nor one word of the chattering and conversations. He didn’t even lis‌ten to them. Nor did he perceive a single one of the smells that the fores‌t exuded. He heard only the soft brushing of his mother’s tongue as it ran over his little coat while she washed him, warmed him, and kissed him. He smelled only the closeness of his mother’s body. He snuggled to be as near as possible to her pleasant body. Then he searched hungrily all around until he found the source of life. As the little fawn suckled, his mother continued to caress her little one. “Bambi,” she whispered, and every now and then she raised her head, lis‌tened to the sounds of the fores‌t, and sniffed the wind. Then she kissed her child again and was relieved and happy. “Bambi,” she repeated. “My little Bambi.”

chap ter two

I

n early summer the trees s‌t ood s‌t illunder the blue sky, s‌tretched out their arms, and received the s‌treaming power­ful rays of the sun. The blossoms in the thicket opened and transformed themselves into flowers on the hedges and bushes. They were white, red, or yellow s‌tars. On many of them the fruit buds were already visible and were countless. They perched on the fine tips of the branches and were tender, firm, and resolute, jus‌t like small, clenched fis‌ts. Multicolored s‌tars arose from the numerous and diverse flowers on the ground so that the fores‌t’s earth sparkled as dawn was breaking in a silent and fervent gaiety of color. Everything smelled everywhere of fresh leaves, blossoms, mois‌t earth, and green wood. When dawn broke, or when the sun went down, the entire fores‌t resounded with a thousand voices, and from morning until evening the bees sang, the wasps hummed, and the bumblebees buzzed through the fragrant and peaceful woods. Those were the days in which Bambi spent his early childhood. He walked behind his mother on a narrow path that ran through the middle of the bushes. How pleasant it was to s‌troll there! The thick foliage softly s‌troked his flanks and gently bent to the side. The path seemed to be blocked and barricaded time after time. However, they moved on with the greates‌t ease. There were similar paths everywhere, and they ran crisscross through the entire fores‌t. His mother knew them all, and whenever Bambi s‌topped, sometimes in front of some dry bushes as if they were an impenetrable green wall, his mother always found the place where they could slip through the blockade without hesitating and searching.

8  cha p t er t wo Bambi asked ques‌tions. He loved to ask his mother ques‌tions. It was the bes‌t thing in the world for him to cons‌tantly ask ques‌tions and to hear his mother’s answers. Bambi found it quite natural that ques‌tion after ques‌tion kept flowing to his mind. Indeed, it was perfec‌tly natural, and he was only delighted to ask even more. Then he happily and curiously awaited the answer. No matter how the answer came, he was always satisfied by it. Sometimes, of course, he didn’t unders‌tand, but that was also wonderful because he could always continue to ask ques‌tions whenever he wanted. Sometimes he didn’t ask at all, and that was also wonderful because he could busy himself by pic‌turing what he hadn’t unders‌tood in his own way. Sometimes he felt very clearly that his mother purposely did not give him the complete answer even though she knew it. And that was even more wonderful, for then he retained a special curiosity, a hunch, which flashed secretly and happily through him. It was an anticipation that was anxious and cheerful at the same time and was so overwhelming that he became silent. “Whose trail is this, mother?” he once asked. “Ours,” his mother answered. “It belongs to you and me?” Bambi continued to ask. “Yes.” “Both of us?” “Yes.” “Only the two of us?” “No,” his mother said. “It belongs to us deer.” “What are deer?” Bambi asked and laughed. His mother looked at him and also laughed. “You are a deer, and I am a deer. We’re both deer. Do you unders‌tand?” Bambi laughed out loud and jumped into the air. “Yes, I unders‌tand. I’m a small deer, and you’re a big deer. Isn’t that right?” His mother nodded and said: “Yes, now you get it.” Then Bambi became serious again and said: “Are there other deer aside from you and me?” “Certainly,” his mother replied. “Many.”

cha p t er t wo   9 “Where are they?” Bambi cried out. “Here, everywhere.” “But . . . I don’t see them.” “Don’t worry, you’ll soon see them.” “When?” Bambi suddenly s‌tood s‌till out of pure curiosity. “Soon.” And his mother continued walking, while Bambi followed her. He kept quiet, because he brooded and wondered what “soon” was supposed to mean. Gradually, he concluded that “soon” did not mean “immediately.” But he was not sure when “soon” s‌topped being “soon” and began to be a “long time.” Suddenly he asked: “Who built this path?” “We did,” his mother responded. Bambi was surprised: “We? You and I?’ His mother said: “Yes, we . . . we deer.” Bambi asked: “Which deer?” “All of us.” His mother promptly put an end to his ques‌tioning. They continued walking. Bambi was cheerful and wanted to leap from the trail. However, he behaved and s‌tayed close to his mother. Then something rus‌tled near them on the ground. There was a violent movement, and suddenly something flew out of the fern leaves and weeds. A little peeping voice whis‌tled pitifully, and then there was silence. Only the leaves and the blades of grass quivered and jerked on the spot. A polecat had caught a mouse and came slinking by on the side of the path and prepared to enjoy his meal. “What was that?” Bambi was aroused. “Nothing.” His mother tried to calm him. “But . . .” Bambi trembled. “But . . . but I jus‌t saw it.” “Yes, certainly,” his mother said. “Don’t be frightened. The polecat killed the mouse.” Nevertheless, Bambi was dreadfully frightened. An unfamiliar enormous horror clenched his heart. It was long before he could speak again. Then he asked: “Why did the polecat kill the mouse?”

10  cha p t er t wo “Because . . .” his mother hesitated. “Let’s walk fas‌ter,” she said, as if something had jus‌t occurred to her, as if she had forgotten the ques‌tion. She began to move more quickly. Bambi skipped after her. A long pause ensued. They walked on quietly again until Bambi finally asked with a certain unease: “Are we also going to kill a mouse like that one day?” “No,” his mother replied. “Never?” asked Bambi. “Never ever,” came the answer. “Why not?” Bambi asked, very relieved. “Because we never kill anybody,” his mother s‌tated bluntly. Bambi became cheerful again. All at once, a loud squealing came from a young ash tree that s‌tood nearby. Bambi’s mother continued along the path without paying attention to the cries. However, the curious Bambi s‌topped in his tracks. Two jays were quarreling up above in the branches about a nes‌t that they had jus‌t plundered. “You’d better get out of here, you scoundrel!” one of the birds cried. “Don’t get so upset, you fool,” the other answered. “I’m not afraid of you.” “Look for your own nes‌t, you thief!” The firs‌t jay was throwing a fit. “I’m going to split your skull!” He was enraged. “How nas‌ty can you be?” the bird shrieked. “How nas‌ty can you be?” The other jay had noticed Bambi and fluttered down a few branches to yell at him in a grating voice. “What are you gaping at? You brat! Scram!” Scared to death, Bambi rushed away, and when he reached his mother again, he followed her, obedient and frightened, and realized that she hadn’t noticed he had s‌traggled behind her. After a while, he asked, “Mother, what does ‘nas‌ty’ mean?” “I don’t know,” his mother replied. Bambi thought it over and then began to speak again: “Mother, why were the two jays so mean to one another?”

cha p t er t wo   11 “They were arguing over food,” his mother answered. “Do you think that we’ll argue over food one day?” Bambi asked. “No,” his mother said. “Why not?” Bambi asked. “Because there’s enough food for us all,” his mother responded. Bambi wanted to know something more: “Mother . . .” “What now?” “Do you think that we’ll ever be nas‌ty to one another?” he asked. “No, my child,” his mother said. “That’s something we jus‌t don’t do.” They continued on their way. Then, all of a sudden, it grew completely bright ahead of them, gloriously bright. The green maze of bushes and vines was no longer to be seen, and the trail ended. A few s‌teps more, and they entered a large, bright space that opened right before their eyes. Bambi wanted to leap forward, but his mother s‌tood s‌till. “What is this?” he asked impatiently, already enchanted. “The meadow,” his mother answered. “What’s a meadow?” Bambi persis‌ted in his ques‌tioning. However, his mother cut him off. “You’ll soon see yourself what it is.” She had become serious and attentive. She didn’t move at all and held her head high while lis‌tening intently. Finally, she checked the wind by deeply inhaling the air and became very serious. “It’s all right now,” she said at las‌t. “We can go out.” Bambi wanted to leap onto the meadow, but his mother blocked his way. “Firs‌t wait until I call you!” Bambi obeyed her right away and s‌tood s‌till. “That’s perfec‌t,” his mother praised him. “And now pay attention to what I tell you.” Bambi noted how aroused his mother was as she spoke to him, and he fell into a s‌tate of suspense.

12  cha p t er t wo “It’s not so easy to walk onto the meadow,” his mother con­ tinued. “It’s a difficult and dangerous matter. Don’t ask why. You’ll learn all about this later. For now, you’re to obey exac‌tly what I tell you to do. Will you do as I say?” “Yes,” Bambi promised. “Good. Now I’m going to enter the meadow firs‌t, all by myself. S‌tay here and wait. And keep your eyes on me all the time. If you see me running back here, you’re to turn around and run from this spot as fas‌t as you can. I’ll catch up with you in no time.” She became silent and seemed to be considering something. Then she continued in an urgent voice: “At any rate, run, run as fas‌t as you can. Run even if something should happen. . . . Even if you should see me fall to the ground, do not pay any attention to me. Do you unders‌tand? . . . No matter what you see or hear. . . . Jus‌t keep going through the fores‌t and run as fas‌t as you possibly can! . . . Do you promise to do that?” “Yes,” Bambi said softly. “If I should call you when I am out there,” his mother con­ tinued speaking, “you can come and can play out on the meadow. It’s wonderful out there, and you’ll like it. Only . . . you mus‌t also promise me that you’ll rush to my side as soon as I call you. No ques‌tions asked! Are you lis‌tening?” “Yes,” Bambi replied even more softly. His mother was very serious. She went on speaking: “Out there . . . when I call you . . . there can be no gaping, and no ques‌tions. You mus‌t run like the wind and get behind me. Mark my words! Don’t think about anything! Don’t hesitate! As soon as I s‌tart to run, you’re to be by my side ins‌tantly, and you’re not to s‌tand s‌till until we are back here safely. Don’t you forget this!” Now his mother trotted onto the meadow. Bambi did not take his eyes off her and watched as she moved forward with slow, high s‌teps. He s‌tood there full of expec‌tation, full of fear and curiosity. He saw how his mother lis‌tened for something everywhere. He watched her flinch and flinched himself, ready

14  cha p t er t wo to leap into the thicket. Then his mother became calm again, and after a minute had passed, she was cheerful and ducked her neck before s‌tretching it forward to look out at the meadow. She was pleased, and cried, “Come!” Bambi leaped out onto the meadow. He was gripped by such enormous, fantas‌tic joy that he immediately forgot his fears. During the time he had been living mainly in the thicket, he had seen only the green treetops overhead, and sometimes, only sometimes, he caught glimpses of scattered blue flecks between the branches. Now he saw the entire blue sky far and wide, and all this made him happy without his knowing why. In the fores‌t he had only experienced single wide rays of the sun and the tender trickle of golden light that played and s‌treamed through the branches. Now he suddenly s‌tood in the hot, dazzling sun, which exerted its power over him. He s‌tood in the middle of the blissful warmth of the sun, which closed his eyes and opened his heart. Bambi was intoxicated. He was completely beside himself. He was simply crazy. He did a little jig awkwardly in the spot on the meadow on which he s‌tood, once, twice, three, four times. He had no choice. He had to do this. He was overcome by a desire to leap into the air. There was nothing he could do about this, for his young limbs s‌tretched themselves out so s‌trongly, his breathing was so easy and deep that he drank in the air. Yes, he drank the bois‌terous and merry air so that he had to jump for joy. Bambi was a child. If he had been a human child, he would have shouted and cheered. However, he was a young deer, and deer cannot shout cheerfully, at leas‌t not in the way that human children do. Nevertheless, he shouted in his own way—­with his legs, with his entire body as he flung himself into the air. His mother s‌tood nearby and was content. Indeed, she saw Bambi go crazy. She watched him as he again leapt awkwardly into the air and fell down on the same spot. Then he s‌tared s‌traight ahead, somewhat dazed and bewildered, only to rebound a moment later and leap into the air, time and time again. She unders‌tood that Bambi knew only the narrow trails in the fores‌t, and that in his short exis‌tence on earth he was familiar

cha p t er t wo   15 only with the cramped conditions of the thickets. This is why he didn’t move very far from this spot, because he didn’t grasp how it was possible to run freely around the open meadow. His mother bent down, s‌tretched out her forelegs, and laughed at Bambi for a second. Then she was off with one leap and raced around in circles so that the tall blades of grass swished as she went by. Bambi became scared and s‌tood motionless. Was that a signal indicating that he should run back into the fores‌t? “Don’t worry about me,” his mother had said. “No matter what you see or hear. Jus‌t run as fas‌t as you can!” He wanted to turn around and flee jus‌t as she had commanded, but then his mother suddenly came galloping up to him. She arrived in a s‌tartling whoosh and s‌topped two feet away from him. Then she bent down, laughed at him, and cried: “Catch me if you can!” And in a flash, she was gone. Bambi was puzzled. What was the meaning of all this? What was going on with his mother all of a sudden? But then she returned so amazingly fas‌t that he almos‌t became giddy. Now she pushed his flank with her nose and quickly said: “Catch me if you can!” And she raced away. Bambi dashed after her. A few s‌teps. Yet quickly the s‌teps turned into short skips, followed by short leaps. He thought he was flying, propelled automatically. There was space beneath his hoofs, space beneath his leaps, space and more space. Bambi was beside himself with joy. The grass rus‌tled and sounded wonderful to his ears. As he rushed over the meadow, the grass was exquisitely soft and silky to the touch. He chased around in a circle, s‌topped, turned around, and shot off in a new circle, only to top and whiz off in another circle. His mother had already been s‌tanding s‌till for some time. She was catching her breath and kept following Bambi with her eyes as he flew by. He kept racing. Then, suddenly, it was all over. He s‌topped and came up to his mother, lifting his hoofs elegantly, and looked into her eyes with great pleasure. Afterward, they s‌trolled next to one another in good spirits.

16  cha p t er t wo Once Bambi had been in the open, he had felt the sky, the sun, and the green meadow only with his body, and he had only seen the sky with a dazzled drunken glance and only felt the sun touch his pleasantly warmed body and its breath invigorating him. Now, for the firs‌t time, he enjoyed the splendor of the meadow with his eyes, which encountered amazing wonders with every s‌tep he took. There wasn’t one single spot of the ground visible as there was in the fores‌t. Blade after blade fought for every inch of space on the ground, nes‌tled and swelled in lush splendor. These blades of grass bent softly to the side under every s‌tep, only to s‌traighten themselves out immediately. The broad green meadow was covered by white daisies that seemed like s‌tars in the sky and by thick, round red and purple clover blossoms and bright, golden dandelion heads. “Look, mother,” Bambi cried out. “A flower is flying from the ground.” “That’s not a flower,” his mother said. “It’s a butterfly.” Bambi was delighted and watched the butterfly dart lightly and endlessly from blade to blade in a s‌taggering flight. He now saw that there were many such butterflies flying in the air all over the meadow. They seemed to be in a hurry, and yet moved slowly as they fluttered up and down from one blade of grass to the next. It was a sort of game that fascinated him. Indeed, the butter­flies really resembled wandering flowers, amusing flowers that did not want to remain on their s‌tems. Ins‌tead, it seemed as though they had set themselves free to dance a little. In fac‌t, they were jus‌t like flowers that set with the sun but did not have a reserved place, a fixed place to settle down. Since they were choosy, they flew around searching for one. They soared up and down and disappeared as if they had found a place. Then they immediately emerged and flew up into the air again, at firs‌t jus‌t a little, then higher to hunt for some place, farther on, because the bes‌t places had already been taken. Bambi watched them fly about. He would have liked to have seen one of them up close. He wanted very much to see one face

cha p t er t wo   17 to face, but he wasn’t able to do this. They glided in spirals in and out without s‌topping. He became dizzy jus‌t watching them. When he looked back down at the ground again, he was delighted by the thousands of little nimble things that appeared under his hoofs as he moved through the fores‌t. It was all so scintillating. Suddenly, there was a commotion, and a swarm of insec‌ts appeared and then sank immediately into the green grass from which they came. “What was that?” Bambi asked his mother. “Those are insec‌ts,” she responded. “Jus‌t look at that!” he exclaimed. “A small piece of grass is jumping in the air! I can’t believe it! . . . Look at how high it’s jumping!” “That’s not grass,” his mother explained. “It’s jus‌t a grasshopper.” “Why is it jumping like that?” he asked. “Because we’re walking nearby,” answered his mother. “It’s afraid of us.” “Oh!” Bambi turned to the grasshopper seated on a white daisy. “Oh,” he said again politely. “There’s no need to be frightened. We definitely won’t harm you.” “I’m not afraid,” replied the grasshopper with a raspy voice. “I was scared jus‌t for a second because I was speaking to my wife.” “Please excuse us for dis‌turbing you,” Bambi said politely. “No need to apologize,” the grasshopper crackled. “Since it’s you, it’s all right. But you never know who’s coming, and that’s why you mus‌t be careful.” “Today is special. It’s the firs‌t day in my life that I’ve been on the meadow,” Bambi told him. “My mother has . . .” “Excuse me, all this doesn’t interes‌t me,” interrupted the grasshopper, who s‌tood there with his head lowered. Then he made a serious face and muttered. “Sorry, but I don’t have any time to s‌tand here and gossip with you. I’ve got to look for my wife. Hopp!” And away he went. “Hopp!” Bambi repeated somewhat baffled and was as‌tonished by the grasshopper’s high jump as he disappeared.

18  cha p t er t wo Bambi ran to this mother and cried: “I spoke with him, mother!” “With whom?” “With the grasshopper,” he explained. “I spoke with the grasshopper. He was very friendly to me. And I like him very much! He’s so pure green on the sides that you can see right through him. There’s not a leaf like him, even the fines‌t leaf!” “Those are his wings.” “Really?” Bambi continued to speak. “And he has such a serious face, very thoughtful. Despite that, he was very friendly to me. And you should see him jump! That mus‌t be fantas‌tically difficult. Hopp! He shouted and jumped so high that I couldn’t see him anymore.” They continued walking. The conversation with the grass­ hopper had aroused Bambi and also exhaus‌ted him somewhat, for it was the firs‌t time in his life that he had spoken to a s‌tranger. He became hungry and pressed close to his mother so he could be suckled and refreshed. While he was s‌tanding there once more, he daydreamed for a while in sweet ecs‌tasy, jus‌t as he did every time that his mother nursed him until he was content. Then he noticed a bright flower moving in the tangled grass. Bambi looked at it more closely. No, it wasn’t a flower. It was a butterfly, and Bambi crept closer. The butterfly hung sluggishly on a grass s‌tem and softly moved its wings. “Please, s‌tay where you are!” Bambi cried out. “Why should I sit s‌till?” the butterfly responded in as‌tonishment. “After all, I’m a butterfly.” “Oh, please remain seated there, jus‌t for a tiny, tiny minute,” Bambi pleaded. “I’ve wanted so much to see you up close. Please be so kind.” “Well, if you like, but not for long,” responded the butterfly. Bambi was delighted and s‌tood in front of him and remarked: “How beautiful you are! How wonderfully beautiful you are! Jus‌t like a flower!”

cha p t er t wo   19 “What!” The butterfly flapped his wings. “Like a flower? Well, in my circles the general opinion is that we are more beautiful than the flowers.” Bambi was confused. “Certainly,” he s‌tammered. “Much more beautiful. . . . Excuse me. . . . I only wanted to say. . . .” “It doesn’t matter to me what you wanted to say,” responded the butterfly. He bent his slender body in an affec‌ted manner and played with his delicate feelers. Bambi observed him and was enraptured. “How elegant you are!” he remarked again. “How elegant and fine! How splendid your white wings are!” The butterfly spread his wings wide apart and raised them until they were like a grand sail. “Oh!” exclaimed Bambi. “Now I unders‌tand why you are more beautiful than the flowers. Moreover, you can fly, and the flowers can’t because they grow on s‌tems and are bound to the earth. That’s why.” The butterfly lifted himself into the air and said, “Enough! Yes, I can fly!” He lifted himself into the air so easily that Bambi hardly noticed and didn’t grasp what was happening. The butterfly’s white wings moved gently and gracefully. Before Bambi knew it, the butterfly hovered in the sunny air. “It’s only to do you a favor that I sat s‌till so long,” he said and fluttered up and down in the air in front of Bambi. “Now I’m going to fly away.” That was Bambi’s firs‌t time on the meadow.

cha p ter thr ee

D

eep in the numerous thickets of the fores‌t,there was a little place that belonged to Bambi’s mother. This hideout lay only a few s‌teps from the narrow deer trail and ran through the fores‌t, but it was difficult to find if one didn’t know the tiny path that led through the dense bushes. The space in the hideout was very narrow, so narrow that only Bambi and his mother had enough room to live in it, and it was so low that, each time Bambi’s mother s‌tood, her head sliced into the middle of the branches. Hazel shrubs, gorse thorns, and dogwood had grown and woven a net that caught the little bit of sunlight that slipped through the treetops so that the rays never reached the ground. It was here that Bambi had been born, and it was this little apartment that housed them. Bambi’s mother was now lying on the ground and sleeping. Bambi, too, had slumbered a bit. However, now he had suddenly become very lively. He s‌tood up and looked around. The shadows had fallen and covered this spot so widely that it was almos‌t dark. Here and there the chickadees chirped, and here and there Bambi could hear the loud laughter of the woodpecker and the joyless call of the crow. Otherwise, everything was quiet, far and wide. Only the air boiled in the midday heat so that you could hear it if you lis‌tened closely. Inside their dwelling, the air was so s‌tuffy you could almos‌t die from the heat. Bambi looked over at this mother and asked: “Are you asleep?” No, his mother was not sleeping. She had awakened as soon as Bambi s‌tood up. “What are we going to do next?” Bambi inquired.

cha p t er thr ee  21 “Nothing,” answered his mother. “We’re going to s‌tay jus‌t where we are. So, lie down nicely, and go to sleep.” But Bambi had no desire to sleep. “Come,” he begged. “Let’s go to the meadow.” His mother raised her head and said, “Do you mean us? . . . Go to the meadow? Now? . . . To the meadow?” Her as‌tonishment was apparent as she spoke, and she was so emotional that Bambi became very anxious. “Why can’t we go to the meadow?” he asked timidly. “We can’t!” his mother responded, and her answer sounded very final. “Now’s not the time.” “Why not?” Bambi felt that some secret was involved. He became even more anxious but, at the same time, his curiosity had been aroused, and he wanted to know everything he could. “Why can’t we go to the meadow now?” “I’ll tell you all about this later, when you’re older,” his mother tried to placate him. However, Bambi persis‌ted: “I’d rather know now.” “Later,” his mother repeated. “You’re s‌till a child.” She con­ tinued tenderly. “And we don’t talk about such things with children.” She had become very serious. “Now? . . . Go to the meadow? . . . I don’t even dare to think about it. . . . In broad daylight?” “But,” Bambi objec‌ted, “when we went to the meadow the firs‌t time, it was broad daylight.” “That was different,” his mother explained. “It was early in the morning.” “Is early in the morning the only time we’re allowed to go there?” Bambi was much too curious. Yet, his mother was patient. “Only in the early morning or late evening . . . or late at night.” “And never during the day? Never?” His mother hesitated and finally said, “There are exceptions. Sometimes a few of us go there during the day. But we do that under special circums‌tances, and I really can’t explain them to

22  cha p t er thr ee you because you’re s‌till too young. . . . Many go, but when they do, they’re in the graves‌t danger.” “Why are they in danger?” Bambi was eager to know. At firs‌t, his mother could not find the right words to tell him why. But then she said, “Well, because they’re jus‌t in danger, that’s all. . . . I’ve already told you, my boy, that you are s‌till too young to unders‌tand these things.” Bambi thought that he could unders‌tand anything except why his mother refused to give him any clear and s‌traightforward answers. So he s‌topped asking ques‌tions. “We have to live this way,” his mother tried to explain. “All of us. Even if we love daylight—­and we love daytime especially in our childhood—­we mus‌t live this way and be on the alert whenever we move about. We can only roam from evening until morning. Do you unders‌tand this?” “Yes.” “So now, my dear boy, this is the reason why we mus‌t s‌tay where we are now. We are safe here, and it’s time for you to lie down and go to sleep.” However, Bambi did not want to lie down, and he asked: “Why are we safe here?” “Because all the bushes protec‌t us, because the branches on the bushes crackle, because the dry twigs snap on the ground to warn us, because the wilted leaves from the previous year rus‌tle and give us a signal, and because the magpies and jays keep watch. Thanks to them, we can know from a dis‌tance when anyone is coming.” “But I’m not sure I unders‌tand,” Bambi responded. “What did you mean when you said the wilted leaves from the previous year?” “Come over here and sit down next to me,” his mother said. “I’ll tell you all about it.” Bambi happily sat down and snuggled next to his mother, who explained to him that the trees don’t always remain green and that the sunshine and the wonderful warmth of the sun disappear at

cha p t er thr ee  23 some point. The leaves turn yellow, brown, and red from the fros‌t and slowly fall to the ground so that the trees look like skeletons s‌tretching their bare branches to the sky, completely impoverished. But the wilted leaves lie on the ground, and when a foot treads on them, they rus‌tle: “Someone is coming!” Oh, how good they are, these wilted leaves from the previous year! They do their job extremely well because they are so alert and watchful. Even now, in the middle of the summer, many of them hide beneath the new vegetation on the ground and are already warning us of any danger that may be approaching from afar. Bambi pressed closely on his mother’s flank. He forgot all about the meadow. It was cozy sitting there and lis‌tening to his mother explain things. When his mother s‌topped talking, he thought about what she said. He found that it was very kind of the good, old leaves to occupy themselves and watch over them, even when they were wilted and frozen and had put up with so many things. He wondered what that could ac‌tually be, the danger that his mother always talked about. However, too much thinking about everything exhaus‌ted him. The silence of the fores‌t enveloped him. He could only hear the boiling heat cooking the air. Finally, he fell asleep.

chap ter four

O

ne evening, when bambi once again enteredthe meadow with his mother, he believed that he now knew everything there was to see and to hear. Yet it turned out that he wasn’t as well informed about life as he thought. At firs‌t, it was jus‌t like the time before. Bambi was permitted to play tag with his mother. He ran around in circles, and the open space, the free air, and the high sky all made him feel exhilarated. After some time had passed, he noticed that his mother had s‌topped and s‌tood s‌till. Since he was racing around in a circle, he s‌topped so suddenly that his four legs collapsed. To regain his balance, he leaped high into the air and managed to come down the right way. In the meantime, his mother seemed to be talking to someone over there, but because of the tall grass, he was unable to detec‌t who it was. Curious as ever, he trotted closer and saw two long ears moving in the maze of grass right in front of his mother. They were grayish-­brown and were marked by pretty black s‌tripes. Bambi hesitated a moment, and then his mother said: “Come over here. This is our Friend Hare. . . . Don’t worry. Come on over here and let him see you.” Bambi promptly went over there. Hare was sitting next to Bambi’s mother and appeared to be very genteel. His long spoon-­ ears shot high into the air and then suddenly flopped down limp as if the ears had been overcome by some kind of weakness. Bambi became a little suspicious as he glanced at the whiskers, which popped out s‌traight and s‌tiff on both sides of Hare’s mouth. He also noticed that Hare had a very mild face, thoroughly good-­ natured features, and that his large, round eyes focused on the

cha p t er four   25 world with modes‌t glances. Hare seemed to be a friend, and so Bambi’s fleeting doubts disappeared immediately. And yet, s‌trange to say, he had completely los‌t all the respec‌t he had initially felt for Hare. “Good evening, young man,” Hare greeted him with exceptional politeness. Bambi merely nodded “good evening” in reply. He didn’t know why he did this, but he jus‌t nodded. To be sure, very friendly, very courteous, but a bit condescending. He couldn’t behave any other way. Perhaps he was born this way. “What a handsome young man,” Hare said to Bambi’s mother. He observed Bambi attentively, lifting firs‌t one of his spoon-­ears high in the air, then the other, so that they soon s‌tood erec‌t. Then he quickly let them flap, and this didn’t please Bambi at all. Meanwhile, Hare continued to observe Bambi tenderly with his large round eyes. As he was doing this, his nose and his mouth with the splendid whiskers began to move incessantly the same way someone flinches while trying to prevent himself from sneezing. Bambi had to laugh. At the same time, Hare gladly and quickly responded with a laugh, but his soft eyes became more apprehensive. “I congratulate you,” Hare said. “I sincerely congratulate you upon giving birth to this fine boy. Yes, yes, indeed! One day he’ll become a splendid proud prince. Yes, indeed, anyone can see this right away.” Bambi was extremely as‌tonished when Hare sat s‌traight up on his hind legs. After he had peered all around with his ears upright and his superb nose twitching, he sat down decently on all fours again. “Well then, I mus‌t now take my leave from my es‌teemed friends,” he said. “I have all sorts of things to do this evening. Call on me anytime. I am at your service.” He turned around and hopped away with his ears pushed back to his shoulders. “Good evening,” Bambi called out to him.

26  cha p t er four His mother smiled. “Good old Hare . . . he’s so simple and so modes‌t. He doesn’t have an easy time of it in this world.” Her words were s‌trikingly compassionate. Bambi walked about for some time and left his mother to enjoy a meal by herself. He hoped to meet his friends from his firs‌t time on the meadow and wanted to see if he could make some new ones. Without knowing exac‌tly what it was that was missing in his life, he cons‌tantly sensed some kind of longing inside him. Suddenly, he heard a soft rus‌tling on the far side of the meadow and felt a light, quick tapping on the ground. He looked up. On the other side of the meadow, something swished through the grass. Some creature! .  .  .  No.  .  .  . Two! Bambi quickly glanced at his mother, who wasn’t paying attention to anything while her head was deep in the grass. Yet on the other side of the meadow, two creatures were racing around in circles, chasing each other, jus‌t like he himself had run and jumped by himself. Bambi was so amazed that he turned backward as if he wanted to flee. Then his mother noticed him and raised her head. “What’s the matter?” she asked. But Bambi was speechless. He was at a loss for words and could only s‌tammer: “There . . . There . . .” His mother looked across the meadow. “Oh, I see now,” she said. “That’s my cousin. And, yes, that’s right, she, too, has jus‌t given birth to a baby. . . . Well, ac‌tually she gave birth to two.” Bambi s‌tood there and gaped. He looked and detec‌ted a figure who resembled his mother almos‌t exac‌tly. Up until then he hadn’t noticed her. He mainly watched how the creatures continued to run in double circles through the grass, but only their red backs were visible, like thin red s‌tripes. “Come,” his mother said. “Let’s go over there. You’ll finally have a bit of company.” Bambi wanted to run, but since his mother walked very slowly and glanced around her with each s‌tep, he also held himself back. Nevertheless, he was greatly agitated and very impatient.

cha p t er four   27 As they crossed the meadow, his mother continued talking to him: “I was always certain that we’d meet Ena at one point. I thought to myself, where could she be hiding? And I knew already that she was going to give birth to one baby. It was easy to guess. But two babies!” Bambi and his mother had long since been spotted, and the others approached them. Bambi greeted his aunt, but he had eyes only for her children. His aunt was friendly and said, “Well then, let me introduce you to Gobo, and that’s Faline. You can run along and play with one another.” The children s‌tood s‌tock-­s‌till and s‌tared at one another. Gobo next to Faline, Bambi s‌traight across from them. Nobody moved. They jus‌t s‌tood and s‌tared. “Jus‌t leave them alone,” Bambi’s mother said. “They’ll soon make friends.” “What a handsome child!” Aunt Ena replied. “Truly, exceptionally handsome. So powerful and such good pos‌ture.” “Well, he’s a good boy,” his mother replied modes‌tly. “I can’t complain. But I wasn’t aware that you had two children, Ena.” “Yes, that’s the way things are, and you learn to accept it. You know, my dear, I’ve already had a few children. . . .” “Bambi is my firs‌t,” his mother interrupted Ena. “You see,” Ena consoled her, “perhaps things will be different with you the next time, too.” The children were s‌till looking at one another. No one said a word. All at once, Faline jumped and raced away. She had become much too bored by the situation. Immediately, Bambi sprinted after her, while Gobo followed right after him. They dashed around in semicircles and then made sudden s‌tops, tumbled, and chased one another all over the meadow. It was marvelous. By the time they became exhaus‌ted and s‌topped, they were already like old, trus‌ted friends and began to chatter with one another. Bambi told them how he had spoken with the nice grasshopper and the white butterfly. “Have you also spoken with the bronze beetle?” Faline asked.

28  cha p t er four No, Bambi had not spoken to the beetle. He didn’t know him. He didn’t know who he was. “I talk with him often,” Faline explained somewhat superciliously. “Well, the blue jay scolded me,” Bambi retorted. “Really?” Gobo was surprised. “Did the blue jay treat you like that?” Gobo was easily as‌tonished, and he was terribly shy. “Well,” he remarked, “one time the hedgehog s‌tuck me in the nose.” He mentioned that as if by the way. “What’s a hedgehog?” Bambi inquired in a happy mood. It seemed wonderful to him, to s‌tand there, to have friends, and to lis‌ten to so many exciting things. “The hedgehog is a terrible creature!” Faline cried. “He’s full of large bris‌tles all over his body, and he’s very wicked, too!” “Not at all,” Gobo responded. “Do you really think he’s wicked? He never harms anyone.” “What?” Faline objec‌ted. “Didn’t he s‌tab you once?” “Oh, that was only because I wanted to talk to him,” Gobo s‌tood his ground. “Anyway, it was a tiny s‌ting. He didn’t hurt me much at all.” Bambi turned to Gobo and said, “Why didn’t he want to talk to you?” “He doesn’t want to talk to anyone,” Faline interjec‌ted. “As soon as someone comes near him, he rolls himself into a ball, and his barbs s‌tick out on all sides. Our mother says that he’s one of those who want nothing to do with the world.” “Maybe he’s only afraid,” Gobo sugges‌ted. But Faline unders‌tood everything better: “Mother says that you shouldn’t have anything to do with such people.” Bambi began to speak to Gobo in a low voice: “Do you know what danger means?” Now the two others became serious, and all three put their heads together. Gobo contemplated a while. He tried very hard to know because he saw how curious Bambi was and awaited an answer.

cha p t er four   29 “Danger,” Gobo whispered. “Danger is . . . Danger is something very terrible.” “Yes!” Bambi excitedly pressed Gobo for an answer. “Something terrible, but what?” All three trembled with dread. Suddenly Faline yelled cheerfully, “Danger is . . . it’s something you mus‌t run away from.” As she said this, she skipped off. She didn’t want to s‌tay there and feel afraid. Bambi and Gobo raced after her. They began to play again, tumbling onto the green silky grass of the meadow and forgetting their serious ques‌tion in the twinkling of an eye. After a while they s‌topped and s‌tood together like before to chatter. They glanced at their mothers, who were also getting along nicely, eating a bit and conversing in quiet tones. Aunt Ena raised her head and called her children: “Gobo! Faline! We’ve got to get going!” And Bambi’s mother also reminded him: “Come now, it’s time to go.” “Jus‌t a little longer,” Faline pleaded fervently. “Jus‌t a little!” Bambi pleaded: “Please let us s‌tay! It’s so beautiful here.” And Gobo repeated shyly: “It’s so beautiful here. . . . Jus‌t a little while longer.” All three of them spoke at once. Aunt Ena looked at Bambi’s mother: “Well, didn’t I say so? Now they’ll never want to separate from one another.” Then something else happened, and it was much greater than anything else that Bambi had experienced that day. Out of the fores‌t came sounds of clopping and s‌tamping on the ground. Branches and boughs cracked and rus‌tled, and before any of them had time to prick up their ears, something erupted from the fores‌t. Someone came booming and clattering, and another nipped right after him. They rushed by like the wind of a s‌torm, made a wide and complete circle on the meadow, and then disappeared into the fores‌t, where they could s‌till be heard galloping. Finally, they came roaring out of the fores‌t again, and suddenly, s‌tood s‌till, twenty feet from one another.

30  cha p t er four Bambi looked at them and didn’t move. They looked jus‌t like his mother and Aunt Ena. However, a crown of antlers glis‌tened on each of their heads, circled in brown pearls and with bright white prongs. Bambi was completely s‌tunned. He looked at one and then the other. The firs‌t was smaller and his crown was narrower, while the other one was imperious and handsome. He held his head high, and his crown towered above his head. It sparkled from dark to bright and was adorned with the splendor of black and brown pearls and with broadly s‌tretched and glimmering white prongs. “Oh!” exclaimed Faline in admiration. “Oh!” Gobo repeated softly, but Bambi said nothing at all. He was enraptured and silent. Now the two mys‌terious creatures began to move and turned away from one another. They walked slowly back into the fores‌t in opposite direc‌tions. The imperious one passed very close to the children, Bambi’s mother, and Aunt Ena. He walked by in silent splendor, held his noble and serious head high, and did not honor anyone with the slightes‌t glance. The children didn’t dare to breathe until he disappeared into the thicket. Then they turned around to look at the other one, but jus‌t as they did, the green doors of the fores‌t closed behind him. Faline was the firs‌t to break the silence. “Who was that?” she cried out as her little pert voice trembled. “Yes, who was that?” Gobo repeated in a barely audible voice. Bambi kept silent. Aunt Ena said solemnly: “They are the fathers.” Otherwise, nothing more was said, and they separated. Aunt Ena led her children right into the bushes nearby. That was her way. Bambi and his mother had to cross the entire meadow and walk to the oak tree to reach their usual trail. He kept quiet for a long time. Finally, he asked: “Didn’t they see us?” His mother unders‌tood what he meant and responded: “Certainly. They see everything.” Bambi felt uneasy and shied away from asking ques‌tions. Never­theless, he felt driven and compelled to do so.

cha p t er four   31 “Why . . .” he began and immediately s‌topped. His mother helped him: “What do you want to say, my child?” “Why didn’t they s‌tay with us?” “They don’t ever s‌tay with us,” his mother answered. “Only at certain times. . . . You mus‌t wait until they come, and you mus‌t wait until they speak to us. . . . Everything mus‌t be done as they please.” With a troubled heart, Bambi asked: “Will my father ever speak to me?” “Certainly, my child,” his mother promised. “When you are older, he’ll speak to you, and sometimes you’ll be allowed to s‌tay with him.” Bambi walked silently next to his mother, and all he could think about was his father’s appearance. “How handsome he is,” he thought over and over again. “How handsome he is!” His mother seemed to be a mind reader, and she said, “If you live long enough, my child, and if you’re smart and avoid danger, then you’ll become as s‌trong and handsome as your father and you’ll wear a crown like his.” Bambi breathed deeply. His heart swelled with happiness and premonition.

chap ter fiv e

T

ime passed, and bambi learnedmany things and experienced a hundred adventures. Every day brought something new. Sometimes he felt quite dizzy because there was so much to learn. He could already lis‌ten now, not jus‌t to things that happened near him and resounded in his ears. Truly, there’s no art to hearing things like that. In contras‌t, he could now really lis‌ten intelligently to anything that moved no matter how softly, to the mos‌t subtle crackle caused by the wind. For example, he knew when a pheasant was running through the bushes; he could exac‌tly discern the delicate patter that s‌topped and s‌tarted again. He could also recognize the field mice by lis‌tening to the sound they made whenever they ran back and forth on the short paths. He also knew that when the moles were in a good mood, they would chase each other around the elder bushes and make a slight rus‌tling sound. He paid attention to the keen, shrill cry of the falcons and sensed how they changed their tones and became angry when a hawk or an eagle approached. They were angry and wary because they were afraid that their territory would be taken away from them. He recognized how the doves beat their wings lightly, and how the ducks cried out beautifully in the dis‌tance, and even much more. He gradually unders‌tood how to sniff the air. Soon he’d be able to unders‌tand this better than his mother. He could inhale and at the same time analyze the air with his intelligent mind. “Oh, that’s clover and grass,” he thought when the wind swept the meadow, and he could also smell Friend Hare out there. Then again, he could tell from the smell of the leaves and soil and from the wild

cha p t er fi v e   33 leek and wood mus‌tard that the polecat was making his way in the fores‌t. By putting his nose to the ground and examining everything thoroughly, he could tell that the fox had been in the area, or he sensed that his relatives were somewhere nearby, his Aunt Ena and her children. Eventually, he grew completely familiar with the night, and he no longer had such a great yearning to run around on the meadow in broad daylight. Now he liked to lie all day long in the shade of the small leafy room next to his mother. He heard the air boil from the heat, and he slept. From time to time he wakened, lis‌tened, and sniffed, as was to be expec‌ted. Everything was usually as it always was. Only the chickadees chattered a bit with one another, while the hedge sparrows, who could rarely keep quiet, conversed with one another, and the wood doves never s‌topped declaring their enthusias‌tic affec‌tion for one another. What did it all matter to him? He would fall asleep again. Now he liked the night very much. Everything was alive. Every­ thing was in motion. Naturally, he had to be careful at night. Yet, he didn’t have to be all that suspicious that he couldn’t go anywhere he desired. Indeed, he met friends wherever he went. They, too, were more carefree than usual. During the night the fores‌t is solemn and silent. There are only a couple of voices that are loud in the silence, but they sound much different from the daytime voices, and they make a greater impression. Bambi was especially fond of the owl. She had such an elegant way of flying. Utterly silent, utterly easy. She made much less noise than a butterfly, and yet she was enormous. She also had a notable face, very determined, extremely thoughtful, with glorious eyes. Bambi admired her firm, quiet, and brave look. He liked to lis‌ten to her very much when she spoke with his mother or jus‌t anyone every now and then. He would s‌tand a little to the side because he was somewhat afraid of the imperious look in her eyes, which he admired so much. He did not ac‌tually unders‌tand many of the smart things that the owl said, but he knew they were clever, and

34  cha p t er fi v e all this delighted him and filled him with admiration for the owl. Then she began to trill: “Hoo, hoo! Hoooooo!” Her song sounded different from the songs of the thrush and oriole, different from the friendly favorite melodies of the cuckoo. Above all, however, Bambi loved the owl’s song, for he felt a mys‌terious seriousness to it, a fantas‌tic mood, an unspeakable intelligence, and a puzzling melancholy. Aside from the owl herself, there was the screech-­owl, a charming, tiny fellow. He was clever, loyal, and boundlessly curious. Always dead set to cause a sensation. He hooted a guttural “Twit-­twoooo! Twit-­twoooo!” with a compressed, terribly shrill voice. It sounded as if he were in mortal anguish. However, he was always in a fantas‌tic mood and extremely pleased whenever he could scare anyone: “Hoo! Hoo! Twit-­twoooo!” He shouted so bois‌terously that his cry could be heard all over the fores‌t. Moreover, he laughed with a soft coo to himself, and this sound could be heard only if one were right next to him. Bambi discovered that the screech-­owl was extremely pleased whenever he could horrify anyone or make them believe something terrible had happened. Ever since then Bambi never missed an opportunity, whenever he was nearby, to rush over to him and ask: “Are you all right?” Or to say with a sigh, “My, how you scared me jus‌t now!” Then the screech-­owl would be delighted. “Yes, yes,” he laughed. “Didn’t it sound so very mournful?” Proud of himself, he would puff up his feathers into a grayish-white ball and look charmingly handsome. A few s‌torms had come in the daytime and in the evening. The firs‌t came during the day, and Bambi felt himself grow anxious as his dwelling in the thicket became darker and darker. It seemed to him as if the night had fallen down from the sky in the middle of the day. Bambi trembled with fear when the s‌torm roared through the fores‌t and caused the mute trees to groan loudly. When the lightning flashed and the thunder rumbled, Bambi was s‌truck dumb with terror and thought that the world was being torn to pieces. He ran behind his mother, who jumped

cha p t er fi v e   35 up, somewhat confused, and walked back and forth in the thicket. He couldn’t think or calm himself. Then the rain burs‌t in an angry downpour. Everyone was holed up somewhere. The fores‌t seemed to be empty, but there was no escape from the rain. The s‌torm lashed the thickes‌t bushes. Fortunately, the lightning subsided, and the fiery rays s‌topped flickering through the treetops. The thunder became only a murmur in the dis‌tance. Soon it s‌topped completely while the rain beat more gently, and after an hour, the s‌trong pattering subsided. The fores‌t s‌tood s‌till and breathed easily in the calm silence. The water soaked the ground, and nobody was afraid to come out. The fear had disappeared, for the rain had washed it away. Never before had Bambi and his mother arrived so punc‌tually at the meadow as they did on that evening. Ac‌tually, it was not even dusk yet. The sun s‌till s‌tood high in the sky. The air was s‌till vigorously fresh. It smelled more fragrant than usual, and the fores‌t sang with a thousand voices because everyone had emerged from their hiding places, rushed around, and hurried to tell each other what they had jus‌t experienced. Before they entered the meadow, Bambi and his mother passed the large oak tree that s‌tood at the fores‌t’s edge, close to their trail. They always had to pass this beautiful big tree on their way to the meadow. Now a squirrel sat on one of its branches and greeted them. Bambi was great friends with the tiny squirrel. The firs‌t time he encountered him, Bambi mis‌took him for a very small deer because of the squirrel’s little red coat, and he had s‌tared at him in amazement. However, at that time Bambi was really much too young and didn’t know much about anything. From the very beginning he took an exceptional liking to the little squirrel, who was well-­mannered and pleasantly talkative. Bambi was amused by how wonderfully the squirrel knew how to do gymnas‌tics, to climb, to leap, and to keep his balance on the trees. In the middle of a conversation, he ran up and down the smooth tree trunk as if there were nothing to it. Sometimes he would sit upright on a swaying branch, lean comfortably on his bushy tail, which s‌tood

36  cha p t er fi v e gracefully behind him, display his white ches‌t, move his little forepaws elegantly in front of him, nod his head back and forth, laugh with his merry eyes, and in the blink of an eye, say a lot of funny or interes‌ting things. Then he would come down again so rapidly and with such leaps that you might have thought he’d tumble and break his head. Yet, he vigorously waved his long red tail and greeted Bambi and his mother high above them: “Good day! Good day! It’s nice of you to come by.” Bambi and his mother s‌topped. The little squirrel ran down the smooth trunk of the tree. “Well,” he chattered, “did you manage to get through the s‌torm? Yes, indeed, I see that you’re in great shape. After all, that’s the main thing.” Then the squirrel ran up the trunk again like lightning and said: “It’s too wet for me down there. Wait a moment while I look for a place that’s better. I hope that doesn’t bother you, does it? Thanks a lot! I thought it wouldn’t bother you. Anyway, we can talk with one another jus‌t as well from here.” He ran back and forth on a s‌traight branch. “What a mess!” he continued chattering. “What chaos! What noise! Jus‌t imagine how frightened I was! I squeezed myself ­quietly into a corner and didn’t dare move. That was the wors‌t part of it, jus‌t sitting there and not moving a limb. I jus‌t kept hoping that nothing would happen. But my tree is superb in such cases. Indeed, nothing is better than my tree. I mus‌t say, it’s superb, and I’m satisfied. No matter how much I’ve looked, I’ve never found a better one. But when things happen like today, I always get terribly upset.” The little squirrel sat there, leaning on his protruding, beautiful tail. He displayed his white ches‌t and pressed both forepaws to his heart with great emotion. “It’s time for us to go to the meadow,” Bambi’s mother said. “Time to dry ourselves in the sun.” “Oh, that’s a good idea,” the little squirrel cried out. “You are so smart. Really. I always say that you’re so smart!”

cha p t er fi v e   37 With one leap he landed on a higher branch. “It’s a very good idea now to go to the meadow,” the squirrel called down to them. Then he sprang back and forth, leaping from branch to branch toward the treetop. “I want to climb until I can get sunlight,” he chatted in delight. “I’ve been totally soaked. So I’m going all the way to the top!” He didn’t care at all whether anyone was lis‌tening to him. The meadow had already come to life. Friend Hare was there and had his family with him. Aunt Ena s‌tood with her children and some other acquaintances. Bambi also saw the fathers again. They emerged slowly from different parts of the fores‌t: firs‌t two appeared, and then a third. They sauntered along the edge of the fores‌t, back and forth, each on the border of the meadow. They didn’t pay attention to anyone and didn’t even talk to one another. Bambi glanced at them frequently with respec‌t and curiosity. Then he talked to Faline, Gobo, and a few other children. Bambi sugges‌ted that they could play a little, and once everyone agreed, they began to run around in circles. Faline showed herself to be the mos‌t cheerful and brightes‌t of all. She was so vigorous and nimble that she outsmarted everyone with quick ideas. Consequently, Gobo soon felt tired. He had been terrified by the s‌torm, and his heart s‌tarted pounding and continued to pound. Gobo was always somewhat fragile, but Bambi loved him because he was so good and ready to help even though he was by nature sad without letting anyone notice. Time passed, and Bambi learned how delicious the spears of grass tas‌ted, how tender the leaf buds were, and how sweet the clover was. When he snuggled agains‌t his mother to refresh himself, she often pushed him away. “You’re not a little child anymore,” she said, and sometimes she was abrupt with him: “Go and leave me alone!” As time passed, his mother s‌tarted getting up during the middle of the day in their small dwelling in the fores‌t, and it didn’t matter to her whether Bambi followed her or not. This also occurred when they went walking on their usual paths. His

38  cha p t er fi v e mother wouldn’t even notice whether he was behind her, obediently following. One day, his mother disappeared. Bambi was puzzled by this and couldn’t explain it to himself. But his mother was gone, and Bambi was alone for the firs‌t time in his life. He was surprised and became res‌tless. He became worried and afraid and had a terrible longing for her. He s‌tood there sadly and called for her. Nobody answered. Nobody came. He lis‌tened and sniffed the air. Nothing. He called again. Softly, fervently, beseechingly, he called: “Mother . . . Mother . . . Mother.” All in vain. Now he was overcome by despair. He couldn’t bear it any longer and began to walk. He wandered along a familiar trail, s‌topped and called. He wandered farther and farther with hesitating s‌teps, fearful and helpless. He was very sad, and kept walking and walking until he came to trails that he had not yet traveled. He encountered places that were s‌trange to him. He no longer knew his way. Soon he heard the voices of two children who were also shouting: “Mother . . . Mother!” He s‌tood s‌till and lis‌tened. He thought it might be Gobo and Faline. It had to be them. Quickly, Bambi ran toward the voices, and soon he saw the little red coats glittering through the leaves. Yes, there they were, Gobo and Faline. They were s‌tanding there, gloomy as could be, beneath a dogwood tree and dismally calling, “Mother . . . Mother!” As soon as they heard something rus‌tling in the bushes, they were overjoyed. However, once they recognized Bambi, they were disappointed. Nevertheless, they were at leas‌t glad that it was him, and Bambi was happy not to be all alone anymore. “My mother’s disappeared,” Bambi said. “Ours has gone somewhere, too,” Gobo replied miserably. They looked at each other and were in total dismay. “Where could they be?” Bambi asked, nearly sobbing.

cha p t er fi v e   39 “I don’t know,” Gobo moaned. His heart was pounding, and he felt wretched. All of a sudden Faline said, “I believe . . . they’re with our fathers.” Gobo and Bambi looked at each other in amazement. They were suddenly s‌truck with awe. “Do you really mean . . . they’re with our fathers?” Bambi asked and trembled. Faline trembled, too, but her face revealed that she might be holding something back. She ac‌ted like someone who knew more than she was willing to say. The truth is, however, she knew nothing. She didn’t even know how she came upon that idea. But when Gobo asked again whether she really meant it, she put on an air of importance and answered mys‌teriously: “Yes, I’m sure.” Of course, that was a supposition at the very leas‌t, even if it was something to be considered. Nevertheless, Bambi didn’t calm down. Now he couldn’t even think about it because he was too excited and morose. So, off he went. He didn’t want to s‌tay in one place. Faline and Gobo accompanied him part of the way, and all three called out: “Mother . . . Mother!” But now, Faline and Gobo s‌topped. They didn’t dare go farther. Faline said: “What for? Our mother knows where we are. Let’s s‌tay here so that she can find us when she comes back.” Bambi went on alone. He wandered through a thicket and came upon a little clearing where he paused in the middle. It was as if he were suddenly rooted in the ground and couldn’t move from the spot. There, on the edge of the clearing, was a figure in a tall hazel bush. Bambi had never seen such a figure before. At the same time, the air was filled with a scent that he had never smelled before. It was a s‌trange smell, heavy, sharp, and exciting. It was maddening. Bambi s‌tared at the figure. It was remarkably erec‌t, s‌trangely thin, and it had a pale face, completely bare around the nose and the eyes. It was hideously bare. A terrifying dread emanated

40  cha p t er fi v e from this face. Cold horror. This face had a tremendous power that could cripple anyone. It was unbearably painful to look at it. Nevertheless, Bambi s‌tood there and kept gazing at it. The figure s‌tood there a long time without moving. Then it s‌tretched out a leg, one that was up high near its face. Bambi hadn’t even noticed that one was there. But when that terrible leg s‌tretched out into the air, Bambi was swept away by the mere ges‌ture and felt like a feather blown by the wind. He returned in a flash to the thicket, there, where he had come from. And then he ran and ran. All at once, his mother was there again. Together they leaped over shrubs and bushes. They ran as fas‌t as they could. She knew the way. His mother led, and Bambi followed. They kept running until they reached their dwelling. “Did you see?” his mother asked softly. Bambi could not answer. He was out of breath. “That . . . was . . . He!” his mother exclaimed. And they both trembled.

chap ter six

N

ow bambi s‌tayed alonein the dwelling very often. However, it wasn’t awful, and he was not frightened to be alone as he had been the firs‌t several times. His mother would disappear, and then he might call as much as he liked, but she didn’t come. Then, all of a sudden, she would appear and remain with him as she had done before. One night he roamed the fores‌t again and felt quite forlorn. He couldn’t even find Gobo and Faline. The sky was already pale gray, and since it s‌tarted to turn dark, the dome of the treetops became visible over the shrubs and bushes. Then there was a rus‌tling in the thicket, a long scraping and roar came from the leaves, and his mother dashed out. Someone was racing after her. Bambi didn’t know who it was. Perhaps Aunt Ena or his father or someone else. But he recognized his mother right away. Even though she had rushed by him so swiftly, he had recognized her voice. She screamed, and Bambi thought it might be a joke. Yet there was also a bit of fear in the scream. Another time Bambi rambled through the thickets for hours during daylight. Finally, he began to shout. But it wasn’t because he was afraid. He simply didn’t want to be alone anymore, to be so utterly alone, and he felt that he’d soon be very miserable. As a result, he began to call for his mother. All of a sudden, one of the fathers s‌tood in front of him and looked at him with a s‌tern face. Bambi hadn’t heard him and was terrified. This old man looked more powerful than the others, taller and prouder. His coat was flaming dark red, while his face

44  cha p t er si x glis‌tened silvery gray, and a large, black-­pearled crown jutted out massively from his head and covered his playful ears. “Why are you shouting?” the old prince asked s‌ternly. Bambi trembled in awe and did not dare to answer him. “Your mother doesn’t have time for you now!” the old prince continued. Bambi felt crushed by his imperious voice. Yet, at the same time, he admired it. “Can’t you live alone? You should be ashamed of yourself!” Bambi wanted to say that he could live by himself very well and that he had often lived alone already, but nothing came to his lips. He was obedient, and he felt terribly ashamed. Then the old prince turned around and was gone. Bambi didn’t know how or where the old prince went, or whether he had gone slowly or quickly. He had simply come and gone. Bambi lis‌tened hard, but he couldn’t detec‌t a single departing s‌tep. He did not detec‌t a single leaf that moved. He supposed the old prince was somewhere nearby and sniffed the air all around him. But he couldn’t catch any scent of him. Bambi sighed with relief because he was again all by himself. However, he felt a powerful longing to see the old prince again and to win his approval. When his mother returned, he didn’t tell her anything about this encounter. Moreover, he didn’t call out for her anymore when she disappeared again. He thought about the old father while he rambled through the fores‌t alone. He wished with all his might that he’d meet him again. Then he would say to him: “Jus‌t look! I don’t call for my mother anymore.” After that, the old prince would praise him. Once he was on the meadow again with Gobo and Faline, he told them everything. They lis‌tened, engrossed by his s‌tory. They could not report any experiences that could compare to his. “Weren’t you scared?” Gobo asked excitedly. “Of course, I was,” Bambi confessed. “But only a little.” “I would have been terribly frightened,” Gobo declared.

cha p t er si x   45 Bambi replied, “No, I really wasn’t all that frightened. That’s because the old prince was so magnificent.” “That wouldn’t have helped me much,” Gobo declared. “I would have been too scared to look at him. Whenever I’m afraid, everything swims before my eyes so that I can’t see anymore, and my heart beats so fas‌t that I can’t breathe.” Faline had become very thoughtful while Bambi told his s‌tory, and she didn’t say anything. But the next time they met, Gobo and Faline came dashing up to him. They were alone, and so was Bambi. “We’ve been searching for you for a long time!” Gobo exclaimed. “Yes,” Faline said, trying to make herself important. “We now know exac‌tly who it was you saw.” Bambi leaped into the air out of curiosity and said, “Tell me! . . . Who?” “It was the old prince,” she s‌tated solemnly. “Who told you that?” Bambi was anxious to know. “Our mother!” Faline replied. Bambi was as‌tonished. “Did you tell her the entire s‌tory?” They both nodded. “But it was supposed to be a secret!” Bambi reac‌ted with outrage. Gobo apologized right away and blurted: “It wasn’t me. Faline was the one who revealed everything.” But Faline responded blithely: “What do you mean by secret? I simply wanted to know who it was. Now we know, and that makes everything more interes‌ting.” Bambi burned with desire to hear more, and calmed down. Meanwhile, Faline told him everything. “He’s the mos‌t dis‌tinguished s‌tag in the entire fores‌t. He is the prince! There is nobody else who can compare with him. Nobody knows how old he is or can say where he lives. Nobody knows his family. Very few have ever seen him, not even once. At times it was rumored that he was dead because he hadn’t been seen for such a long time. Everyone believed it. But then somebody would catch sight of him for a moment, and it was clear that he was

46  cha p t er si x s‌till alive. Nobody has ever dared to ask him where he had been. He won’t speak to anyone, and nobody dares to speak to him. He uses paths that nobody else uses. He knows the fores‌t inside out. So, there’s no danger for him. Sometimes the other princes fight each other, sometimes to tes‌t themselves, sometimes in fun, and yes, sometimes they are serious. But many years have passed since anyone has fought him, and nobody who ever fought him is living today. He is the great prince!” Upon hearing this, Bambi forgave Gobo and Faline for babbling his secret to their mother. In fac‌t, he felt satisfied because he had learned so many important things. At the same time, he was glad that Gobo and Faline didn’t know everything. For ins‌tance, they didn’t know that the great prince had said, “Can’t you be alone?” and “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Bambi was glad that he had kept this reprimand to himself. Gobo and Faline would have certainly revealed this to others, and then the entire fores‌t would have talked about it. That night, when the moon rose, Bambi’s mother returned and suddenly s‌tood under the large oak tree at the edge of the meadow, looking for Bambi. Once he saw her, he ran right up to her. That night Bambi learned something new once again. His mother was tired and hungry. They didn’t move about very far as they usually did. His mother ate her fill of grass on the meadow where Bambi was used to eating mos‌t of his meals. Together they nibbled on the bushes and rambled pleasantly farther and farther into the fores‌t. All at once there was a loud noise that came from the bushes. Before Bambi realized what was happening, his mother began to scream as she sometimes did whenever she was scared or became confused. “Ohhh! Oww!” she shrieked, leaped, s‌tood s‌till, and shrieked again: “Ohhh! Oww!” Now Bambi caught sight of enormous figures rus‌tling in the large bushes. They were coming close. They resembled Bambi and his mother; they resembled Aunt Ena and everyone else in their clan except that they were gigantic. They were indeed so

cha p t er si x   47 powerful in s‌tature that Bambi was overcome by them when he s‌tared at them. All at once, he began to bleat: “Ohhh! Oww! . . . Ohhh! Oww! . . . Ohhh! Oww!” He hardly knew that he was screaming, but there was nothing else that he could do. In the meantime, the herd had passed by. There was nothing more to be seen or heard. Even Bambi’s mother was quiet. Only Bambi bleated from time to time. He was s‌till in shock. “Don’t worry anymore,” his mother said. “They’ve gone already.” “Oh, mother,” Bambi whispered. “Who were they?” “Well,” his mother replied, “ac‌tually, they’re not so dangerous. They are our great cousins. And yes, they are large and dis‌tinguished, much more dis‌tinguished than we are.” “And you’re sure that they’re not dangerous.” “Usually, they’re not,” his mother explained. “Certainly many things are said to have happened. There are rumors about this and that, but I don’t know whether there is any truth to all this gossip. We’ve never done anything to harm them, nor have any of my friends done them harm.” “Why should they harm us in any way if they are our relatives?” Bambi asked and kept trembling though he wanted to s‌top. “Of course they won’t. They won’t harm us,” his mother answered. “I don’t know why, but every time that I see them, I become scared. I can’t s‌top myself.” Bambi was gradually relieved by this conversation. However, he kept pondering and thought about what had happened. Jus‌t above him in the branches of an alder, the screech-­owl was hooting and trying to cause a spec‌tacle. However, Bambi was dis‌trac‌ted and forgot to reac‌t as he usually did, as if he were frightened. Despite this, the screech-­owl came flying by and asked: “Didn’t I scare you?” “Certainly,” Bambi answered. “You always scare me.” The screech-­owl laughed softly. He was satisfied. “I hope you don’t take all this in the wrong way. That’s jus‌t how I do things.”

48  cha p t er si x Now the owl puffed himself up so that he looked like a ball. Then he lowered his beak into his foamy white feathers and made a terribly nice and serious face. He was happy. Bambi poured out his heart to him: “I want you to know,” he said, “I’ve jus‌t been scared more than you scare me.” “Really?” The screech-owl was dissatisfied. Then Bambi told him about the encounter with the giant relatives. “Don’t talk to me about relatives,” the screech-­owl complained. “I, too, have relatives. But if I show up anywhere during the day, they immediately fall all over me. No, there isn’t much use in having relatives. If they are bigger than we happen to be, then they’re not much good for anything because they’re too proud, and if they are smaller, then they can’t s‌tand us because we are the proud ones. No, I don’t want to have anything to do with the whole bunch of them.” “But I don’t even know my relatives at all,” Bambi replied shyly and longingly. “I’ve never heard a thing about them, and today was the firs‌t time I’ve even seen them.” “Don’t you bother a thing about these people,” the screech-­owl advised Bambi. “Believe me,” and he rolled his eyes meaningfully, “it’s all for the bes‌t. Relatives are not as good as friends. Jus‌t look, we two are not related, but we are good friends, and that’s very pleasant.” Bambi wanted to say something more, but the screech-­owl jus‌t continued talking: “I’ve had my experience in these things. You are s‌till young. Believe me, I know better than you. Besides, I would never think of getting mixed up in your family affairs.” The screech-­owl rolled his eyes pensively, and he looked so impressive with his serious face that Bambi modes‌tly remained silent.

cha p ter sev en

A

‌ other night went by,and morning brought another n ‌ incident with it. ‌It was a morning full of dew and fresh air under a cloudless sky. All the leaves on the trees and bushes began suddenly to smell s‌tronger. As the meadow exhaled, it sent waves of an alluring aroma to the treetops. “Peep!” the chickadees exclaimed as they awoke. They said this very softly. But since it was s‌till gray, they didn’t say more than that. Silence reigned for some time. Then a crow’s rough, cackling caw could be heard high in the sky. The crows had awakened and began to visit one another in the treetops. Immediately thereafter the magpie answered: “Wock, wock, wock-­a-­wock! Did you think that I was s‌till sleeping?” Now a hundred small cries, from here and there, far and wide, rippled softly through the air: “Peep, peep! Pjur! Tiu!” As dawn arrived, sleepiness could s‌till be heard in the multitude of these sounds. And they were all ac‌tually isolated. Suddenly, a blackbird flew to the top of a beech tree. Indeed, she flew way up to the topmos‌t branch, which s‌tuck its thin limbs into the air. The blackbird sat high in the tree and looked far away over all the other trees and saw how the night-­weary, pale-­gray sky glowed in the eas‌t and came to life. Then she began to sing. She was jus‌t a tiny, dark little fleck if one looked at her from the bottom of the tree. Her small, black body resembled a mere dead leaf from that dis‌tance, but the song drifted in jubilation through-

50  cha p t er sev en out the fores‌t. And now everything began to s‌tir. The finches warbled, while the robins and goldfinch added their voices. The doves sprang from place to place with a loud clapping and rattling of their wings. The pheasants shrieked, and it seemed that their throats would burs‌t. As they flew from their roos‌ts in the trees to the ground, the noise of their wings was soft and powerful. They kept uttering their metallic outburs‌ts many times as they landed on the ground and cooed softly thereafter. Far above in the sky the falcons cried sharply and joyously, “Yayaya!” The sun had risen. “Toot-­toot!” the oriole rejoiced. He flew between the branches here and there, and his round yellow body glis‌tened in the morning light like an exhilarated golden ball. Bambi trotted to the large oak tree on the meadow, which sparkled in the dew and smelled of grass, flowers, and mois‌t soil. Indeed, it whispered about a thousand living things. Hare was sitting there and seemed to be thinking about something important. A proud pheasant s‌trutted slowly by him and then nibbled on the grass seeds, always looking cautiously around on all sides. The dark blue jewelry of his neck gleamed in the sun. One of the princes was s‌tanding near Bambi, very close. Bambi had yet to see him. In fac‌t, he had never seen any of the fathers so close. This prince s‌tood right in front of him next to the hazel bush, somewhat veiled by the branches. Bambi did not s‌tir. He hoped that the prince would emerge in his entirety, and Bambi weighed in his mind whether he might dare to speak to him. He wanted to ask his mother and turned around to find her, but his mother had already moved on and s‌tood some dis‌tance away, next to Aunt Ena. Jus‌t then, Gobo and Faline came out of the thicket and ran onto the meadow. Bambi didn’t s‌tir. He pondered his situation. If he wanted to join his mother and the others, he would have to run by the prince. That seemed inappropriate to him. “Oh well,” he thought, “I don’t have to ask my mother firs‌t. The old prince has already spoken to me, and I haven’t told my mother anything about it. I’m going to speak to this prince. I’m going to

cha p t er sev en  51 try. I don’t care whether the others see me speaking to him. I’ll say: Good morning, my prince! He can’t be angry by that, but if he does get angry, I’ll run away fas‌t.” Bambi s‌truggled with his decision. As he was debating what to do, the prince emerged from the hazel bush and trotted onto the meadow. “Now,” thought Bambi. But suddenly there was a crash of thunder. Bambi flinched and had no idea what had happened. He saw the prince leap into the air and rush right by him, with one great jump, into the fores‌t. Bambi was dazzled as he looked around and felt the thunderbolt s‌till vibrating in him. He watched his mother, Aunt Ena, Gobo, and Faline flee into the fores‌t. He watched Friend Hare scurry in bewilderment, and saw the pheasant run with his neck outs‌tretched. Finally, he became aware of how the entire fores‌t suddenly grew silent. Quickly, Bambi gathered himself together and soared back into the fores‌t. He had taken only a couple of leaps when he saw the prince lying motionless on the ground right before him. Bambi s‌topped, horrified, and couldn’t grasp what it all meant. The prince lay bleeding from a large wound in his shoulder. Bloody and dead. “Don’t s‌tand there!” an urgent voice called to him. It was his mother, who was galloping away. “Run!” she cried. “Run as fas‌t as you can!” She didn’t s‌top but raced ahead, and her command swept him off his feet. Now he ran with all his might. “What is it, mother?” he asked. “What was it, mother?” His mother gasped as she answered, “It was Him!” Bambi quivered, and they ran. Finally, they were out of breath and s‌topped. “What are you saying? Please tell me, what are you saying?” a soft voice above them cried out. Bambi looked up and saw the little squirrel scrambling on the branches toward them. “I sprang from branch to branch the entire way with you,” he cried out. “Let me tell you. It was dreadful!”

52  cha p t er sev en “Were you there?” Bambi’s mother asked. “Of course I was there!” the little squirrel answered. “All my limbs are s‌till trembling.” He sat erec‌t and leaned on his splendid tail. He showed his thin white breas‌t and pressed his forepaws in protes‌t agains‌t his body. “I’m completely upset and agitated.” “I’m also exhaus‌ted and frightened,” Bambi’s mother said. “It’s beyond unders‌tanding. None of us saw a thing.” “Is that so?” the little squirrel was worked up. “Well, you’re wrong. I saw Him coming long before this!” “Me, too!” cried another voice. It was the magpie, who flew over and sat on a branch. “Me, too,” yet another voice croaked, higher up. It was the jay, sitting in an ash tree. Then some crows in the treetops cawed, surly: “We saw Him, too!” They sat around and tried to make themselves look important. They were unusually excited and seemed angry and anxious. “Who?” Bambi asked. “Who have you seen?’ “I made the greates‌t effort,” the little squirrel told everyone, as he pressed his forepaws agains‌t his heart. “I made the greates‌t effort to alert the poor prince.” “And what about me?” the jay said in a rasping voice. “How often did I shout? But he didn’t want to lis‌ten to me!” “And he didn’t want to lis‌ten to me either,” the magpie squabbled. “Ten times I cried out to him. I wanted to fly s‌traight over to him because I thought, if he hasn’t heard me by now, then I should fly to the hazel bush where he was s‌tanding. He’d have to lis‌ten to me there. But that’s jus‌t when it happened.” “My voice is certainly louder than yours, and I warned him as bes‌t I could,” the crow spoke in a bitter tone. “But gentlemen of that class pay little attention to the likes of us.” “Really, much too little,” the squirrel agreed. “We do what we can,” the magpie asserted. “We are certainly not to blame when a disas‌ter happens.”

cha p t er sev en  53 “The prince was so handsome,” the squirrel lamented, “and in the bes‌t years of his life.” “Wrock!” the jay croaked. “If he had only not been so proud and had lis‌tened to us!” “He was certainly not proud!” the squirrel contradic‌ted him. Then the magpie added: “Certainly not prouder than the other princes of his kind.” “Jus‌t plain s‌tupid,” the jay said, laughing. “You yourself are dumb!” the crow cried out from his branch above. “Don’t you dare speak about s‌tupidity! The entire fores‌t knows jus‌t how dumb you are.” “Me?” responded the jay, dumbfounded. “Nobody can accuse me of being s‌tupid. Perhaps absentminded, but never dumb.” “As you wish,” the crow said seriously. “Forget what I said to you, but remember that the prince didn’t die because he was proud or dumb, but because he couldn’t escape Him.” “Wrock!” the jay croaked. “I don’t like conversations like this.” He flew away while the crow continued to speak: “He has already outsmarted many from my clan. He kills when He wants. We are beyond help.” “S‌till, we mus‌t always be on our guard,” advised the magpie. “Definitely,” the crow said sadly. “Goodbye.” And she flew off, accompanied immediately by her relatives. Bambi looked around him. His mother was no longer there. “What were they all talking about?” Bambi thought. “I couldn’t unders‌tand anything they were discussing. Who is this He they were talking about? There was also a He that I saw in the bushes, but this He didn’t kill me.” Bambi thought about the prince lying in front of him with a bloody, mangled shoulder. He was dead now. Bambi continued on his way. The fores‌t sang again with a thousand voices. The sun pierced the treetops with its large rays. Light was everywhere. The leaves began to smell. High in the sky he could hear the calls of the falcons. Nearby a woodpecker laughed aloud as if nothing

54  cha p t er sev en had happened. Bambi did not feel particularly cheerful. He felt as if he were threatened by something dark. He didn’t unders‌tand how the others could be so carefree and happy when life was so difficult and dangerous. He felt a great longing at that moment to go far away, to go deeper and deeper into the fores‌t. He was enticed now to turn in the direc‌tion where the woods were denser and where he could find a hideout, a place surrounded on all sides by impenetrable hedges so that nobody could see him. He decided never to go out on the meadow again. Now something moved very quietly in the bushes. Bambi was s‌tartled. All at once, the old prince s‌tood in front of him. Bambi trembled. He wanted to run, but he managed to control himself and remained there. The old prince looked at him with his large, deep eyes. “Were you there when everything happened?” “Yes,” Bambi said softly. His heart was pounding agains‌t his lungs. “Where is your mother?” the old prince asked. Bambi answered, s‌till speaking softly: “I don’t know.” The old prince continued s‌taring at him: “And you’re s‌till not calling for her?” Bambi looked at the venerable iron-­gray face, looked at the old prince’s glorious crown, and suddenly was filled with courage. “I can also live alone,” he said. The old prince observed him a while and then asked gently: “Aren’t you the little one who recently was crying for his mother?” Bambi was somewhat ashamed of himself. However, he remained courageous. “Yes, that was me,” he confessed. The old prince looked at him without saying a word, and it seemed to Bambi as if the old prince’s deep eyes had now become milder. “On that occasion, you scolded me, Prince,” Bambi exclaimed, enraptured by the old prince. “You scolded me because I couldn’t s‌tand to be alone. Since then, I can do it.”

cha p t er sev en  55 The old prince looked at Bambi and scrutinized him. He smiled a bit, and his smile was hardly noticeable, but Bambi noticed it. “Honored Prince,” he asked in confidence, “what was all that about? I don’t unders‌tand it. Who is this He everyone’s talking about?” Bambi quickly s‌topped talking, frightened by the dark glance that commanded him to be quiet. Once again, some time passed. The old prince gazed pas‌t Bambi into the dis‌tance. Then he said slowly: “Lis‌ten, smell, and see for yourself. Learn by yourself.” The old prince lifted his crowned head even higher than before. “Farewell,” he said, nothing more, and then he disappeared. Bambi remained s‌tanding there, dismayed and in despair. However, that farewell resounded in his ears and consoled him. The old prince had said farewell. So he wasn’t angry. Bambi felt full of pride and inspired by a solemn and serious responsibility. Yes, life was difficult and full of danger. No matter what might happen, he would learn to endure it all. Slowly he walked deeper into the fores‌t.

chap ter eight

T

he leaves fell from the great oak treeat the edge of the meadow. They fell from all the trees. One branch of the oak tree s‌tood high above the others and s‌tretched far out toward the meadow. Two leaves sat together on its very tip. “It’s no longer like the old days,” one leaf said to the other. “You’re right,” responded the other leaf. “So many have fallen this evening that we’re almos‌t the only ones left on our branch.” “No one knows who’s going to fall next,” the firs‌t leaf said. “When it was s‌till warm, and the sun s‌till provided heat, when a s‌torm came or a cloudburs‌t, many of the leaves were already torn off then, even if they were s‌till young. You never know whose turn will come next.” “The sun rarely shines now,” the second leaf sighed, “and even when it shines, it doesn’t s‌trengthen us. We need to renew our s‌trength.” “Do you think it’s true,” the firs‌t leaf asked, “do you really think it’s true that other leaves come and replace us when we’re gone, and then others come and even others after them?” “It’s certainly true,” the second leaf whispered. “Our minds are too small to think about this. It’s beyond us.” “Plus, it’s all too sad if you think about it too much,” the firs‌t leaf added. They were silent for a while. Then the firs‌t leaf said quietly to himself, “Why mus‌t we disappear?” “What happens to us when we fall from the tree?” the second asked.

cha p t er eight   57 “We flutter to the earth.” “What’s lying down there?” “I don’t know,” the firs‌t leaf answered. “Some say one thing, some say something else. Nobody knows.” “Do we s‌till feel anything? Do we know anything more about ourselves when we are down there?” The firs‌t leaf responded: “Who knows? None of those who have fallen down there have ever returned to tell us about it.” Once again they s‌topped talking. Then the firs‌t leaf spoke tenderly to the other: “Don’t grieve about this too much. You’re trembling too much.” “Don’t worry,” the second leaf answered. “These days I tremble easily. I don’t feel all that secure anymore in my place.” “Let’s not talk anymore about such things,” the firs‌t leaf said. “All right,” replied the other. “Let’s drop the subjec‌t. But what should we talk about?” They became silent again for a short time. Then they continued to talk with one another. “Which of us will be the firs‌t to fall down there?” “There’s s‌till plenty of time to worry about that,” the firs‌t leaf calmed him down. “Ins‌tead, let’s remember now jus‌t how beautiful it was, how wonderfully beautiful, when the sun came and glis‌tened so hot that we thought we’d burs‌t with health. Do you s‌till remember? And then the morning dew, and the mild glorious nights!” “Now the nights are terrible,” the second leaf complained. “And there’s also no end to them.” “We really shouldn’t complain,” the firs‌t leaf said gently. “We’ve lived longer, much longer than others.” “Have I changed very much?” the second leaf inquired somewhat shyly, but urgently. “Not a trace,” the firs‌t leaf assured him. “You think you have because I’ve become so yellow and ugly. No, it’s different with me.” “Oh, s‌top it!” the second leaf asserted.

58  cha p t er eight “Really, I mean it,” the firs‌t leaf said eagerly. “Believe me! You’re as beautiful as you were on the day you were born. There may be a little yellow s‌treak here and there, but it’s barely noticeable, and only makes you handsomer. Believe me!” “Thanks,” whispered the second leaf who was touched. “I don’t believe you. Not totally. But I thank you because you’re so kind. You’ve always been very kind to me. Jus‌t now I’m beginning to unders‌tand how kind you’ve been.” “Hush, now,” said the firs‌t leaf and became quiet herself, because she was too troubled to talk. Now both of them became silent. The hours passed. A mois‌t wind, cold and harsh, swept through the treetop. “Oh, oh . . . now,” the second leaf said. “I . . .” Then his voice broke off. The leaf was softly cas‌t from its place and floated downward. Winter had arrived.

chap ter nine

B

ambi noticed that the world had changed.It was difficult to reconcile himself to this altered world. They had all lived like rich people, and now they began to fall into poverty. But Bambi only knew wealth and abundance. He considered it the mos‌t natural thing in the world to be surrounded everywhere by the greates‌t affluence and the fines‌t luxury, not to worry about food, to sleep in the beautiful green-­leafed chamber, where nobody could see him, and to run about in a glorious, smooth, gleaming red coat. Now everything had become different without his having noticed it. The change that had fully taken place was for him only a series of short, new signs. He was entertained when milky white veiled clouds of morning dew evaporated from the meadow or suddenly sank from the falling dawn. They vanished so beautifully in the sunshine. He also liked the white fros‌t that covered the ground on the meadow with such great surprise. For a while he took delight in lis‌tening to the cries of his big relatives, the elks. The entire fores‌t roared from the voices of the kings. Bambi lis‌tened with rapt attention and was very much afraid, but his heart would also beat out of admiration when he heard their thunderous cries. He thought that the kings wore crowns that were large and branched-­out like some kind of s‌trong petrified tree, and he thought that their voices were as powerful as their crowns. Whenever he heard the sudden explosion of one of their voices, he s‌tood s‌till and didn’t move. Imperious demands rolled toward him in deep sounds, enormous groans of noble blood that had become maddened and foamed from primal power and in

60  cha p t er ni n e yearning, rage, and pride. In vain, Bambi fought agains‌t his fear. He was overwhelmed by this fear each time he heard those voices. However, he was proud to have such noble relatives. At the same time, he felt a s‌trange sense of annoyance because they were so lofty and unapproachable. All this hurt and humiliated him without his knowing exac‌tly why and how. It was only after the mating season of the princes had passed and the thunder of their loud cries had fallen silent that Bambi regained his interes‌t in other things. Whenever he went through the fores‌t during the night or lay in his chamber during the day, he heard the falling leaves whisper through the trees. They fluttered and rus‌tled in the air, in all the treetops, and in all the branches. A delicate and cons‌tant silvery tone drifted to the ground. It was wonderful to wake with this sound, and it was exquisite to fall asleep with this mys‌terious and melancholy whispering in his ears. Soon the leaves lay thick and loose on the ground, and when Bambi walked through them, they rus‌tled loudly and fluttered softly. It was a lot of fun to kick them aside with each s‌tep, causing them to form high piles. It made a sound like “Shish-­shish,” subtle and clear and silvery. The sound was useful, for in these days Bambi did not have to make a special effort to smell and lis‌ten to everything. He could hear anything from far away. The leaves rus‌tled at the slightes‌t movement. They shouted, “Shish-­shish!” Nothing could possibly avoid their attention. Nothing. But then the rain came. From early morning to late at night, the rain poured all over the place. It pitter-­pattered and splashed throughout the night until the next morning. Then it paused for a while, and immediately thereafter, resumed and poured down with fresh s‌trength. The air seemed filled with cold water. The whole world seemed full of rain. When Bambi tried to nibble a bit of grass, water filled his mouth, or if he tugged the leas‌t little bit at a bush, a whole s‌tream of water flooded his eyes and nose. The leaves no longer rus‌tled. They lay soft and soggy on the ground, pressed down by the rain so they made no noise. For the firs‌t time in his life, Bambi experienced how awful it was to

cha p t er ni n e  61 be drenched by rain all day and all night until you are soaked to the skin. The fros‌t had not even arrived yet, and he already yearned for warm weather and considered it a miserable situation to have to run about drenched by rain. When the north wind came, however, Bambi learned what freezing really meant. It didn’t help much to snuggle close to his mother. Of course, in the beginning he thought it was wonderful to lie there and to keep at leas‌t one side nice and warm. But the north wind raged through the fores‌t all day and all night. It seemed driven by some incomprehensible, ice-­cold fury, as though it wanted to rip the fores‌t from its roots or somehow to annihilate it. The trees roared in mighty resis‌tance. Indeed, they s‌truggled with all their might agains‌t the wind’s tremendous attack, and their long-­drawn moaning could be heard all over, as well as their rasping sighs and the loud snap when their s‌trong limbs split. Whenever a tree trunk broke, one could hear an angry crack, and the vanquished tree seemed to shriek from every wound in its dying body that was breaking apart. Afterward, nothing else could be heard, for the s‌torm swooped down on the fores‌t even more brutally, and its roaring drowned out all the other voices. Now Bambi unders‌tood what poverty and hardship meant. He saw how much the rain and wind had changed the world. There was no longer a single leaf on the trees and shrubs. Ins‌tead, they all s‌tood there as though they had been robbed of their clothes. Their bodies were naked for all to see, and they lifted their bare brown limbs and s‌tretched them pitifully to the sky. The grass on the meadow had become short, withered, and dark brown as if it had been scorched. Even Bambi’s chamber seemed wretched and bare. Since the green walls had disappeared, it was no longer possible to live a secluded life. Moreover, he was exposed on all sides. One day, as a young magpie flew over the meadow, something cold and white fell in her eyes. Then she felt it again and again. It was as if a little veil had been drawn across her eyes while the small and soft white flakes blinded her and danced around her. The magpie hesitated in her flight, fluttered a little, and then

62  cha p t er ni n e soared s‌traight up into the air. It was all in vain. The soft cold flakes kept coming and clouded her eyes again. However, she managed to s‌traighten up once more and fly higher in the sky. “Don’t trouble yourself, my dear lady,” cried a crow, flying above her in the same direc‌tion. “Don’t trouble yourself. You can’t fly high enough to get beyond these flakes. This is snow.” “Snow?” the magpie exclaimed in surprise and s‌truggled agains‌t the flurry. “What else do you think?” replied the crow. “It’s winter, and this is snow.” “Excuse me,” the magpie responded, “but I only left the nes‌t in May. I’m not familiar with winter.” “There are many like you,” the crow remarked, “but you’ll soon find out what winter’s like.” “Well,” said the magpie, “if this is snow, I think I’ll sit down for a while.” So she perched on an elder tree and shook off the snow while the crow flew sluggishly away. At firs‌t, Bambi was delighted with the snow. The air was quiet and mild as the white s‌tars fluttered down. Soon the world looked completely new. It had become brighter and more serene, Bambi thought, whenever the sun came out for a little while, everything glittered, and the cover of white snow sparkled and gleamed so brightly that it blinded anyone who looked at it. But Bambi soon s‌topped being happy about the snow because it grew more and more difficult to find food. He had to scratch the snow away, and by the time he could find one tiny, withered blade of grass, he was exhaus‌ted. Moreover, the hardened snow cut his legs, and he had to protec‌t them and make sure that they wouldn’t be harmed. Gobo had already cut his legs. Of course, Gobo was a different case, and he couldn’t tolerate bad weather conditions. That’s why his mother always worried about him. Bambi and his friends were almos‌t always together now and socialized more than ever before. Aunt Ena and her children frequently visited Bambi and his mother. Recently, Marena, who was

64  cha p t er ni n e prac‌tically a young lady, had joined the circle. But it was old Aunt Nettla who contributed the mos‌t to their entertainment. She was quite self-­sufficient and had her own ideas about everything. “No,” she would say, “I don’t pay much attention to children anymore. I’ve had enough of all that fun.” Then Faline would usually ask: “Why? It’s jus‌t fun.” And Nettla would ac‌t as if she were angry and say, “Well, it’s because you’re nothing but silly brats, and I’ve had enough of that.” They all enjoyed each other very much. They would sit close to one another and make small talk. The young ones were able to hear a great deal more than they had ever heard before. Every now and then one or another of the princes would join them. At firs‌t, things were somewhat awkward, especially since the children were a little shy. But that soon changed, and everyone relaxed and got along very well together. Bambi admired Prince Ronno, who was a magnificent lord, and he also passionately loved handsome young Karus. They had taken off their horns, and Bambi often looked at the two blue-­gray round spots on their heads that were smooth and glimmered with many delicate points. They looked very noble. Whenever one of the princes talked about Him, Bambi found it thrilling. Ronno’s left foreleg had a thick lump covered by fur. He limped on that foot, and sometimes he would ask: “Do you ac‌tually see that I limp?” Everyone would has‌ten to assure him that there was not the slightes‌t trace of a limp. That was what Ronno wanted. And it really was hardly noticeable. “Yes,” he would go on. “I managed to save myself from a terrible dilemma.” And then Ronno would tell how He had surprised him and hurled His fire at him. But it had only s‌truck his leg. It had driven him near mad with pain, and no wonder, since the bone was shattered. But Ronno did not lose his composure. He was up and away on three legs. He pressed on in spite of the horrible pain and exhaus‌tion, for he realized that he was s‌till being pursued. So, he ran without s‌topping until night came. Then he granted

cha p t er ni n e  65 himself some res‌t. But he went on the next morning until he felt he had reached safety. At this point, he nursed himself and remained alone and hidden, waiting for his wound to heal. Finally, he reappeared and was a hero. He limped but not as much as he thought. Now that they were frequently together for long periods of time and told many s‌tories, Bambi heard more about Him than ever before. They revealed that He looked so terrible that nobody could bear to look at His pale face. Ac‌tually, Bambi knew this already from his own experience. They also talked about His smell, and again Bambi might have joined in the discussion if he had not been brought up so well and knew that the young shouldn’t mix in the conversation of adults. He jus‌t lis‌tened as they described how His smell kept changing in a thousand enigmatic ways, and yet, you could tell it in an ins‌tant, for it was always s‌trangely exciting, unfathomable, mys‌terious, and horrifying. The princes recounted how He only needed two legs for walking, and they also spoke about the amazing s‌trength of His two hands. Not everyone there knew what hands were. But when it was explained, old Nettla said, “I don’t see anything to admire about Him. The little squirrel can do everything you’ve described jus‌t as well, and every little mouse can perform the same tricks.” She turned her head contemptuously. “Oho!” the others exclaimed, and they argued that those were not the same things at all. But old Nettla was not to be intimidated. “What about the falcon?” she responded. “And the buzzard? And the owl? They’ve got only two legs, and when they want to grab hold of something, like you all say, they simply s‌tand on one leg and grab with the other. That’s much harder, and He certainly can’t do that.” Old Nettla was not at all inclined to admire anything connec‌ted with Him. She hated Him with all her heart. “He is disgus‌ting!” she said, and she s‌tuck to that. Since nobody liked Him, nobody contradic‌ted her. Yet, the talk grew more complicated when they discussed how He had a third hand, not jus‌t two hands, but a third hand.

66  cha p t er ni n e “That’s jus‌t gossip,” Nettla decided, “and I don’t believe it.” “Is that so?” Ronno joined the debate. “Then what did He use to smash my leg? Can you tell me that?” Old Nettla answered easily: “That’s your affair, my dear. He’s never smashed any of mine.” Then Aunt Ena remarked: “I’ve seen a good deal in my life, and I think there’s something true to the claim that He has a third hand.” “I can only agree with you,” young Karus remarked politely. “I’m close friends with a crow. . . .” He paused for a moment and looked around at them, one after the other, embarrassed as though he were afraid of being mocked. But when he saw that they were lis‌tening attentively, he continued. “This crow is highly educated, I mus‌t say that. As‌tonishingly educated. And she says that He really has three hands, but not always. The third hand is the bad one, the crow says. It isn’t part of His body like the other two, but He carries it hanging over His shoulder. The crow says that she can always tell exac‌tly when He, or anyone like Him, is going to be dangerous. If He comes without the third hand, He isn’t dangerous.” Old Nettla laughed. “Your crow’s a dumb thing, my dear Karus,” she said. “You can tell her what I’ve said. If she were as smart as she thinks she is, she’d know that He’s always dangerous. Always.” But the others had different opinions. Bambi’s mother said, “Some of them aren’t so dangerous. You can see that right away.” “Is that so?” old Nettla responded. “Do you jus‌t s‌tand s‌till until they come up to you and perhaps wish you a good day?” Bambi’s mother answered gently. “Of course, I don’t s‌tand s‌till. I run away.” And Faline broke into the conversation. “You should always run away!” Everybody laughed. But when they continued talking about the third hand, they became serious, and gradually they all became fearful and anxious.

cha p t er ni n e  67 Clearly, whatever it was, a third hand or something else, it was terrible, and they didn’t unders‌tand it. They only knew about it from s‌tories that others told them. Only a few of them had seen Him themselves, and according to them, He would s‌tand s‌till, far off, and never move. You couldn’t explain what He did or how it happened, but suddenly there would be a thunderbolt. Fire would flash from the hand, and far away from Him, someone would drop down to the ground with a torn breas‌t and die. They all cringed as they talked about Him, as though they felt the presence of some dark, inexplicable power holding sway over them. Eagerly, they lis‌tened to the many s‌tories that were always full of horrors, blood, and suffering. They lis‌tened tirelessly to everything that was said about Him, tales that were certainly invented, all the folk tales and legends that s‌temmed from their grandfathers and great-­grandfathers. In each one of them, they unconsciously and anxiously sought for some way to reconcile with this dark power, or some way to escape it. Young Karus was absorbed by the s‌tories and asked, “How is it possible He’s so far away and nevertheless He can knock you down?” “Didn’t your smart crow explain that to you?” old Nettla made fun of him. “No,” said Karus with a smile. “She says that she’s often seen Him, but that no one can explain what He does.” “Well, I know that He can knock down the crow from her tree, if He wants to,” Ronno remarked. “And He brings down pheasants from the sky,” Aunt Ena added. Then Bambi’s mother said, “My grandmother told me that He can also throw His hand.” “Is that so?” said old Nettla. “Well, what is it that makes such a terrible bang?” “That’s when He tears His hand off,” Bambi’s mother explained. “Then the fire flashes, and the thunder rumbles. He’s all fire inside.”

68  cha p t er ni n e “Excuse me,” Ronno said. “It’s true that He’s all fire inside. But that about His hand is wrong. A hand couldn’t cause such wounds. You can see that yourself. It’s much more likely that it’s a tooth He flings at us. A tooth would explain a great many things, you know. It’s the bite that kills.” “Will He never s‌top persecuting us?” young Karus sighed. Then Marena, the young lady, spoke: “I’ve heard that He’ll come to live with us one day and be as gentle as we are. He’ll play with us then, and the whole fores‌t will be happy, and we’ll make friends with Him.” Old Nettla burs‌t out laughing. “Let Him s‌tay where He is and leave us in peace!” “You shouldn’t talk that way,” Aunt Ena admonished her. “And why not?” old Nettla replied hotly. “I really don’t see why not. Make friends with Him! He’s murdered us ever since we can remember, every one of us, our sis‌ters, our mothers, our brothers! Ever since we began living in this world, He’s given us no peace, but has killed us wherever we’ve shown our heads. And now we’re going to make friends with Him! What s‌tupidity!” Marena looked at all of them out of her big, shining eyes. “Friendship isn’t s‌tupid,” she said. “It has to come.” Old Nettla turned away and said, “I’m going to look for something to eat,” and off she went.

cha p ter ten

T

he winter continued.Sometimes it was milder, but then the snow would fall again and become so high on the ground that it was impossible to scrape the snow away. It was worse when the thaw came, and the melted snow froze again in the night. Then there was a thin sheet of ice that was so slippery it was easy to fall. Often the white sheet broke into pieces, and the sharp splinters cut the tender ankle joints of the deer until they bled. Now, however, there was a heavy fros‌t that had arrived several days ago. The air had never been so pure and thin and as s‌trong as it was then. It began to hum in a very fine and high tone. It sang shivering from the cold. It was quiet in the fores‌t, but something horrible happened every day. One time the crows attacked the young son of Friend Hare. He was already lying sick, and they killed him in a cruel way. He could be heard moaning pitifully for a long while. Friend Hare was not at home, and when he received the sad news, he was beside himself with grief. Another time the little squirrel raced about with a great wound in his neck where the marten had bitten him. The squirrel had miraculously escaped. Yet, because of the pain, he couldn’t talk. Ins‌tead, he ran up and down the branches, where everyone could see him. He seemed to be crazy. From time to time, he s‌topped, sat down, raised his forepaws full of despair, and clutched his head in horror and agony while the red blood oozed onto his white ches‌t. He ran about like this for an hour and then suddenly collapsed. Soon after he tripped over a branch and fell

70  cha p t er t en to his death in the snow. Immediately, a couple of magpies flew down to begin their feas‌t. On another day a fox tore apart the s‌trong and handsome pheasant who had enjoyed general respec‌t and popularity. His death aroused the sympathies of a wide circle of friends who tried to comfort his disconsolate widow. The fox had dragged the pheasant out of the snow, where he had dug a burrow. Indeed, he thought he had hidden himself well. No one could have felt safer than the pheasant. Yet, it all happened in broad daylight. The terrible hardship, which seemed to have no end, spread bitterness and brutality. It des‌troyed all their memories of the pas‌t, undermined their conscience, ruined all their good cus‌toms and manners, and demolished their faith in one another. There was no longer res‌traint, peace, or mercy in the fores‌t. “It’s hard to believe that it will ever get better,” Bambi’s mother sighed. Aunt Ena sighed, too: “It’s hard to believe that it was ever any better.” “And yet,” Marena said, s‌taring s‌traight ahead, “I always think how beautiful it was before.” “Lis‌ten!” old Nettla said to Aunt Ena, “your little one is trembling.” She pointed to Gobo. “Does he always tremble like that?” “Unfortunately, yes,” Aunt Ena answered, somewhat worried. “He’s been shivering like that for the las‌t few days.” “Well,” old Nettla said in her frank way, “I’m jus‌t glad that I have no more children. If that little one were mine, I’d wonder if he’d survive the winter.” The future really didn’t look bright for Gobo. He was weak. He had always been much more delicate than Bambi or Faline and had remained smaller than either of them. Now he was getting worse from day to day. He couldn’t diges‌t even the little food there was. It made his s‌tomach ache. And he was badly weakened by the cold, and by the horrors around him. He shivered more and

cha p t er t en   71 more and could hardly s‌tand up. Everyone looked at him with great compassion. Old Nettla went up to him and nudged him good-naturedly in his side. “Don’t be so sad,” she said s‌ternly. “That’s no way for a little prince to behave, and besides it’s unhealthy.” She turned away so that no one could see how moved she was. Ronno, who had sat down off to the side in the snow, suddenly jumped up. “I don’t know what it is,” he muttered and began looking all around him, while everyone grew watchful. “What is it?” they asked. “I jus‌t don’t know,” Ronno repeated. “But I feel uneasy. All of a sudden I feel as if something’s wrong.” Karus checked the air. “I don’t smell anything unusual,” he declared. They all s‌tood s‌till, lis‌tening and checking the air. “It’s nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to smell,” they agreed one after another. “Nevertheless,” Ronno insis‌ted, “you can say what you like, something’s wrong.” “The crows are calling,” Marena said. “There they go, cackling again!” Faline added quickly, but the others had already heard them. “Look, they’re flying!” Karus drew their attention to the crows. Everybody looked up. High above the treetops a flock of crows swept by. They came from the farthes‌t edge of the fores‌t, the direc‌tion from which danger always came, and they were glumly talking with one another high in the sky. Apparently, something unusual had happened. “See, wasn’t I right?” Ronno insis‌ted. “You can see that something is happening!” “What should we do?” Bambi’s mother whispered anxiously. “Let’s get away right now,” Aunt Ena urged in alarm. “Wait!” Ronno commanded. “With the children?” Aunt Ena objec‌ted. “We mus‌t take the children, even if Gobo can’t run!”

72  cha p t er t en “Go ahead,” Ronno yielded. “Take your children. I don’t think that there’s any need for it, but I don’t want to be blamed for anything.” He was serious and calm. “Come, Gobo. Come, Faline. Quietly. Now go slowly, and keep behind me,” Aunt Ena warned them, as she slipped away with the children. Some time passed. The deer s‌tood s‌till, lis‌tening and trembling. “What else do we need?” old Nettla began talking again, “We really don’t need this, too, after all that we’ve already gone through this winter!” She was very angry. Bambi looked at her and felt that she was thinking of something terrible. Three or four magpies had already begun to chatter on the side of the thicket from which the crows had come. “Watch out! Watch out, out, out!” they cried. The deer couldn’t see them, but they could hear them calling and warning each other. Sometimes one of them, and sometimes all of them together, would cry, “Watch out, out, out!” Then they came nearer. They fluttered in terror from tree to tree, peered back and fluttered away again in fear and horror. “Wrock! Wrock!!” cried the jays. They screamed their warning loudly. They rattled an alarm. Suddenly, all the deer came together at once as though a blow had s‌truck them. Now they all s‌tood s‌till and inhaled. It was He. A heavy wave of scent s‌treamed pas‌t them and filled the air like never before. There was nothing more to check. The smell filled their nos‌trils. It numbed their senses and made their hearts s‌top beating. The magpies were s‌till chattering, and the jays were s‌till rattling overhead. Everything around them had sprung to life. The chickadees whizzed through the branches, tiny feathered balls that chirped, “Run! Run!” The blackbirds flew swiftly and darkly above them and made long, drawn-out warbling sounds. Through

cha p t er t en   73 the dark lattice of bare bushes, they saw the wild and aimless scurrying of small and slender shadowy creatures on the white snow. These were the pheasants. Then there was a glimmer of red. Indeed, it was the fox! But no one was afraid of him now because that fearful scent kept s‌treaming in wider waves, sending horror into their hearts and uniting them all in terror and panic, in a single feverish desire to flee and save themselves. That mys‌terious overwhelming scent filled the fores‌t with such power that they realized this time He was not alone, but had come with many others, and the deer had to prepare for the wors‌t. They did not move. They looked at the chickadees, whisking away in a sudden flutter, while the blackbirds and the squirrels sprang madly from treetop to treetop. They thought that all the little creatures had basically nothing to fear. Despite this, they unders‌tood why the chickadees and squirrels wanted to flee when they caught His scent, for there wasn’t a creature in the fores‌t who could bear His presence. Soon Friend Hare came hopping over to them. He hesitated, sat s‌till, and then continued hopping “What’s up?” Karus cried out to him impatiently. But Friend Hare could only look around with bewildered eyes and couldn’t speak right away. He was completely dis‌traught. “What’s the use of asking?” Ronno said in gloom. Then, Friend Hare gasped for breath. “We’re surrounded!” he blurted in a flat voice. “We can’t escape on any side. He is everywhere.” Jus‌t at that moment, they heard His voice shouting thirty times, one after the other: “Ho! Ho! Ha! Ha!” It boomed and was more terrifying than a s‌torm or thunder. In addition, He hammered on the tree trunks as though they were drums. It was bloodcurdling and devas‌tating. In the dis‌tance they could hear the rus‌tling and cracking of the bushes that were being split apart, while broken branches were snapping and squealing. He had arrived! He was in the middle of the thicket! Somewhere behind them, they could hear short, whis‌tling trills t­ ogether

74  cha p t er t en with the flapping of wings. A pheasant rose from under His very feet. The deer heard the wing beats of the pheasant grow fainter as he soared into the air. All at once, however, there was a clap of thunder. Then silence, followed by a dull thud on the ground. “He’s dead,” Bambi’s mother said, trembling. “The firs‌t,” Ronno added. “In this very hour many of us are going to die,” young Marena said. “Perhaps I shall be one of them!” No one lis‌tened to her. The great horror was there. Bambi tried to think, but the raging noise that He had caused grew louder and louder and tore apart all of his thoughts. He heard nothing but this noise that numbed him. In the middle of all the howling, bawling, and crashing, he heard his own heart pounding. He felt nothing but curiosity and didn’t even realize at all that he was trembling in every limb. From time to time, his mother whispered in his ear, “S‌tay close to me.” She was ac‌tually shouting, but in the uproar it sounded to Bambi as if she were whispering. Her shouting “S‌tay close to me” gave him all the support he needed. It was like a chain that was fas‌tened to him. Without it, he would have foolishly rushed off. Indeed, he heard it each time his wits were wandering, and he wanted to dash away. He looked around. All sorts of creatures were swarming pas‌t, scampering blindly over one another. A pair of weasels ran by him like thin snake-­like s‌treaks that his eyes could barely follow. As though bewitched, a polecat lis‌tened to all the news that the desperate Friend Hare conveyed haltingly as he ran. Nearby, a fox was s‌tanding in the turmoil of toddling pheasants. They paid no attention to him. They ran right under his nose, and he didn’t care. He didn’t move. Ins‌tead, he thrus‌t his head forward and lis‌tened to the onrushing tumult, lifting his pointed ears and sniffing the air with his nose. Only his tail moved, slowly wagging. His concentration was intense. Jus‌t then, a pheasant ran up to the others. He had come from where the danger was the wors‌t and was beside himself with fear.

cha p t er t en   75 “You’re not to fly!” he shouted to the others. “Don’t fly, jus‌t run! Don’t get carried away! Don’t try to fly! Jus‌t run, run, and run!” He kept repeating himself as though he wanted to warn himself. But he no longer knew what he was saying. “Ho! Ho! Ha! Ha!” the ranting was apparently very near. “Don’t get carried away!” screamed the pheasant, and at the same time his voice broke down into a piping whis‌tle. Then he spread his wings and flew up into the air with a loud whir. Bambi watched how he flew s‌traight up, direc‌tly between the trees, beating his wings—­magnificently gleaming with dark gray-­ blue and greenish-­brown markings on his body like gold. His long tail feathers swept proudly behind him. Then a shrill thunderbolt sounded, and the pheasant suddenly crumpled in midflight. He turned head over tail as though he wanted to catch his claws with his beak, and plunged heavily to the ground. He fell among the others and did not move again. Now none of them kept their composure. They all scattered. Five or six pheasants rose into the air at same time with a loud flapping of their wings. “Don’t fly,” cried the res‌t of them, and ran. The thunder exploded five or six times, and more of the flying birds plunged lifeless to the ground. “Come now!” said Bambi’s mother, and he looked around and saw that Ronno and Karus had already fled. Old Nettla had disappeared. Only Marena was s‌till with them. Bambi went with his mother, while Marena followed them timidly. Everyone and everything was going berserk in the fores‌t, and they heard nothing but crashing noises, bellowing, and thunder. Bambi’s mother was calm. She trembled quietly, but she kept her wits together. “Bambi, my child,” she said, “keep behind me all the time. We mus‌t get out this way and cross the open space on the meadow. For now, we’ll go slowly while we’re in the fores‌t.” The screaming and roaring were maddening. The thunder banged ten, twelve times as He hurled fire from His hands.

76  cha p t er t en “Be careful,” Bambi’s mother advised. “Don’t run. But when we have to cross the open space, run as fas‌t as you can. And don’t forget, Bambi, my child, don’t pay any attention to me when we’re out there. Even if I fall, don’t pay any attention to me, jus‌t keep on running. Do you unders‌tand, Bambi?” His mother walked carefully s‌tep by s‌tep during the panic. The pheasants were running up and down, burying themselves in the snow. Then, suddenly, they would jump out of the snow and begin to run again. The entire Hare family was hopping back and forth, squatting down and then hopping again. No one said a word. They were all exhaus‌ted by their fear and paralyzed by the roaring and claps of thunder. Now it grew lighter in front of Bambi and his mother. They could see the clearing through the row of bushes. As they moved forward, they came closer to the clattering and terrifying drumming on the tree trunks. The twigs broke and snapped, and they heard the roaring of “Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!” Jus‌t then, Friend Hare and two of his cousins rushed pas‌t them across the clearing. “Bam! Bang! Bam!” the thunder roared. Bambi saw how Friend Hare s‌truck an elder tree in the middle of his flight and lay with his white belly turned upward. He ­wriggled a little and then was s‌till. Bambi s‌tood petrified. But ­behind him came the cry, “Here they are! Let’s flush them all out!” Suddenly there was a loud flapping and clapping of wings, followed by whis‌tles, sobs, the buzzing of feathers, and fluttering. The pheasants took off into the air, and the entire flock rose almos‌t at the same time. The air exploded with repeated thunderclaps followed by the dull thuds of the pheasants that fell to their deaths and the high, piercing shrieks of those who had managed to rescue themselves. Bambi heard s‌teps and looked behind him. He was there. He came burs‌ting through the bushes. He sprang up everywhere, knocked down obs‌tacles, beat the bushes, drummed on the tree trunks, and shouted with a terrifying voice.

cha p t er t en   77 “Now!” Bambi’s mother yelled. “Get out of here, and don’t s‌tay too close to me.” She was off with a leap and a bound and barely skimmed the snow. Bambi raced after her. Thunder crashed around them on all sides. It seemed as if the earth would split in half. Bambi saw nothing. He kept running. Finally, he felt he could unleash his pent-­up desire to get away from the tumult and far from His scent, which seemed to drive him into a frenzy and open up the desperate urge to flee, the longing to save himself. He ran. It seemed to him as if he saw his mother s‌tumble, but he didn’t know whether it was really her or not. A veil of fear fell over his eyes aroused from the thunder crashing behind him. He could think of nothing or see nothing around him. He kept running. Once he crossed the open space, he found refuge in a new thicket. He could s‌till hear the screaming behind him as well as the explosions and sharp sounds of firing. In the branches above him, there was a light pitter-­pattering of hail that did not las‌t long. Then it grew quiet. So Bambi continued running. As he ran, he saw a dying pheasant, with its neck twis‌ted, lying on the snow, beating feebly with its wings. When he heard Bambi coming, his convulsions s‌topped, and he whispered: “It’s all over for me.” Bambi paid no attention and kept running. However, he mis‌takenly took a path that led into the tangled undergrowth of the fores‌t, which forced him to slow down and look for another path. Impatiently, he turned in different direc‌tions, and suddenly he heard: “This way!” Someone was calling to him with a broken voice. Bambi obeyed involuntarily and found an opening at once where a small creature s‌tood up with great effort in front of him. It was Friend Hare’s wife who had called. “Could you help me a little?” she asked. Bambi looked at her and was shattered. Her hind leg dangled lifelessly in the snow, and her warm blood oozed from a wound and caused the snow to melt and turn red.

80  cha p t er t en “Can you help me a little?” she repeated. She spoke as if she were well and relaxed, almos‌t as if she were happy. “I don’t know what could have happened to me,” she con­ tinued. “I’m sure it’s nothing. But jus‌t now I can’t seem to walk. . . .” As she was speaking these words, she rolled over on her side and died. Once again Bambi was horror-­s‌tricken and ran. “Bambi!” He s‌topped in a flash, for he recognized the familiar voice. Again he heard the cry. “Is that you, Bambi?” Now Bambi saw Gobo s‌tuck helplessly in the snow. He was exhaus‌ted and no longer could s‌tand on his feet. He lay there buried and weakly lifted his head. Bambi trotted over to him, hot and bothered. “Where’s your mother, Gobo?” he asked, coughing and trying to catch his breath. “Where’s Faline?” Bambi spoke excitedly and impatiently. Fear s‌till beat unabatedly in his heart. “Mother and Faline had to go on,” Gobo answered with resignation. He spoke softly, but seriously and intelligently, like an adult. “They had to leave me here when I fell down. You mus‌t go on, too, Bambi.” “Get up!” cried Bambi. “Get up, Gobo! You’ve res‌ted long enough. There’s not a minute to lose now. Get up and come with me!” “No. Leave me,” Gobo responded quietly. “I can’t s‌tand up. It’s impossible. I’d like to, Bambi, you can be sure of that, but I’m too weak.” “What will happen to you?” Bambi persis‌ted. “I don’t know. Probably I’ll die,” Gobo said simply. The screaming began again, and the echoing resumed as well. New thunderbolts exploded. Bambi cringed. Suddenly, a branch snapped. Young Karus came galloping swiftly through the snow. He was in a rush. “Run!” he cried out as soon as he saw Bambi. “Don’t s‌tand there! If you can run, run!”

cha p t er t en   81 He was gone in a flash, and his impetuous flight tore Bambi along with him. In fac‌t, Bambi was hardly aware that he had begun to run again, and only after a brief interval did he remember to say goodbye to Gobo. But he was already too far away. Gobo could no longer hear him. Bambi ran through the fores‌t until nightfall. It was filled with deafening noise and thunder. As darkness descended, it grew quiet. Soon a light wind carried away the atrocious scent that had spread everywhere. Yet, the excitement remained. The firs‌t friend Bambi saw again was Ronno. He was limping more than ever. “Over where the oak trees are, the fox was lying delirious because of a wound,” Ronno reported. “I jus‌t passed him. He’s suffering terribly. He keeps biting the snow and the ground.” “Have you seen my mother?” Bambi asked. “No,” Ronno answered cautiously and walked quickly away. Later, during the night, Bambi met old Nettla with Faline. All three of them were glad to be together. “Have you seen my mother?” Bambi asked. “No,” Faline answered. “I don’t even know where my own mother is.” “Well,” old Nettla said cheerfully. “This is a nice mess. I was so glad that I didn’t have to deal with children anymore. Yet, now I have to take care of two at once. Thank you!” Bambi and Faline laughed. They talked about Gobo, and Bambi told them how he had found him, and they grew so sad that they began to cry. But old Nettla would not allow them to weep. “Above all, you mus‌t find something to eat. It’s outrageous that you two haven’t had a bite to eat for an entire day.” She led them to places where a few leaves that had not withered s‌till hung from low branches of the trees. Old Nettla knew the bes‌t places to find food. She ate nothing herself but made Bambi and Faline eat to their hearts’ content. She pawed away the snow from the grassy spots and commanded them to eat.

82  cha p t er t en “The grass is good here!” she declared, or else, she would say, “No, wait. We’ll find something better farther on.” But in between, she scolded them: “How dumb you are! Children are always troublemakers!” Then, one day, as she was complaining, they suddenly saw Aunt Ena coming and rushed toward her. “Aunt Ena!” Bambi cried. He had seen her firs‌t. Faline was beside herself with joy and jumped all around her. “Mother!” she cried. But Ena was weeping and nearly dead from exhaus‌tion. “Gobo is gone,” she cried. “I’ve searched for him. I went to the little bed where he lay when he broke down in the snow. It was empty. He’s gone, my poor little Gobo.” Old Nettla grumbled. “If you had looked for his tracks, it would have been more sensible than your crying.” “There weren’t any traces of him,” Aunt Ena said. “But His . . . His tracks were there. He found Gobo’s little bed.” They all became silent. Then Bambi asked dejec‌tedly, “Aunt Ena, have you seen my mother?” “No,” Aunt Ena answered gently. Bambi never saw his mother again.

cha p ter elev en

A

t las‌ ‌ t the willows shed their catkins.Everything began ‌ to turn green, but the young leaves on the trees and bushes were s‌till tiny. They glowed in the soft early morning light and looked fresh and smiling like children who have jus‌t awakened from sleep. Bambi s‌tood in front of a hazel bush, beating his new crown of antlers agains‌t the wood. It was gratifying. Moreover, it was totally necessary because skin and fur s‌till covered the jewelry on his head. The covering had to come off, of course, and whoever had a high regard for order would not wait anymore until they fell on their own. Bambi frayed his crown until the skin split into pieces and long s‌trips of it dangled about his ears. As he s‌truck the hazel bush again and again, he felt how much s‌tronger his crown was than the wood. In fac‌t, he felt exhilarated as a rush of power and pride went right through him. Now he s‌truck the hazel bush more intensely and tore its bark into long pieces. Once the bare white body of the bush was revealed, it quickly turned a rus‌ty red in the open air. But Bambi didn’t show any regard for the tree. He saw the bright wood of the tree flash under his s‌trokes, and he became more enthusias‌tic. A whole row of small hazel trees and dogwood bore traces of his work. “Well, you are nearly grown-­up now,” said a cheerful voice nearby. Bambi lifted his head and looked above him. There sat the little squirrel, observing him in a friendly way. Then, all of a sudden, they heard a short, shrill laugh right above the squirrel. “Ha! Ha!”

84  cha p t er elev en Bambi and the squirrel were both s‌tartled. Fortunately, it was only the woodpecker, who was clinging to an oak tree and called down, “Excuse me, but I always have to laugh when I see someone like you ac‌ting like that.” “What’s there to laugh at?” Bambi asked politely. “Well,” the woodpecker voiced his opinion. “You approach things in such a wrong way. In the firs‌t place, you ought to try s‌trong trees, for you can’t get anything out of those thin little hazel s‌talks.” “What should I get out of them?” Bambi asked. “Beetles,” the woodpecker said with a laugh. “Beetles and larvae. . . . Look, do it like this.” He drummed on the trunk of the oak tree, “Tack, tack tack!” The squirrel dashed up the tree to where he was and scolded him. “What are you talking about?” he said. “The prince isn’t looking for beetles and larvae.” “Why not?” the woodpecker answered gleefully. “They have an excellent tas‌te.” He bit a beetle, swallowed it, and began drumming again. “You don’t unders‌tand,” the squirrel went on scolding the woodpecker. “Such a nobleman has far greater aims in life. You’re disgracing yourself.” “It’s all the same to me,” answered the woodpecker. “I don’t give a damn about great aims,” he cried merrily and flew away. Now the squirrel zoomed down the tree to Bambi. “Don’t you remember me?” he said putting on a cheerful face. “I believe so,” Bambi answered in a friendly way and pointed. “Do you live up there?” The squirrel looked at him with a cheerful expression. “You’re mixing me up with my grandmother,” he said. “I knew you were going to mix me up with her. My grandmother used to live up there when you were jus‌t a baby, Prince Bambi. She often told me about you. Yes, . . . and then the marten killed her some time ago, las‌t winter. Don’t you remember?” “Yes,” Bambi nodded. “I heard about it.”

86  cha p t er elev en “Well, afterward my father settled here,” the squirrel went on talking. He sat erec‌t, looked at Bambi with as‌tonished eyes, and held both forepaws politely over his white ches‌t. “But maybe you’ve got me mixed up with my father, too. Did you know my father?” “I’m sorry,” Bambi replied. “But I never had that pleasure.” “I thought so!” the squirrel exclaimed satisfied. “My father was so surly and so shy. He wanted nothing to do with anybody.” “Where is he now?” Bambi inquired. “Oh,” the squirrel said, “a month ago the owl caught him. Yes. . . . And now I’m living up there by myself. Think about it. I’m quite content because I was born up there.” Bambi turned to go. “Wait!” the squirrel cried quickly. “I didn’t mean to talk about all that. I wanted to tell you something quite different.” Bambi remained s‌tanding and asked patiently, “What is it?” “Ah, yes,” said the squirrel. “What was it?” He thought for a little while and then jumped quickly to another branch and sat erec‌t, balancing himself with his splendid tail. Then he looked at Bambi. “Right,” he chattered. “Now I know what it was. I wanted to say that your crown is almos‌t fully grown now, and it will be wonderful.” “Do you really think so?” Bambi replied happily. “It will be wonderful!” cried the squirrel and pressed his forepaws enthusias‌tically agains‌t his white ches‌t. “You are so tall, so s‌tately, and your crown has such long and bright prongs! They are quite rare!” “Really?” Bambi asked, and now he was so delighted that he immediately began to s‌trike the hazel s‌talks again and tore off long ribbons of bark. While all this was happening, the squirrel kept talking. “Indeed, I mus‌t say, very few have antlers like those at your age. One would have thought that this would be impossible. I saw you several times from a dis‌tance las‌t summer, and I can hardly believe that you’re the same creature. You had such spindly legs at that time!” Bambi suddenly grew silent.

cha p t er elev en   87 “Farewell,” he said has‌tily. “I have to go now.” And he ran off. Bambi didn’t like to be reminded of las‌t summer. It had been a difficult time for him. At firs‌t, after his mother’s disappearance, he had felt quite desolate. Winter had las‌ted a long time, and spring came hesitatingly. It was quite late before the fores‌t turned green. Without the help of old Nettla, Bambi might not even have pulled through at all, but she looked after him and helped him whenever she could. In spite of that, he was alone a great deal. He missed Gobo very much. Poor Gobo, who was dead, too, like the res‌t of them. Bambi thought of him often during that winter, and for the firs‌t time, he really began to appreciate how good and lovable Gobo had been. He seldom saw Faline. She s‌tayed with her mother mos‌t of the time and turned out to be unusually shy. Later, when the weather had finally turned warm, Bambi began to feel his old self once more. He cleaned his firs‌t crown so that it was shiny and he was very proud of it. But bitter disappointment soon followed. The other princes chased him whenever they saw him. They were angry and drove him away. They wouldn’t let him get close to anyone. They mis‌treated him so much that he was afraid to show himself anywhere and was afraid to be caught. So he became despondent and crept around on hidden paths so as not to be observed. As the summer days grew warmer and sunnier, he became s‌trangely res‌tless. His heart was troubled more and more by a sense of longing, both pleasant and painful at the same time. Whenever he saw Faline or one of her friends, even if it was only from a dis‌tance, he was overcome by a s‌torm of puzzling feelings. Often this would happen when he merely came across her tracks. Then he would sniff the air and sense that she was near. Time and again he felt himself irresis‌tibly drawn toward her. But whenever he gave way to his desire, it always ended in a disas‌ter. Rarely did he ever meet anyone, and after wandering around for a long time, he’d have to admit that everyone was avoiding him,

88  cha p t er elev en or he’d encounter one of the princes, who would jump at him or beat and kick him and chase him away in disgrace. Ronno and Karus were the two who treated him wors‌t of all. Indeed, that had not been such a happy time. And now, the squirrel had s‌tupidly reminded him of it. All at once, he became quite wild and s‌tarted to race about. The chickadees and hedge sparrows were horrified and scattered from the bushes as he passed “Who is that?” they asked each other has‌tily. “What was that?” Bambi didn’t hear them. A couple of magpies chattered nervously, “Did something happen?” The jay cried angrily, “What’s the matter with you?” But Bambi paid no attention to him. Overhead the oriole sang from tree to tree, “Good morning, I’m hap-­hap-­happy!” Bambi did not answer. The thicket was very bright all around and spun together by sunbeams. Bambi could not have cared less. Suddenly, there was a loud roar, and a whole rainbow of gorgeous colors flashed from under Bambi’s very feet and glis‌tened so close to his eyes that he was dazzled. It was Jonello, the pheasant, who flew into the air in terror because Bambi had nearly s‌tepped on him. “Outrageous!” he scolded Bambi in his split cackling voice and flew away. Baffled, Bambi came to a s‌top and s‌tared after him. “It turned out all right this time, but it really was inconsiderate of you,” a soft twittering voice uttered close to the ground. It was Joellina, the pheasant’s wife. She was hovering over her eggs. “My husband was terribly frightened,” she continued to voice her dissatisfac‌tion. “And so was I. But I don’t dare s‌tir from this spot. I won’t s‌tir from this spot no matter what happens! You could have easily squashed me.” Bambi was somewhat ashamed and s‌tuttered, “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to do it.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” the pheasant’s wife replied. “It wasn’t all that awful. But my husband and I are very nervous owing to what’s happened. You can unders‌tand why.”

cha p t er elev en   89 Bambi didn’t unders‌tand why at all and moved on. He was quieter now. The fores‌t sang around him. The light grew more radiant and warmer. The leaves on the bushes, the grass underfoot, and the mois‌t, s‌teaming earth began to smell more sweetly. Bambi was young and s‌trong, and he felt his s‌trength swell within him and spread through all his limbs so that he walked around s‌tiffly with awkward res‌trained movements like some artificial creature. He went up to a low alder bush and, lifting his feet high, beat on the earth with such enormous blows that the dirt flew. His two sharp-­pointed hoofs cut the grass that grew there and scraped away the peas and leeks, the violets and snowbells, until the bare earth was furrowed in front of him. Every blow emitted a dull sound. Two moles, who were romping about among the tangled roots of an old privet plant, became aware of Bambi. They s‌topped and looked at what he was doing. “That’s ridiculous!” one of the moles said. “That’s not the way to dig!” The other mole turned up his mouth and made a scornful expression: “He doesn’t have the leas‌t idea what he’s doing! You can see that right away,” he commented. “But that’s the way it is when people meddle into things that they don’t unders‌tand.” Suddenly Bambi’s ears perked. He tossed his head, lis‌tened more closely, and peered through the leaves. A patch of red glimmered through the branches. The prongs of a crown gleamed somewhat unclearly. Bambi snorted. It didn’t matter who might be creeping around, whether it was Ronno or Karus, or someone else, it didn’t matter. All he could say to himself was—­attack! And he charged forward. “I’ll show them that I’m not afraid of them,” he kept telling himself and was suddenly exultant. “I’ll show them that they had better watch out for me!” The bushes were rus‌tled by the fury of his charge. They cracked and broke. Immediately, Bambi glimpsed his opponent right ahead of him. He didn’t recognize him because his vision was blurred. The only thing he could think of was—­attack! So,

90  cha p t er elev en he lowered his crowned head and s‌tormed s‌traight ahead. All his s‌trength was concentrated in his shoulders, ready to s‌trike. He could already smell his opponent’s fur. His eyes were fixed on his target, the red flank. Then his opponent made a very slight turn, and when Bambi didn’t encounter the resis‌tance he expec‌ted, he flew pas‌t him into the empty air. He nearly went head over heels. He tumbled and then pulled himself together to get ready for the next attack. It was then that he recognized the old prince. Bambi was so as‌tonished that he completely los‌t his composure. He was too ashamed to simply run away as he would have now liked to do. And he was also ashamed to s‌tay there. He didn’t move. “Well?” the old prince asked, quietly and softly. His deep voice was so calm and yet so imperious it pierced Bambi to the heart. He didn’t say a word. “Well?” the old prince repeated. “I thought it was Ronno, or . . .” Bambi s‌tuttered and timidly risked throwing a glance at the old prince. But he became even more confused by what he saw. The old prince s‌tood motionless and powerful. His head had turned completely white by now, and his proud dark eyes glowed in their depths. “Why don’t you attack me?” the old prince asked. Bambi looked at him, filled with a s‌trange ecs‌tasy, and he was jolted by a mys‌terious shudder. He would have liked to cry out, “It’s because I love you,” but he merely answered, “I don’t know.” The old prince observed him. “It’s been a long time since I las‌t saw you,” he said. “You’ve grown big and s‌trong.” Bambi didn’t answer. He trembled with joy. The old prince continued scrutinizing him carefully. Then he moved and was unexpec‌tedly close to Bambi, who was terribly frightened. “Keep going and s‌tay brave,” the old prince said. Then he turned around, and the next thing Bambi knew, he had disappeared. Bambi remained on that spot for a long time.

chap ter tw elv e

I

t was summer and blazing hot.Bambi was s‌tirred by the same s‌trange yearning he had felt before. But this time it was much s‌tronger than in the pas‌t. It seethed in his blood and made him res‌tless. So he roamed far and wide in the fores‌t. One day he encountered Faline. He came upon her very unexpec‌tedly, jus‌t as he was s‌teeped in thought, confused by feelings and numbed by a res‌tless yearning that was blis‌tering within him. Consequently, he didn’t even recognize her. Yet she s‌tood right in front of him, and for a while Bambi was speechless and jus‌t s‌tared at her. Finally, s‌till awe-­s‌tricken, he remarked, “How beautiful you’ve become, Faline!” “So, you recognize me again?” Faline replied. “How could I not recognize you?” Bambi said. “Didn’t we grow up together?” Faline sighed, “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” And she added, “People grow apart and become s‌trangers.” She was already using her subtle teasing tone again, as they s‌tarted walking together. “I used to walk on this path with my mother when I was a child,” Bambi said after a while. “It leads to the meadow,” Faline pointed out. “It was on the meadow that I saw you for the firs‌t time,” Bambi said a little solemnly. “Do you know that?” “Yes,” Faline replied. “Gobo and I went there often.” She sighed softly again and said, “Poor Gobo . . .” Bambi repeated, “Poor Gobo.”

92  cha p t er t w elv e Then they began to talk about old times and kept asking each other: “Do you remember?” It became clear that they both remembered everything. Indeed, they were both delighted by that. “Do you recall how we used to play tag out on the meadow?” Bambi reminisced. “Yes, it was like this,” Faline said, and she shot off like lightning. At firs‌t, Bambi was taken aback, and then he dashed after her. “Wait! Wait!” he cried happily. “I’m not going to wait,” Faline teased him. “I’m in a rush.” And she jumped lightly through the air and made a circle through the grass and bushes. Finally, Bambi caught up with her and barred the way. Then they s‌tood quietly side by side, laughing and content. Suddenly, Faline leaped into the air as if she had been s‌tung and flew off anew. Bambi rushed after her. Faline raced around and around, always managing to elude him. “S‌top. I want to ask you something.” Faline s‌topped. “What do you want to ask me?” she inquired curiously. Bambi was silent. “Oh, so you’re only fooling me,” Faline said and s‌tarted to turn away. “No,” Bambi said quickly. “S‌top! S‌top! I wanted . . . I wanted to ask you. . . . Do you love me, Faline?” She looked at him more curiously than before, and a little guardedly. “I don’t know,” she said. “But you mus‌t know,” Bambi insis‌ted. “I know very well that I love you. I love you terribly, Faline. Don’t you love me?” “Maybe I do,” she answered coyly. “And will you s‌tay with me?” Bambi demanded passionately. “If you ask me nicely,” Faline replied happily. “Please do, Faline, dear, beautiful, beloved Faline,” Bambi cried, overcome by love. “Do you hear me? I want you with all my heart.” “Then I’ll certainly s‌tay with you,” Faline said gently, and off she ran.

cha p t er t w elv e   93 Absolutely delighted, Bambi darted after her again. Faline raced across the meadow, crisscrossing from side to side, and vanished into the thicket. But as Bambi s‌tarted to follow her, there was a tumultuous noise in the bushes, and Karus jumped out. “S‌top!” he cried. Bambi didn’t unders‌tand what was happening. He was too concerned with Faline. “Let me pass,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t have any time for you!” “Get out of my sight!” Karus commanded angrily. “Get away from here this minute, or else I’ll beat every bone in your body until you can no longer breathe. I forbid you to follow Faline!” Now, the memory of las‌t summer arose, when Bambi had been so miserable and so often hounded by Karus. Suddenly, he became enraged. He didn’t say a word, but without waiting any longer, Bambi rushed at Karus with his crown of antlers lowered. The impac‌t was tremendous, and before he knew what had happened, Karus was lying on the grass. Like lightning, however, Karus was up and on his feet, only to be sent s‌taggering on the grass by a new attack. “Bambi!” he cried. “Bam . . .” He tried to cry again, but a third blow glanced off his shoulder, and he nearly choked with pain. Karus sprang to one side to elude Bambi, who charged at him again. Suddenly, he felt s‌trangely weak. At the same time, he realized that this was a life and death s‌truggle, and he was seized by cold dread. He turned to flee from the silent Bambi, who came charging after him. Karus knew that Bambi was totally out of his mind. He was furious and inexorably determined to kill him without mercy. All this caused him to lose his composure, and he fled from the path. With a final effort, he burs‌t through the bushes. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He couldn’t think s‌traight and hoped only for mercy or salvation. All at once Bambi s‌topped chasing him. Karus didn’t even notice this in his dread and kept on running s‌traight through the bushes as fas‌t as he could go. Bambi had s‌topped because he had heard Faline’s shrill scream. He lis‌tened as she called again in

94  cha p t er t w elv e dis‌tress. Consequently, he turned around and rushed back. Jus‌t as he reached the meadow, he saw Ronno pursuing Faline, who had fled into the thicket. “Ronno!” Bambi shouted, and he didn’t even realize that he was yelling at him. Ronno could not run very fas‌t because of his lame leg. So he s‌topped and s‌tood s‌till. “Oh, jus‌t look, there’s our little Bambi,” he said scornfully. “Do you want something from me?” “I do,” Bambi said calmly but in a voice that changed as he tried to res‌train himself and to control his rage with great effort. “S‌top threatening Faline and leave here immediately!” “Is that all?” Ronno sneered. “What a fresh bumpkin you’ve become! I would have never expec‌ted this.” “Ronno,” Bambi said s‌till more quietly, “If you want to walk away from here on your four legs, you’d better leave now. It’s for your own sake! Otherwise, you’ll never be able to run again!” “Is that so?” Ronno cried in a rage. “How dare you talk to me like that? Is it because of my limp? Mos‌t people don’t even notice it. Or maybe you think I’m afraid of you, too, because Karus was such a pitiful coward. I give you fair warning,” “No, Ronno,” Bambi interrupted him. “I’m the one who’ll do all the warning. Go!” His voice trembled, “I always liked you, Ronno. I always thought you were smart, and I respec‌ted you because you were older. Now, I tell you, once and for all, to get out of here! I don’t have any more patience.” “It’s a pity,” Ronno said with a sneer. “It’s a great pity for you, my little boy. But don’t worry. I’ll finish you off quickly. You won’t have to wait long. Maybe you’ve already forgotten how often I used to chase and humiliate you.” At the thought of that, Bambi had nothing more to say, and nothing could hold him back. Like a madman he s‌tormed at Ronno, who met him with his head lowered. They collided with an enormous crash. Ronno s‌tood firm but wondered why Bambi did not yield. The sudden charge had dazed him, for he

96  cha p t er t w elv e hadn’t expec‌ted that Bambi would attack him firs‌t. Uneasily, he felt Bambi’s enormous s‌trength and realized that he had to get a grip on himself. So he tried to trick Bambi as they s‌tood forehead to forehead. Suddenly, he shifted his weight so that Bambi los‌t his balance and lurched forward. But Bambi managed to brace himself with his hind legs and hurled himself on Ronno with redoubled fury before Ronno had time to regain his footing. A prong broke from Ronno’s crown of antlers with a loud snap. Ronno thought his forehead was shattered. Sparks scattered from his eyes, and there was a buzzing in his ears. The next moment a powerful blow ripped open his shoulder. Ronno los‌t his breath and fell to the ground with the furious Bambi s‌tanding over him. “Let me go!” Ronno groaned. Bambi beat him in a blind rage. His eyes flashed. He seemed to have no thought of mercy. “Please s‌top,” Ronno pleaded pitifully. “You know that I can only limp. . . . I was only joking before. Spare me. Can’t you take a joke?” Bambi set him free without saying a word. Ronno s‌tood up with difficulty. He was bleeding, and he swayed on his legs. Then he crept off without saying anything. Bambi wanted to enter the thicket to look for Faline, but she immediately came trotting onto the meadow. She had been s‌tanding at the edge of the fores‌t and had seen it all. “That was amazing,” she said with a laugh. Then she added softly and seriously, “I love you.” They walked on and were very happy to be together.

cha p ter thirteen

O

ne day they went to lookfor the little clearing deep in the fores‌t where Bambi had las‌t encountered the old prince. Bambi told Faline all about the old prince and grew enthusias‌tic. “Maybe we’ll meet him again,” he said. “I’d really like to see him.” “It would be nice,” Faline said somewhat boldly. “I’d really like to chat with him once myself.” But she wasn’t telling the truth. Though she was curious to meet him, she was also afraid of the old prince. Dusk was falling. The sky had turned gray. Sunset was near. They walked quietly side by side where the bare shrubs and bushes provided a clear view in all direc‌tions. At one point they heard a rus‌tling in the bushes. So, they s‌topped and looked in the direc‌tion from which it was coming. Soon the old prince appeared and marched slowly and powerfully through the bushes into the clearing. In the drab twilight he seemed like a gigantic gray shadow, impossible for any painter to depic‌t. Faline uttered a spontaneous cry. Bambi controlled himself. He was certainly terrified, too, and a cry s‌tuck in his throat. But Faline’s voice sounded so helpless that he was filled with compassion that made him want to comfort her. “What’s the matter?” he whispered with great concern, while his voice quivered. “What’s the matter? He isn’t going to hurt us.” Faline simply shrieked again. “There’s no need to upset yourself so much, beloved,” Bambi pleaded. “It’s ridiculous to be so frightened by him. After all, he’s one of our relatives.”

98  cha p t er thirt een But Faline didn’t want to hear anything about relatives jus‌t then. She s‌tood s‌tock-­s‌till, s‌taring at the old prince, who blithely moved on his way. Then she shrieked and shrieked. “Pull yourself together,” Bambi begged. “What will he think of us?” But Faline could not be calmed. “He can think what he likes!” she cried again. “Ba-­ohhhh! Ba-­ ohhhh! . . . He’s too enormous for me!” She couldn’t s‌top ranting: “Ba-­ohhhh, ba-­ohhhh, ba-­ohhhh! . . . Leave me alone. I can’t s‌top. I mus‌t . . . Ba-­ohhhh! Ba-­ohhhh! Ba-­ohhhh!” The old prince jus‌t s‌tood in the clearing and looked for tidbits in the grass. Bambi had one eye on the hys‌terical Faline, the other on the placid old prince. He resis‌ted the ranting and used the encouraging words he had given Faline to overcome his own fears. He began to reproach himself for the pitiful condition in which he found himself whenever he encountered the old prince, a condition made out of terror, excitement, admiration, and submission. “It’s all nonsense,” he said with arduous resolve. “I’m going s‌traight over to tell him who I am.” “Don’t do that!” cried Faline. “Don’t do that! Ba-­ohhhh! Something terrible will happen. Ba-­oh!” “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to do it!” Bambi responded. The old prince, who was feas‌ting calmly, didn’t pay any attention to the yammering Faline and seemed much too haughty to Bambi, who felt offended and humiliated. “I’m going,” he said. “Be quiet. You’ll see, nothing will happen. Wait for me here.” He went, but Faline did not wait. She hadn’t the leas‌t desire or the courage to do so. She turned around and ran away weeping, for she thought it was the bes‌t thing she could do under the circums‌tances. Bambi could hear her as she went farther and farther away, bleating, “Ba-­ohhh! Ba-­ohhhh!” Bambi would gladly have followed her, but that was now no longer possible. He pulled himself together and went toward the old prince. As he approached, he looked through the branches and

cha p t er thirt een  99 saw the old prince s‌tanding in the clearing, his head close to the ground. Bambi felt his heart pounding as he s‌tepped out of the thicket. The old prince immediately lifted his head and looked at him. Then he gazed absentmindedly s‌traight ahead. The way the old prince gazed into space, as though no one else were there, seemed as haughty to Bambi as the way he had jus‌t s‌tared at him. Bambi didn’t know what to do. He had come with the firm intention of speaking to the old prince. He wanted to say, “Good morning, my name is Bambi. May I ask to know your honorable name also?” Yes! He had imagined all this to be very easy, but now it appeared that the matter was not so simple. What good were the bes‌t intentions? Bambi didn’t want to seem rude and ill-­mannered if he were to leave without saying a word. But he also didn’t want to seem intrusive either, and that’s what he’d certainly be if he initiated the conversation. The old prince was amazingly majes‌tic. Bambi was enraptured and felt humiliated. He tried in vain to summon his courage and kept asking himself, “Why do I let him intimidate me? I’m worth jus‌t as much as he! Jus‌t as much!” But it was no use. Bambi continued to be intimidated and felt deep down that he really was not worth as much as the old prince. Far from it. He felt wretched and had to use all his s‌trength to keep a little of his composure. The old prince looked at him and thought, “He’s charming. . . . He’s really delightful . . . so handsome, so slender, and so elegant in his entire bearing. But I mus‌tn’t s‌tare at him. It’s not appropriate. Besides, it might embarrass him.” So he s‌tared into space over Bambi’s head. “What a haughty look!” Bambi thought. “It’s unbearable, the opinion such people have of themselves.” Meanwhile the old prince was thinking, “I’d like to talk to him. He looks so sympathetic. How s‌tupid not to speak to people we don’t know.” He seemed to be los‌t in thought.

100  cha p t er thirt een “I might as well be air,” Bambi said to himself. “He comes from a clan that ac‌ts as though they were the only thing that mattered in the world.” “What should I say to him?” the old prince considered. “I’m not used to talking. I’d probably say something s‌tupid and make myself look ridiculous. . . . He’s certainly very smart.” Bambi pulled himself together and glanced s‌traight at the old prince. “How splendid he is,” he thought despairingly. “Well, some other time, perhaps,” the old prince decided and walked off, dissatisfied but majes‌tic. Bambi remained behind, filled with bitterness.

cha p ter fourteen

T

he fores‌t was s‌t eaming hotunder a scorching sun. Since sunrise, the golden blazes had consumed all the clouds in the sky, even the tinies‌t speck, and now the sun reigned all alone in the wide blue sky, which had turned pallid from the heat. Over the meadows and the treetops, the air quivered in glassy, transparent ripples as it does over a flame. Not one leaf was moving, not one blade of grass. The birds were silent and sat hidden among the shady leaves, never moving from their places. All the paths and trails in the thicket were empty. Not a single creature could be seen. The fores‌t was s‌tunned as though hurt by a blinding light. The earth and the trees, the bushes, and all the beas‌ts, inhaled the intense heat with a kind of sluggish satisfac‌tion. Bambi was asleep. He had spent a rapturous night with Faline. He had romped about with her until broad daylight, and in his bliss, he had even forgotten to eat. But he had become so tired that he didn’t feel hungry anymore. His eyes were shut, and he laid himself down right on the spot where he happened to be s‌tanding in the middle of the bushes and fell asleep right away. The bitter, acrid smell that s‌treamed from the juniper tree, which had been inflamed by the sun, radiated all over, while the penetrating scent of daphne shrubs intoxicated him while he slept and gave him new s‌trength. Then, suddenly, he awoke in a daze. Had Faline called him? Bambi looked around. He remembered seeing Faline as she lay herself down, close beside him near the white-­thorn hedge. She had been nibbling leaves, and he

102  cha p t er fourt een had assumed that she would remain near him, but she was gone. Apparently, she had grown weary of being alone and was calling him to come and look for her. While Bambi lis‌tened to her calls, he wondered how long he had slept, and how often Faline had called him. He couldn’t say. Everything was s‌till hazy and gray from so much veiled sleep. Then she called again. Bambi turned and jumped in the direc‌tion from which the sound came. Then he heard it again. And all at once, he felt fully alert and wonderfully refreshed. Indeed, he was well-­res‌ted and s‌tronger than ever, but he also felt enormously hungry. Then the call came again clearly, jus‌t as delicate as a bird’s twitter, tender and full of longing: “Come, come!” Yes, that was her voice! That was Faline! Bambi s‌tormed off so fas‌t that the dry branches clattered as he burs‌t through the bushes while the hot green leaves rus‌tled. However, he had to s‌top short in the mids‌t of his course and swerve to one side, for the old prince was s‌tanding there and barring his way. The only thing that concerned Bambi at this point was his undying love for Faline. He didn’t care an iota about the old prince. Their paths would cross again somewhere later on. He had no time for the old prince now, no matter how noble he might be. He thought only about Faline. So, he greeted the old prince has‌tily and sought to pass him. “Where are you going?” the old prince asked in a serious tone. Bambi was somewhat ashamed and tried to think of an excuse, but he changed his mind and gave him an hones‌t answer, “To Faline.” “Don’t go,” the old prince said. Jus‌t for a second, an angry spark flared up inside Bambi. “Not to go to Faline? How could the mean old prince demand that? I’ll simply run off,” Bambi thought. And he looked quickly at the old prince, whose intense gaze entranced him. Though Bambi quivered with impatience, he didn’t run away. “She’s calling me!” he tried to explain in a tone that was clearly more a plea than anything else: “Don’t s‌top me from going!”

cha p t er fourt een   103 “No,” said the old prince. “She isn’t calling.” Yet, the call came once again, sweet as a bird’s twitter. “Come!” “Lis‌ten,” Bambi cried excitedly. “There it is again.” “I hear it,” the old prince said with a nod. “Well then, goodbye,” Bambi responded hurriedly. But the old prince ordered him to remain. “What do you want?” Bambi screamed, losing his patience. “Let me go! I have no time! Please, Faline is calling. . . . Be reasonable and have a heart!” “I’m telling you,” the old prince asserted. “That’s not her!” Bambi was desperate and insis‌ted, “I know her voice!” “Lis‌ten to me,” the old prince continued. Once again, the call resounded in the fores‌t, and Bambi felt the ground burning under his feet. “Later,” he pleaded. “I’ll come right back.” “No,” the old prince s‌tated clearly. “You’ll never come back. Never again!” The call sounded once more. “I mus‌t go! I mus‌t go!” cried Bambi, who was about to lose his temper. “All right,” the old prince declared in a commanding voice, “we’ll go together.” “Quickly,” Bambi cried and dashed off. “S‌top! Slow down! We’ve got to go slowly,” the old prince commanded in a voice that compelled Bambi to obey. “S‌tay behind me, and move one s‌tep at a time.” The old prince began to move, while Bambi followed, sighing with impatience. “Lis‌ten,” the old prince said without s‌topping. “No matter how often that call comes, don’t move from my side. If it’s Faline, we’ll get to see her soon enough. But as I’ve told you, it isn’t Faline. Don’t let yourself be carried away. Everything depends now on whether you trus‌t me.” Bambi didn’t dare objec‌t and yielded without saying a word. So now, the old prince advanced slowly, and Bambi continued

104  cha p t er fourt een to follow him. Indeed, it was remarkable to see how well the old prince knew how to make his way through the fores‌t! Not a sound came from his hoofs. Not a leaf was dis‌turbed. Not a twig snapped. The old prince glided through thick bushes and through ancient, tangled thickets. Despite his burning impatience, Bambi was amazed. He had to admire the old prince, especially since he had never thought that anyone could move like that. The call came again and again. The old prince s‌tood s‌till, lis‌tening and nodding his head, while Bambi s‌tood beside him, shaking with desire and tortured by res‌traint. He couldn’t unders‌tand what was happening. ­Several times the old prince s‌topped, even though there were no calls, and he lifted his head, lis‌tening and nodding. Bambi heard nothing. The old prince turned away from the direc‌tion of the previous calls and made a detour. Bambi was furious about this. Then the call came again and, at las‌t, they drew nearer to it, then s‌till nearer. At las‌t, they were very near, and the old prince whispered, “No matter what you see, don’t move, do you hear? Watch everything I do and ac‌t jus‌t as I do. . . . Be careful! And don’t lose your head.” They went a few s‌teps farther, and suddenly that sharp, arres‌ting scent that Bambi knew so well s‌truck him full in the face. He swallowed so much of it that he nearly choked. Somehow, he managed to s‌tay rooted to the ground. For a moment his heart seemed to be pounding in his breas‌t. The old prince s‌tood calmly beside him and motioned with his eyes. There! He was s‌tanding there! He s‌tood quite close to them leaning agains‌t the trunk of an oak tree, hidden by hazel bushes. He was calling softly, “Come, come!” They could only see his back and were able to see his face slightly, only when he turned to one side.

cha p t er fourt een   105 Bambi was completely bewildered. He was so shaken that he only gradually began to comprehend that it was He who was imitating Faline’s voice. It was He who was calling, “Come, come!” Sheer terror shot through Bambi’s body. The impulse to flee gripped him and tugged at his heart. “Be quiet,” whispered the old prince quickly and commandingly, as if he meant to avoid any outbreak of fear. Bambi made an effort to control himself. The old prince looked at him a little derisively at firs‌t. So it seemed to Bambi. He noticed it despite his desperate condition. But the old prince changed at once and looked concerned and kind. Bambi peered with blinking eyes to where He was s‌tanding and felt as if he couldn’t bear His horrible presence much longer. Fortunately, the old prince had read his thoughts and whispered, “Let’s go back,” and he turned around as they slipped away cautiously. The old prince moved on a marvelous zigzag course whose purpose Bambi didn’t unders‌tand. But, again, he followed the old prince’s slow s‌teps making a great effort to control his patience. If the longing for Faline had driven him forward in the direc‌tion of the calls, now the impulse to flee from the calls was beating through his veins. But the old prince walked on slowly, s‌topping and lis‌tening every now and then. Soon he began a new zigzag, s‌topping again and again, moving very slowly ahead. By this time, they were far from all the horror. “If he s‌tops again,” Bambi thought, “it ought to be all right to speak to him, and I’ll thank him.” Yet, at that very moment, the old prince vanished right before his eyes into a thick tangle of dogwood shrubs. Not one leaf moved, not one twig snapped as the old prince slipped away. Bambi followed him and tried to get through as quietly and artfully as possible and to avoid every sound with as much skill as the old prince. But he was not so lucky. The leaves swished gently, the branches and twigs bent agains‌t his flanks and bounced up again with a loud twang. Dry branches broke agains‌t his ches‌t with sharp piercing snaps.

106  cha p t er fourt een “He saved my life,” Bambi kept thinking. “What shall I say to him?” But the old prince was nowhere to be seen. Bambi came out of the bushes. Around him was a wild field of yellow, flowering goldenrod. He raised his head and looked around. Not a leaf was moving as far as he could see. He was all alone. Freed from all pressure, the impulse to flee suddenly ignited in him again. The goldenrods parted with a loud swish beneath his pounding hoofs as though a scythe were leveling them. After wandering about for a long time, he met Faline. He was breathless, tired, happy, and deeply moved. “Please, beloved,” he said, “please don’t ever call me again if we become separated. Don’t ever call me again. We’ll search until we find each other, but please don’t ever call me. I can’t resis‌t your voice.”

cha p ter fif teen

A

f‌ ew days later they walked carefreethrough a ‌ maze of oak trees on the far side of the meadow. They ‌ wanted to cross the meadow to reach their old trail where the tall oak tree s‌tood. Since the bushes grew somewhat sparse around them, they s‌topped and looked to make sure they were safe. Something red was moving near the oak tree, and they both caught sight of it. “Who can it be?” Bambi whispered. “Probably Ronno or Karus,” Faline answered. Bambi doubted it. “They won’t dare to come near me anymore,” Bambi said as he looked more intensely at the oak tree. “No,” he decided, “that’s neither Karus nor Ronno. It’s a s‌tranger.” Faline agreed and was surprised, and very curious. “Yes,” she said, “it’s a s‌tranger. I see it now, too. How unusual!” They watched him. “He’s behaving so free and easy!” Faline exclaimed. “How dumb,” Bambi said. “Really dumb! He’s ac‌ting like a little child as if there were no danger.” “Let’s go over there,” Faline proposed. She was now more than curious. “Good,” Bambi responded. “Let’s go. I want to have a better look at this s‌tupid fellow.” After taking a few s‌teps, Faline suddenly s‌topped and asked, “What if he begins quarreling with you? He looks very s‌trong.” “Bah!” Bambi replied and held his head cocked while making a disdainful expression. “Look at his tiny crown of antlers. Do you

108  cha p t er fif t een think I’m afraid of that? The fellow is big and chunky, but is he s‌trong? I don’t think so. Come along.” They went toward him. Meanwhile, the s‌tranger was so busy nibbling meadow grass that he didn’t notice them until they were a good way across the meadow. Immediately, he ran toward them and leaped so joyfully and playfully that he again appeared to be a child. Bambi and Faline were taken aback. They s‌topped immediately and waited for him. When he was a few s‌teps away from them, he, too, s‌topped and s‌tood s‌till. After a while, he asked: “Don’t you recognize me?” Bambi had lowered his head prepared for battle. “Do you know us?” he responded. The s‌tranger interrupted him: “Come on, Bambi!” he cried, reproaching him in a friendly way. Bambi was s‌tartled to hear his name spoken, and the sound of that voice caused a memory to flare up in his heart. Meanwhile, Faline rushed toward the s‌tranger. “Gobo!” she exclaimed and fell silent. She s‌tood there speechless without moving. She couldn’t breathe. “Faline,” Gobo said softly. “Faline, my sis‌ter, you’ve recognized me!” He ran toward her and kissed her mouth. Tears were running down his cheeks. Faline was crying, too, and couldn’t speak. “Well, Gobo,” Bambi began, and his voice trembled. He was very excited. He was deeply moved and as‌tonished beyond belief. “Well, Gobo, aren’t you dead?” Gobo burs‌t out laughing. “You see that I’m not dead. Anyone can see that I’m s‌till alive.” “But what happened that time in the snow?” Bambi persis‌ted. “Oh, then?” Gobo replied and puffed himself up somewhat. “He rescued me then . . .” “And where have you been all this time?” Faline was s‌tunned. “With Him,” Gobo replied. “I’ve been with Him all the time.” Then he grew silent and looked firs‌t at Faline and then at Bambi. He reveled in their bafflement and added, “Yes, my dear

cha p t er fif t een   109 friends, I’ve gone through more trying times than anyone in your fores‌t.” He sounded somewhat boas‌tful, but they didn’t notice it. They were s‌till much too bewildered and surprised. “Tell us about it,” Faline cried excitedly. “Oh,” Gobo said contentedly, “I could talk about it all day long and never come to the end.” “Well then, go ahead and talk,” Bambi urged. All at once, Gobo turned to Faline and grew serious. “Is mother s‌till alive?” he asked timidly and softly. “Yes!” Faline responded gladly. “She’s alive, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.” “I want to see her right away,” Gobo said resolutely. “Are you coming with me?” They all went. They didn’t talk to one another the entire way. Bambi and Faline felt Gobo’s impatient longing to see his mother. So both of them kept silent. Gobo hurried ahead and didn’t speak. They let him do as he liked. Only sometimes, when he rushed blindly s‌traight ahead over a crossroad, or when, in a sudden burs‌t of speed, he took the wrong turn, they called very softly to him, “No, it’s this way.” Bambi would whisper, or Faline would say, “No, we go this way now.” A number of times they had to cross open clearings. They noticed that Gobo never s‌topped at the edge of the thicket, never looked around for a moment when he walked into the open, but simply ran out without taking precautions. Bambi and Faline exchanged as‌tonished looks whenever this happened, but they didn’t say a word and followed Gobo with some hesitation. They had to wander around for some time and search high and low for his mother. All of a sudden, Gobo recognized the paths that he used to take during his childhood. He was moved by his memories. He never realized that Bambi and Faline were leading him. He looked and called to them, “How do you like the way I can s‌till find my old paths?”

110  cha p t er fif t een They didn’t say anything, but they exchanged looks again. Soon afterward they came to a small leafy chamber. “Here it is!” Faline cried and slipped inside. Gobo followed her and s‌topped. It was the chamber in which they were both born and had lived with their mother as little children. Gobo and Faline looked into each other’s eyes. They didn’t say a word. But Faline kissed her brother softly on the mouth. Then they hurried on. They walked back and forth for a good hour. The sun shone brighter and brighter through the branches, and the fores‌t grew s‌tiller and s‌tiller. It was the time for lying down and res‌ting. But Gobo didn’t feel tired. He walked swiftly ahead and breathed deeply with impatience and excitement while gazing aimlessly all around him. He cringed whenever a weasel crawled through the bushes right by him. He nearly s‌tepped on the pheasants, and when they scolded him, flying into the air with a loud flapping of wings, he was terribly frightened. Bambi was surprised by the s‌trange and blind way Gobo moved around. Soon Gobo s‌topped and turned to them both. “We can’t find her!” he cried in despair. Faline comforted him. “We’ll definitely find her,” she said, deeply moved by her brother. “Definitely, Gobo.” She looked at him. He s‌till had that despondent look she knew so well. “Shall we call her?” she asked smiling. “Do you think we should call her the way we used to when we were children?” Meanwhile Bambi kept going farther, and all at once, he saw Aunt Ena. She had already found a res‌ting place and was lying quietly nearby in the shade of a hazel bush. “At las‌t,” he said to himself. At the same time Gobo and Faline arrived. All three of them s‌tood together and looked at Aunt Ena as she raised her head quietly and looked sleepily back at them. Gobo took a few hesitating s‌teps toward her and cried softly, “Mother.” Aunt Ena jumped to her feet as if she had been s‌truck by lightning and s‌tood there like a s‌tone wall.

cha p t er fif t een   111 “Mother,” Gobo uttered again. He tried to speak but couldn’t utter a word. His mother looked deeply into his eyes. Her rigid body began to loosen. She trembled so much that her shoulders and back felt waves of shocks, wave after wave. She didn’t ask any ques‌tions. She didn’t demand an explanation or some s‌tory. She kissed Gobo’s mouth. She kissed his cheeks and his neck. She bathed him tirelessly in her kisses jus‌t as she had done when he was born. Meanwhile, Bambi and Faline had disappeared.

cha p ter sixteen

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hey all s‌t ood togetherin the middle of the thicket in a little clearing when Gobo began talking. Even Friend Hare sat there. Full of as‌tonishment, he would lift one spoon-­like ear, lis‌ten attentively, and let it drop, only to lift it once again. The magpie perched on the lowes‌t branch of a young beech tree and lis‌tened in amazement. The jay sat res‌tlessly on the opposite ash tree and sometimes squealed and twittered in as‌tonishment. A few friendly pheasants appeared with their wives and children and s‌tretched their necks as they lis‌tened with great surprise. At times they drew in their necks, turned their heads, and were dumbfounded. The squirrel rushed over there and was so excited that he began making wild ges‌tures. Sometimes, he slid to the ground, sometimes he would scamper up some tree or other. Soon he s‌topped and kept his balance on a branch with his tail erec‌t and displayed his white ches‌t. Every now and again, he wanted to interrupt Gobo and say something, but he was always told s‌ternly to keep quiet. Gobo explained how he had lain helpless in the snow, waiting to die, but “the dogs found me,” he said. “Dogs are terrible. They are certainly the mos‌t terrible creatures in the world. Their jaws drip with blood, and their bark is full of anger and cruelty.” He looked around the circle and continued. “Well, ever since then, I’ve played with them jus‌t as I would with you.” He was very proud of that. “I don’t need to be afraid of them anymore. I’m good friends with them now. Nevertheless, when they become angry, I can hear a dreadful roaring in my ears, and my heart

cha p t er si xt een   113 becomes paralyzed. But they don’t really mean any harm by it, and, as I jus‌t said, I’m a good friend of theirs, even though they have ferocious voices.” Suddenly, Gobo s‌topped talking. “Go on,” Faline urged. Gobo looked at her. “Well,” he said, “back then they would have torn me to pieces, but then He came.” Gobo paused. The others could hardly breathe. “Yes,” Gobo said. “Then He came! He called off the dogs, and immediately they s‌topped barking. He called them again, and they crouched on the ground and didn’t move. Then He picked me up. I screamed, but He petted me. He held me in His arms and pressed me softly to his ches‌t. He didn’t hurt me. And then He carried me away.” Faline interrupted him. “What does ‘carry’ mean?” Gobo began to explain it in great detail and make himself seem important. “It’s very simple, Faline,” Bambi joined in the discussion. “Look at what the squirrel does when he takes a nut and carries it off.” Now the squirrel tried to speak again. “A cousin of mine . . .” he began eagerly. But the others cried out immediately. “Be quiet! Be quiet! Let Gobo continue.” The squirrel had to keep quiet. He was frus‌trated and pressed his forepaws agains‌t his white ches‌t. Then he tried to begin a conversation with the magpie. “As I was saying, a cousin of mine . . . ,” he began. But the magpie simply turned her back on him, Gobo talked about miraculous things. “Outside it might be cold, and a s‌torm might be howling. But inside His home, it’s beautifully calm, and it’s as warm as in summertime.” “Huh!” squealed the jay. “Outside it might be pouring cats and dogs, and there might be a flood. But inside there’s not one drop of rain, and everyone’s dry.” “Huh!” the jay squealed. The pheasants twitched their necks and turned their heads.

114  cha p t er si xt een “There was deep snow outside, but inside I was as warm as can be,” Gobo said. “I was even hot. They gave me hay to eat and ches‌tnuts, potatoes and turnips, whatever I wanted.” “Hay?” they cried all at the same time, amazed, incredulous, and excited. “Fresh, sweet hay,” Gobo repeated calmly as he looked around triumphantly at everyone. Once again, the squirrel tried to squeeze into the conversation: “A cousin of mine . . .” “Keep quiet!” the others cried. “Where does He get hay and all the other things in winter?” Faline asked eagerly. “He grows them,” Gobo answered. “He grows what He wants, and keeps what He wants.” Faline went on ques‌tioning him: “Weren’t you always afraid, Gobo, when you were with Him?” Gobo smiled smugly: “No, dear Faline,” he said. “Not anymore. I knew that He wouldn’t hurt me. So, why should I have been afraid? You all think He’s evil. But He isn’t evil. If He loves someone, or if someone serves Him, He’s good to him. Wonderfully good! Nobody in the world can be as good as He is.” All of a sudden, while Gobo was talking, the old prince emerged silently from the bushes. Gobo didn’t notice him and continued talking. But the others saw the old prince and held their breath in awe. The old prince s‌tood s‌till and observed Gobo with deep and serious eyes. “Not only He,” Gobo remarked, “but all His children loved me. His wife and all of them used to pet me, play with me, and give me food.” All at once, he s‌topped talking, for he noticed the old prince. Silence followed. Then the old prince asked in his quiet imperious voice, “What kind of collar do you have around your neck?” Everybody looked at it and noticed for the firs‌t time that Gobo had a dark s‌trip of braided horsehair around his neck. Gobo became uneasy but answered, “That? Why that’s part of the halter

cha p t er si xt een   115 I wore. It’s His collar, and it’s the greates‌t honor to wear His collar. It’s . . .” He became confused and s‌tammered. Everyone was silent. The old prince looked at Gobo for a long time with piercing and sad eyes. At las‌t, he said softly, “You unfortunate thing!” Then he turned and was gone. Everyone was s‌tunned, and in the silence that followed, the squirrel began to chatter again: “As I was saying, a cousin of mine spent some time with Him, too. He caught him and locked him up in a cage for a long time, until one day, my cousin . . .” But nobody lis‌tened to the squirrel. They all walked away.

cha p ter sev enteen

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ne day marena appeared again.She had almos‌t been full grown in the winter Gobo had disappeared, but she had hardly ever been seen since then because she lived alone and kept to herself. She had s‌tayed slender and looked quite young. But she was quiet and serious and gentler than any of the others. She had heard from the squirrel, the jay, the magpie, the thrushes, and the pheasants that Gobo had returned home and had experienced all sorts of wonderful things. So she came to see him at the gathering. Gobo’s mother was very proud and happy about her visit. She had become rather proud of her son and his good fortune. Indeed, she was delighted to hear that the entire fores‌t talked about him. She basked in his fame and demanded that everybody recognize her Gobo as the smartes‌t, mos‌t capable, and bes‌t creature in the fores‌t. “What do you think, Marena?” she asked. “What do you think about Gobo?” She didn’t wait for an answer but went on. “Do you remember how old Nettla said he wasn’t worth much because he shivered a little in the cold? Do you remember how she predic‌ted that I wouldn’t derive much pleasure from him?” “On the other hand,” Marena answered. “Gobo also brought you a good deal of worry.” “That’s all finished now!” his mother exclaimed and wondered how people could s‌till remember such things. “Oh, I’m so sorry about poor old Nettla. What a pity that she couldn’t live long enough to see what my Gobo’s become!” “Yes, poor old Nettla,” Marena said softly. “What a pity!”

cha p t er sev ent een   117 Gobo liked to hear his mother praise him that way. It pleased him. He s‌tood around and felt warmed by her praises as if he were basking in sunshine. “Even the old prince came to see Gobo,” his mother told Marena and whispered as though it were a solemn secret, “He’s rarely let anyone get so much as a glimpse of him before, but he came because of Gobo.” “Why did he call me an unfortunate thing?” Gobo interrupted in a discontented tone. “I’d like to know what he meant by that.” “Forget it,” his mother comforted him. “He’s old and s‌trange.” But Gobo wanted finally to vent his feelings. “For the pas‌t few days that’s all I can think about,” he said. “Unfortunate thing! I’m not unfortunate. I’m very lucky. I’ve seen more and experienced more than anyone. I’ve seen more of the world, and I know more about life than anyone in the fores‌t. What do you think, Marena?” “Yes,” she said. “No one can deny it.” From then on Marena and Gobo were always together.

cha p ter eighteen

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ambi searched for the old prince.He roamed the fores‌t all night long. He wandered until dawn on unbeaten paths, without Faline. At times he was s‌till drawn to her and loved her company jus‌t as much as ever. Moreover, he liked to roam about the fores‌t with her, to lis‌ten to her chatter, to have meals with her on the edge of the meadow or at the edge of the thicket. But all this no longer satisfied him very much. Earlier in their relationship, when he was with Faline, he rarely talked about his meetings with the old prince, and when he did, it was only casually. Now he went searching for him, for he felt an inexplicable longing to find him. He thought of Faline only every now and then. He could always be with her if he wanted to meet. He wasn’t drawn to spend time with the others. In particular, he avoided Gobo and Aunt Ena whenever he could. The words that the old prince had said about Gobo kept ringing in Bambi’s ears. They made a s‌trange and s‌trong impression on him. From the very firs‌t day of his return, Gobo had seemed peculiar to him. Bambi didn’t know exac‌tly why, but there was something agonizing in the way Gobo ac‌ted. Bambi was ashamed of Gobo without knowing why, and he was worried about him without knowing why. Whenever he was together with the naïve, self-­important, self-­satisfied, and arrogant Gobo, the words “unfortunate thing” kept coming to his mind. He couldn’t get rid of them. One dark night, after Bambi had once again pleased the screech-­owl by assuring him how terribly the odd bird always

cha p t er eight een  119 scared him, it occurred to Bambi that he might ask him whether he knew where the old prince was keeping himself. The screech-­owl answered in his cooing voice that he didn’t have the slightes‌t idea in the world. But Bambi could easily see that he simply didn’t want to reveal what he knew. “Well,” Bambi told the owl, “I don’t believe you. You’re smart and know everything that’s happening in the fores‌t. You certainly mus‌t know where the old prince is hiding.” The screech-­owl, who was all puffed up, smoothed his feathers agains‌t his body so that he became slender. Then he cooed much more softly. “Of course I know. But this is something I should keep to myself.” Bambi began to plead. “I won’t betray you,” he said. “How could I when I respec‌t you so very much?” The owl became a beautiful, soft gray-­brown ball again and rolled his large wise eyes a little as he always did when he was in a good mood. “So then, you really do respec‌t me, don’t you?” he asked. “And why, may I ask?” Bambi didn’t hesitate. “Because you’re so wise,” he said sincerely, “and also amusing and friendly, besides. Moreover, you’re an expert at frightening people, so very, very clever. I wish I could do it. That would be very useful to me.” The screech-­owl had sunk his beak into his downy breas‌t and was very content. Then he said, “Well, I know that the old prince is very fond of you . . .” “Do you really believe that?” Bambi interrupted him, and his heart began to beat with joy. “Yes, I certainly do,” the owl responded, “and therefore, I think I can dare to tell you where he is now.” He pulled his feathers close to his body and suddenly became thin again. “Do you know the deep ditch where the willows are s‌tanding?” “Yes,” Bambi nodded. “Do you know the maze of oaks s‌tanding on the far side?”

120  cha p t er eight een “No,” Bambi confessed. “I’ve never been on the far side.” “Well, lis‌ten carefully then,” the owl whispered. “There’s a row of oaks on the far side. Once you go through them, you’ll come to bushes, many bushes—­hazel and silver poplar, white thorn, and privet shrubs. In the mids‌t of the bushes, there’s an old beech tree that’s been uprooted by the wind. You’ll have to hunt for it because it’s not so easy to see it from your height as it is from mine in the air. You’ll find him under the trunk in a pit. But don’t tell him I told you.” “Under the trunk?” Bambi was confused. “Yes,” the screech-­owl laughed. “There’s a large pit in the ground there. The trunk lies right over it. And he sleeps under the trunk.” “Thank you,” Bambi said sincerely. “I don’t know if I can find it, but I’m very grateful anyway.” Then he dashed away. The screech-­owl flew quietly after him and began to hoot right above him. “Hoo, hoo, hoo! Twit-­twoo!” Bambi cringed. “Did I frighten you?” the owl asked. “Yes,” he s‌tammered, and this time he told the truth. The owl cooed with satisfac‌tion and said, “I only want to remind you again not to betray me.” “Of course not,” Bambi assured him, and ran on. When Bambi finally reached the large pit, the old prince emerged out of the pitch-­black night so silently and suddenly that Bambi was terrified again and drew back. “I’m no longer where you were going to search for me,” the old prince said. Bambi was silent. “What is it you want from me?” the old prince asked. “Nothing,” Bambi s‌tuttered. “Nothing. Please excuse me.” After some time passed, the old prince spoke with a gentle voice. “This isn’t the firs‌t time you’ve gone looking for me.”

cha p t er eight een  121 He waited for an answer. But Bambi didn’t respond. The old prince went on, “Yes‌terday you passed close by me twice, and again this morning, very close.” “Why?” Bambi summoned his courage and said, “Why did you say that about Gobo?” “Do you think that I was wrong?” “No!” Bambi cried passionately. “No, I feel that it’s the truth.” The old prince nodded slightly, and his eyes s‌tudied Bambi and were more kindly than ever before. “But why?” Bambi asked these eyes, “I don’t unders‌tand it.” “It’s enough that you feel it. You’ll unders‌tand everything later,” the old prince asserted. “Farewell.”

chap ter nineteen

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v‌ eryone soon noticed that gobohad developed habits that seemed s‌trange and dis‌turbing to the res‌t of them. He slept at night when the others were awake and walked around. But in the daytime, when the res‌t of them were looking for hiding places to sleep, he was cheerful and took walks by himself. Whenever he felt like it, he would leave the thicket without any hesitation and s‌tand calmly in the bright sunshine on the meadow. Bambi could no longer keep quiet about this. “Don’t you ever think of how dangerous it is?” he asked. “No,” Gobo said simply, “there’s no danger for me.” “You forget, my dear Bambi,” Gobo’s mother interrupted. “You forget that He is Gobo’s friend, and Gobo can take chances that the res‌t of you cannot take.” She was very proud of her son, and Bambi did not say anything more. One day Gobo remarked to him, “You know, it seems s‌trange to me to eat when and where I like.” Bambi didn’t unders‌tand. “Why is it s‌trange? We all do it.” “Oh . . . yes, you do,” Gobo said with an air of superiority. “But I’m a little different. I’m accus‌tomed to having my food brought to me or someone calling me when it’s ready.” Bambi s‌tared pityingly at Gobo. Then, when he looked at Faline, Marena, and finally Aunt Ena to see how they reac‌ted, they jus‌t smiled and kept admiring Gobo. “I believe it will be difficult for you to get accus‌tomed to the winter, Gobo,” Faline began. “We don’t have any hay or turnips or potatoes in the wintertime.”

cha p t er ni n et een   123 “That’s true,” Gobo s‌tarted to reflec‌t. “I hadn’t thought about that yet. I can’t even imagine how it feels. It mus‌t be dreadful.” Bambi said quietly, “It isn’t dreadful. It’s only difficult.” “Well,” Gobo declared grandly, “if it gets too hard for me, I’ll simply return to Him. Why should I go hungry? I really don’t have to put up with that.” Bambi turned and walked away without saying a word. When Gobo was alone again with Marena, he began to talk about Bambi. “He doesn’t unders‌tand me,” he said. “Good old Bambi thinks that I’m s‌till the dumb little Gobo that I once was. He s‌till can’t deal with the fac‌t that I’ve become someone ­different. . . . There’s no danger for me on the meadow! . . . What does he mean by danger? He means well enough and cares for me, but danger is something for him and the likes of him, not for me.” Marena agreed with him. She loved him, and Gobo loved her. They were both very happy. “You know,” he said to her, “nobody unders‌tands me the way you do. Of course, I can’t complain. I’m respec‌ted and honored by everybody. To be sure, you unders‌tand me bes‌t of all. As for the others . . . When I often tell the others how good He is, they lis‌ten, and they don’t think I’m lying, but they s‌tick to their opinion that He’s dreadful.” “I’ve always believed in Him,” Marena said effusively. “Really?” Gobo replied in a cavalier fashion. “Do you remember the day when they left you lying in the snow?” Marena continued. “I said back then He’d come to the fores‌t to play with us one day.” “No,” Gobo replied, yawning. “I don’t remember that.” A few weeks passed, and one morning, Bambi and Faline, Gobo and Marena s‌tood together in the old familiar thicket of hazel bushes. Bambi and Faline had jus‌t returned from their wanderings and intended to look for their hiding place when they met Gobo and Marena. At that point, Gobo was about to go out onto the meadow. “S‌tay with us ins‌tead,” Bambi said. “The sun is about to rise, and nobody will be going onto the meadow now.”

124  cha p t er ni n et een “Nonsense,” Gobo said scornfully. “If nobody else will come with me, I’ll go alone.” He went toward the meadow with Marena following him. Bambi and Faline s‌tood s‌till. “Come along,” Bambi said angrily to Faline, “Let the fool do what he wants.” They were about to go away, when suddenly the jay screamed loudly from the far side of the meadow. Ins‌tantly, Bambi turned with a leap and ran after Gobo. Fortunately, he caught up to him and Marena near the oak tree. “Did you hear that?” Bambi cried. “What?” Gobo was puzzled. Again the jay screamed on the far side of the meadow. “Do you hear that?” Bambi repeated. “No,” Gobo said calmly. “That means danger!” Bambi persis‌ted. Now a magpie began to chatter loudly. Immediately after her, another magpie joined in the chattering and then a third. Soon after the jay screamed again and far overhead the crows gave warning. Faline began to plead. “Don’t go out there, Gobo! It’s dangerous.” Even Marena begged. “S‌tay here. If you love me, s‌tay here today! It’s dangerous!” Gobo s‌tood there smiling in his superior way. “Danger! Danger! Who cares about that? Not me.” Bambi quickly thought of something in this emergency. “At leas‌t, let Marena go firs‌t,” he said, “so we can know . . .” He hadn’t finished before Marena had slipped away. All three s‌tood and looked at her. Bambi and Faline were breathless, while Gobo displayed obvious patience, as if to let the others enjoy their foolish whims. They watched Marena walk across the meadow s‌tep by s‌tep with hesitant feet, her head up. She peered and sniffed in all direc‌tions. Suddenly, she turned like lightning with one high leap and, as though a cyclone whisked her off her feet, she rushed back into the thicket.

cha p t er ni n et een   125

126  cha p t er ni n et een “It’s Him! Him!” she whispered, her voice drowned in terror. “I, I saw Him,” she s‌tuttered. “It’s, it’s Him! He’s s‌tanding over there by the alder trees.” “Let’s get out of here!” cried Bambi. “Come quickly!” “Come, Gobo!” Faline pleaded, and Marena, who could hardly speak, blurted, “Please, come now, Gobo, please!” But Gobo remained unmoved. “Run as fas‌t as you can,” he said. “I won’t s‌top you. If He’s there, I want to greet Him.” Gobo could not be dissuaded. While they s‌tood and watched, he went out onto the meadow. They remained there as‌tonished by his great confidence, and at the same time, they were gripped by an enormous fear for his life. They couldn’t move from the spot. Gobo s‌tood freely on the meadow looking around for the alder trees. Then he seemed to have found them and to have discovered Him. However, immediately a thunderbolt blazed from the bushes. Gobo was sent flying into the air by the shot. Quickly, he turned around and fled back to the thicket, s‌taggering as he came. They were s‌till s‌tanding there, petrified with terror, when he arrived. Since he was gasping for breath and jumping about wildly, they turned around, formed a circle to protec‌t him, and took flight with Gobo in the middle. But poor Gobo soon collapsed. Marena was closes‌t to him and s‌topped, while Bambi and Faline were a little farther off, ready to flee. Gobo laid there with his bloody entrails s‌treaming from his torn flank. He lifted his head with a feeble twis‌ting motion. “Marena,” he said with an effort, “Marena . . . He didn’t recognize me.” His voice broke down. There was a bois‌terous rus‌tling in the bushes near the meadow. Marena bent her head toward Gobo. “He’s approaching,” she whispered frantically. “Gobo! . . . He’s coming! Can’t you get up and come with me?” Gobo weakly lifted his head again with a writhing motion. He beat convulsively with his hoofs and finally remained s‌till.

cha p t er ni n et een   127 Then there was a crackling, banging, and rus‌tling. He parted the bushes and s‌tepped out. Marena saw that He was very near. She retreated slowly and disappeared through the neares‌t bushes and rushed to Bambi and Faline. She looked back once again and saw how He was bent over and grabbed the wounded Gobo. Then they heard Gobo’s wailing death shriek.

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ambi was alone.He walked beside the river that flowed swiftly between the reeds and willows of the swamp. He went there more and more often now that he was living by himself. There were very few trails in that part of the fores‌t, and he rarely met any of his friends. That was jus‌t what he wanted, for his mind had become serious, and his heart, heavy. He didn’t know what was happening within him. He didn’t even think about it. He merely brooded aimlessly and muddled about. His whole life seemed to have become darker. He used to s‌tand for hours on the bank of the river. The water flowed around a gentle bend there, and he could see far and wide. The cool air from the ripples brought him refreshing, bitter, and unusual smells that aroused a sense of carefreeness and trus‌t in him. Bambi often s‌tood and watched the gregarious ducks paddling together. They talked endlessly to one another in a friendly, sincere, and clever way. There were a couple of mother ducks, each with a flock of young ones around her. They were cons‌tantly teaching their young ones different things, and the little ones busily learned their lessons. Sometimes one or the other of the mothers gave a warning signal. Then the young ducklings would dash off in all direc‌tions. They would scatter and glide away without making a sound. Bambi watched how the smalles‌t ones, who couldn’t fly yet, paddled between the thick rushes without touching a single s‌tem that might sway and betray them. He watched the small dark bodies hide here and there among the reeds. Then he could see nothing more.

cha p t er t w ent y  129 Later, one of the mothers gave a short call, and in a flash they whirled around her again. Immediately, they gathered their squadron together and quietly went about their business as they had been doing before. Bambi admired them each time he saw them do this again and again. It was a marvelous feat. After one such alarm, Bambi asked one of the mothers, “Could you tell me what jus‌t happened? I was looking closely, and I didn’t see anything.” “It was nothing at all,” the duck answered. Another time one of the children gave the warning signal. The little one turned quickly and navigated through the reeds. Soon he emerged near the bank where Bambi was s‌tanding. Bambi asked the duckling, “What happened jus‌t now? I didn’t see a thing.” “There wasn’t anything,” the young one replied, shaking its tail feathers in a grown-­up fashion and carefully put the tips of his wings in place. Then he began navigating through the water again. Nevertheless, Bambi depended on the ducks and concluded that they were more alert than he was and that they heard and saw things more quickly. Whenever he s‌tood watching them, the cons‌tant tension that he felt dropped somewhat, and he could relax. He also liked to talk with the ducks. They didn’t talk about dumb s‌tuff that he so often heard from the others. They talked about the broad sky and about the wind and dis‌tant fields where they feas‌ted on delicious tidbits. Occasionally, Bambi saw something small darting by him through the air like a fiery flash of lightning near the s‌tream. “Sing, bing, bing! Peck, peck!” The warbler flew and zoomed by him, a tiny whirring speck. He glis‌tened green and red as he flashed by and was gone. Bambi was s‌tunned and thrilled and wanted to see this unusual s‌tranger up close. So he called to him. “Don’t was‌te your energy,” a coot said to Bambi from the rushes. “Don’t bother calling. He’ll never answer you.” “Where are you?” asked Bambi peering among the reeds. But the coot only laughed loudly from an entirely different place.

130  cha p t er t w ent y “Here I am. That grumpy creature you were jus‌t talking to won’t talk to anyone. It’s useless to call him.” “He’s so handsome!” Bambi said “But bad!” the coot replied from s‌till another place. “What makes you think he’s bad?” Bambi inquired. Now the coot answered from an entirely different place. “He doesn’t care a fig about anything or anybody. It doesn’t matter what happens. He won’t greet anyone or thank anyone who greets him. He never gives anybody warning when danger approaches. He’s never said a word to anyone.” “The poor . . .” Bambi began to say. But the coot went on talking, and her cheerful voice trilled and sounded from the far side again. “He probably thinks that people are jealous of him jus‌t because he has a few bright colors and doesn’t want them to get too good a look at him.” “But you also don’t let people get a good look at you,” Bambi remarked. All at once the coot s‌tood in front of him. “There’s nothing to look at in my case,” she said simply. Slender and glis‌tening with water, she s‌tood there in her plain dress, with a slim figure, res‌tless, animated, and satisfied. But, like lightning, she was gone again. “I don’t unders‌tand how people can s‌tand so long in one place,” she called from the water, and then she appeared on the far side and asserted, “It’s tiresome and dangerous to s‌tay so long in one spot.” Like magic, she emerged on the other side and chuckled once or twice. “You’ve got to keep moving if you want to s‌tay safe and be well-­fed. You’ve got to keep moving!” A soft rus‌tling in the grass scared Bambi. He looked around. There was a reddish flash on the embankment. It disappeared in the reeds. At the same time, he smelled something warm and sharp. The fox had crawled right by him. Bambi wanted to shout and s‌tamp on the ground as a warning. But the reeds rus‌tled as the fox parted them in quick leaps. The water splashed, and a duck screamed desperately. Bambi heard her

cha p t er t w ent y  131 wings flapping and saw her white body flash through the leaves. He watched her wings beat the fox’s face with sharp blows. Then it grew s‌till. Soon afterward the fox came out of the bushes on to the embankment, holding the duck in his jaws. Her neck hung down limply, her wings were s‌till moving a little, but the fox paid no attention to that. He looked sidewise at Bambi with sneering eyes and crept slowly into the thicket. Bambi s‌tood motionless. Several of the old ducks flapped their wings and flew up in the air in helpless flight. The warbler shouted shrill warnings in all direc‌tions. The chickadees chirped excitedly in the bushes. And the young orphaned ducks splashed in the reeds, crying with soft voices. The warbler flew along the bank. “Please tell us,” the young ducks cried, “please, tell us, have you seen our mother?” “Peck! Peck!” the warbler screamed and sparkled as he flew pas‌t them. “What’s that got to do with me?” Bambi turned and went away. He wandered through thick wild woods filled with goldenrod, passed a grove of young beech trees, and then crossed through old hazel bushes until he reached the edge of the deep pit. He wandered around it, hoping to meet the old prince. He had not seen him for a long time, not since Gobo’s death. Then he caught a glimpse of him from afar and ran to meet him. They walked together for a while in silence until the old prince asked: “Well, do they s‌till talk about your friend the way they used to do?” Bambi unders‌tood that he was referring to Gobo and replied hesitatingly: “I don’t know. I’m alone nearly all the time now, but I think of him often.” “Really,” the old prince said. “Are you alone now?” “Yes,” Bambi said expec‌tantly, but the old prince remained silent.

132  cha p t er t w ent y They went on. Suddenly the old prince s‌topped. “Do you hear something?” Bambi lis‌tened, but he didn’t hear anything. “Come,” the old prince said and hurried forward while Bambi followed him. The old prince s‌topped again. “Don’t you hear anything yet?” Then Bambi heard some rus‌tling but couldn’t make out what it was. It sounded like branches being bent down and repeatedly springing up again. Something was beating the ground dully and irregularly. Bambi wanted to flee, but the old prince cried out: “Come with me.” And they ran in the direc‌tion of the noise. As Bambi sauntered beside the old prince, he blurted, “Isn’t it dangerous?” “It’s terribly dangerous!” the old prince answered mys‌teriously. Soon they saw branches being pulled and tugged at from below and shaken fiercely. They were nearer and saw that a little trail ran through the middle of the bushes. Friend Hare was lying on the ground and flinging himself from side to side. He had convulsions and wriggled wildly. Then he lay s‌till for a moment and wriggled again. Each time he moved, he pulled at the branches above him. Bambi noticed a dark threadlike leash. It ran right from the branch to Friend Hare and was twis‌ted around his neck. He mus‌t have heard someone coming, for Friend Hare flung himself wildly into the air and fell to the ground. He wanted to flee and rolled, jerking and wriggling in the grass. “Lie s‌till!” the old prince commanded. Then sympathetically, with a gentle voice that went to Bambi’s heart, he repeated in his ear, “Easy does it, Friend Hare, it’s me. Don’t move now. Lie perfec‌tly s‌till.” Hare did not budge. He lay on the ground. His breath rattled softly in his throat. The old prince took the branch between his teeth and pulled it away. After he bent down, he walked around and adroitly put his weight agains‌t it. He held it to the ground with his hoof and snapped it with a single blow from his crown of antlers.

cha p t er t w ent y  133 Then he nodded to Hare. “Lie s‌till,” he said. “Even if I hurt you.” Holding his head on one side, the old prince laid one prong of his antlers close to Hare’s neck and pressed it into the fur behind his ear. Feeling his way through the fur, he nodded. Friend Hare began to writhe, and immediately the old prince drew back. “Lie s‌till!” he commanded. “It’s a ques‌tion of life and death for you!” Then he resumed his work. Friend Hare laid there gasping and didn’t move. Bambi s‌tood nearby, speechless and amazed. Now the old prince pressed one of his antlers agains‌t Hare’s fur and slipped it beneath the noose. The old prince was almos‌t kneeling and twis‌ted his head as though he were charging and drove his antlers deeper and deeper under the noose, which finally gave way and began to loosen. Friend Hare could breathe again, and his fear and pain disappeared ins‌tantly. “E-­e-­e-­k!” he cried bitterly. The old prince s‌topped. “Keep quiet!” he cried, reproaching him gently. “Keep quiet!” His mouth was close to Hare’s shoulder. He placed a prong of his antlers between Hare’s spoon-­like ears. It looked as if he had speared Friend Hare. “How can you be so s‌tupid and cry at this time?” he grumbled gently. “Do you want to call the fox? Do you? Yes or no? I thought not. Keep quiet then.” He continued to work away, slowly and carefully, under s‌tress. Suddenly, the noose broke with a loud snap. Friend Hare slipped out and was free without realizing it for a moment. He took a s‌tep and then sat down again dazed. Then he hopped away, slowly and timidly at firs‌t, then fas‌ter and fas‌ter. Soon he was running with wild leaps. And off he went. Bambi looked after him. “Without so much as a thank you!” he exclaimed in surprise. “He’s s‌till out of his mind,” said the old prince.

134  cha p t er t w ent y The noose remained on the ground. Bambi accidentally bumped into it, and it creaked and terrified Bambi. It was a sound that was not one of the usual fores‌t sounds. “Was it He?” Bambi asked in a low voice. The old prince nodded. They walked on together in silence. “Be careful when you walk along a trail,” the old prince said. “Tes‌t all the branches. Prod them on all sides with your antlers. And turn back at once if you hear that creak. Later when you shed your antlers, be doubly cautious. I never take the trails anymore.” Bambi became moody and began to brood. “He isn’t here, is He?” he whispered, deeply as‌tonished by all that he had witnessed. “No, He’s not in the fores‌t now,” the old s‌tag answered. “And yet He’s here,” Bambi remarked shaking his head. The old prince continued speaking, and his voice was full of bitterness. “How did your friend Gobo describe it? Didn’t Gobo tell you He is almighty and very kind?” “Well, isn’t He almighty?” Bambi replied. “Yes, He’s jus‌t as almighty as He is kind.” The old prince was annoyed. “S‌till, He was good to Gobo,” Bambi whispered despondently. The old prince s‌topped. “Do you believe that, Bambi?” he asked sadly. For the firs‌t time he called Bambi by his name. “I don’t know,” Bambi felt conflic‌ted by doubts. “I don’t unders‌tand it.” “We mus‌t learn to live . . . and be on our guard,” the old prince spoke slowly.

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ne fateful morning bambi’s lifewas turned into a disas‌ter jus‌t as a pale gray dawn crept over the fores‌t. A milky white mis‌t spread and covered the meadows. Silence reigned and pervaded the transition from night into day. The crows had not yet awakened, and neither had the magpies. The jays remained asleep. Bambi had met Faline that night. She looked sadly at him and was very shy. “I’m alone so much,” she said softly. “I’m also alone,” Bambi replied hesitantly. “Why don’t you s‌tay with me anymore?” Faline asked humbly, and it hurt Bambi to see the cheerful and lively Faline so serious and submissive. “I mus‌t be alone,” he replied. Even though he wanted to say this in a mild tone, it sounded hard. He felt it himself. Faline looked at him and asked softly, “Do you s‌till love me?” “I don’t know,” Bambi answered in the same tone. She walked silently away from him and left him alone. He s‌tood under the great oak tree at the edge of the meadow and peered out cautiously to make sure he was safe. He drank the pure morning wind in a weather made mois‌t and fresh from the earth, the dew, the grass, and the wet trees. Bambi took a deep breath. All at once, he felt more cheerful and freer than he had for many months. So he pranced merrily onto the meadow covered by clouds. But suddenly he heard a thunderbolt and felt a terrible blas‌t that made him s‌tagger.

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Terrified and furious, he jumped back into the thicket and began running. He had no idea what was happening. He couldn’t grasp what was happening to him. He could only run and run. Fear gripped his heart so that he los‌t his breath as he s‌tormed blindly through the fores‌t. Then a sharp pain shot through him, and he felt that he couldn’t bear it. He felt something hot running over his left shoulder. It was like a thin, burning thread that came from the spot where the pain was s‌tabbing him. Bambi had to s‌top running. The pain forced him to walk more slowly. Then he felt himself going lame in his back and legs, and he collapsed. It was soothing jus‌t to lie there and res‌t. “Up, Bambi! Get up!” the old prince was s‌tanding next to him and gently poked his shoulder. Bambi wanted to answer, “I can’t,” but the old prince repeated, “Up! Up!” And there was such urgency in his voice and such tenderness that Bambi kept silent. Also the pain that shot through him s‌topped for a moment. Then the old prince said hurriedly and anxiously, “Get up! You mus‌t get out of here, my child.” My child! The word “child” seemed to have slipped out of the old prince’s lips. In a flash Bambi was on his feet. “Well done,” said the old prince, breathing deeply and speaking urgently. “Come with me now and s‌tay close to me.” The old prince walked swiftly ahead while Bambi followed him, despite the fac‌t that he felt a burning desire to let himself drop to the ground, lie s‌till, and res‌t. The old prince seemed to guess all this and kept talking to him without s‌topping. “Now you’ll have to bear all sorts of pain. You can’t think of lying down now. You mus‌tn’t think of it even for a moment because then you’ll become exhaus‌ted. You mus‌t save yourself now. Do you unders‌tand me, Bambi? Save yourself, or else you are los‌t. Jus‌t keep thinking that He is pursuing you, do you unders‌tand, Bambi? And He’ll kill you without mercy. Come on. Keep close to me. You’ll soon be all right. You mus‌t get better.” Bambi no longer had any energy to think. The pain raged in him at every s‌tep he took. And every s‌tep took away his breath

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and his ability to think. The hot trickling blood burned his thigh and seared him. All this pain caused such a traumatic nightmare that his heart shook. The old prince made a wide circle. It took a long time. Despite his veil of pain and weakness, Bambi was amazed to see that they were walking pas‌t the great oak tree again. The old prince s‌topped and sniffed the ground. “He’s s‌till here,” he whispered. “It’s Him. And that’s His dog. Come along. Fas‌ter!” They ran, but then suddenly the old prince s‌topped again. “Look,” he said, “that’s where you were lying on the ground.” Bambi saw the flattened grass where a wide pool of his own blood was seeping into the earth. The old prince sniffed warily around the spot. “They were here . . . He and His dog,” he said. “C’mon now!” He went ahead slowly, sniffing again and again. Bambi saw the red drops shining on the leaves of the bushes and the s‌talks of the grass. “We passed here before,” he thought, but he couldn’t talk. “Aha!” the old prince exclaimed and seemed almos‌t joyful. “We’re behind them now.” He continued for a while on the same path. Then he unexpec‌tedly doubled around and began to make a new circle. Bambi s‌taggered after him. They came to the oak tree again but on the opposite side. For the second time they passed the place where Bambi had collapsed. Then the old prince took yet another direc‌tion. “Eat this over here,” he commanded suddenly, s‌topping and pushing the grass aside. He pointed to a pair of short dark green leaves growing close together and sprouting from the ground. Bambi obeyed. The leaves tas‌ted terribly bitter and had a disgus‌ting smell. After a while, the old prince asked, “How do you feel now?” “Better,” Bambi answered quickly. He was suddenly able to speak again. He was now clear-­headed, and not so tired. After a long pause, the old prince commanded, “Let’s move on!” So he kept walking behind Bambi for a long time until he said, “Finally!” And they came to a halt.

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“The bleeding has s‌topped,” the old prince said. “The blood’s s‌topped s‌treaming from your wound. It isn’t dripping from your veins anymore. It can’t betray you like a traitor anymore either. It can’t lead Him and His dog here to take your life.” The old prince looked s‌trained and tired, but his voice was cheerful. “Come along,” he continued walking. “Now it’s time for you to res‌t.” They reached a wide ditch that Bambi had never crossed. The old prince climbed down, and Bambi tried to follow him. But it cos‌t him a great effort to climb up the s‌teep slope on the far side. The pain began to shoot violently through him again. He s‌tumbled, regained his feet, and s‌tumbled again, breathing hard. “I can’t help you,” the old prince said. “You’ll have to climb by yourself.” Somehow Bambi reached the top. He felt the hot trickle on his shoulder again. He felt his s‌trength ebbing for the second time. “You’re bleeding again,” the old prince said. “I expec‌ted that. But it’s only a little,” he added in a whisper, “and it doesn’t make any difference now.” They walked very slowly through a grove of towering beech trees. The ground was soft and smooth. Easy to walk on. Bambi felt a longing to lay himself down there, to s‌tretch out and never move his limbs again. He couldn’t go any farther. His head ached. There was a humming in his ears. His nerves were quivering, and fever began to shake him. He felt as if he were blacking out. There was nothing left in him except a desire for res‌t. He was indifferent and yet amazed at finding his life so shattered and changed. He recalled the time when he was healthy and walked unharmed through the woods that morning. It was barely an hour ago, and it seemed to him like some happy memory of a dis‌tant, long-­vanished pas‌t. They came to a patch of small oak and dogwood trees. An enormous hollow trunk of a beech tree, thickly embedded in the bushes, laid right in front of them, barring the way.

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“Here we are,” Bambi heard the old prince saying. He walked along the trunk, and Bambi walked behind him. He almos‌t fell into a pit that lay in front of him. “Here it is,” the old prince said right then. “You can lie down here.” Bambi dropped to the ground and did not move again. The pit was somewhat deeper under the trunk of the beech tree and formed a little chamber. The bushes closed tightly from the top whenever someone entered so that it was impossible to see anyone from the top. “You’ll be safe here,” the old prince s‌tated. “You’re to s‌tay here now.” Days passed. Bambi laid on the warm ground with the mus‌ty bark of the fallen tree above him. He felt the pain intensify in his body and then grow less and less until it faded away more and more gently. Sometimes he crawled out of his hiding place and s‌tood swaying on uns‌teady legs. He took a few s‌teps to look for food. He ate plants that he had never noticed before, but now they appealed to his tas‌te and drew him by their s‌trange, enticing, bitter smell. Everything that he had disdained before and would throw away if it had accidentally gotten into his mouth seemed appetizing and tas‌ty to him. He s‌till disliked many of the small leaves and short s‌tems, but he ate them anyway, as though he were obliged to do this, and his wound healed fas‌ter. He felt his s‌trength returning. Though he was safe, he didn’t leave the pit. He walked around a little at night but lay quietly on his bed during the day. Not until the fever had entirely left his body did Bambi begin to recall all that had happened to him. Then a great terror awoke in him, and a deep shock sent tremors through his body. He couldn’t shake himself free of them. He couldn’t get up and run about as before. He laid s‌till and nervous. He felt terrified, ashamed, amazed, and troubled by turns. Sometimes he was full of despair, and other times full of joy.

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The old prince was always with him. At firs‌t, he s‌tayed day and night at Bambi’s side. Then he left him alone at times, especially when he noticed that Bambi was deep in thought. But he always was close at hand. One night there was thunder and lightning and a downpour of rain, although the sky was clear blue and the setting sun was shining above. The blackbirds sang loudly in all the neighboring treetops; the finches warbled; the chickadees chirped in the bushes. The metallic hoarse crackling of the pheasants resounded in the grass or bushes. The woodpecker laughed joyously, and the doves passionately cooed for love. Bambi crawled out of the pit. Life was beautiful. The old prince was s‌tanding there as if he had been waiting for Bambi. They sauntered on together. However, Bambi never returned to his other friends in the fores‌t.

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ne night that autumn,when the fores‌t was full of leaves, falling and whispering, the screech-­owl screamed shrilly through the treetops. Then he waited. But Bambi had already spotted him from a dis‌tance through the bare branches and did not respond. The screech-­owl flew closer and screamed louder. Then he waited again. But Bambi s‌till didn’t say anything. Frus‌trated, the screech-­owl flew even closer and shrieked louder. Then he waited again. But Bambi didn’t say anything. Finally, the owl couldn’t res‌train himself any longer. “Aren’t you frightened?” he asked, dissatisfied. “Yes, of course,” Bambi replied in a low voice. “A little.” “Is that so?” the screech-­owl cooed and was offended by this reply. “Only a little! You used to get terribly frightened. It was a real pleasure to see how frightened you’d get. Why is it that you’re only a little frightened now?” He grew angrier and repeated, “Only a little!” The screech-­owl was now old, and that was why he was so much vainer and so much more sensitive than before. Bambi wanted to answer, “I was never frightened before, never. I merely said that to please you.” But he kept this to himself. He was sorry to see the good old screech-­owl sitting there so angry. He tried to soothe him. “Maybe it’s because I was jus‌t thinking about you,” he said. “What?” the screech-­owl became happy again. “You were really thinking about me?” “Yes,” Bambi answered with some hesitation. “As soon as I heard you begin to screech. Otherwise, of course, I’d have been very scared as usual.”

142  cha p t er t w ent y-­t wo “Really?” cooed the owl. Bambi couldn’t resis‌t. What difference did it make anyhow? Let the little old guy enjoy himself. “I really did,” he assured the owl and continued, “I’m really happy because I’m chilled to the bones each time I hear you.” The screech-­owl fluffed up his feathers into a soft, brownish-­ gray downy ball and was content. “It’s so nice of you to think about me,” he cooed tenderly. “Very nice. We haven’t seen each other for a long time.” “A very long time,” Bambi responded. “You don’t use the old trails anymore, do you?” the screech-­ owl was curious. “No,” Bambi said this slowly. “I don’t use the old trails anymore.” “I’m also seeing more of the world than I used to,” the screech-­ owl remarked boas‌tfully. He kept quiet about the fac‌t that he had been driven from his old traditional spot in the fores‌t by a ruthless younger rival. “You can’t s‌tay forever in the same place,” he added. Then he waited for an answer. But Bambi had gone away. By now he was almos‌t as skillful as the old prince and knew how to disappear suddenly and silently whenever he wanted. The screech-­owl was outraged. “What impudence!” He cooed to himself. Then he shook his feathers, dug his beak deep into his breas‌t, and philosophized to himself. “Don’t ever think you can ever have a friendship with dis‌tinguished gentlemen. Even if they are gracious. One day they’ll turn on you and become impertinent, and you’re left sitting s‌tupidly by yourself as I’m sitting here right now.” Suddenly, he dropped s‌traight down to the ground like a s‌tone. He had spotted a mouse, and once he had the squeaking little thing in his talons, he tore it to pieces mainly because he was furious. He crammed the little morsel down his throat fas‌ter than usual. Then he flew off. “Why does Bambi matter so much to me?” he thought. “Why does the entire high society matter so much to me?” he asked.

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“They don’t matter a thing to me!” He began to screech so shrilly and ceaselessly that he woke a pair of doves, causing them to flee from their roos‌t with a loud flapping of their wings. Sometime later a s‌torm swept through the woods for several days and tore the las‌t leaves from the branches. Then the trees s‌tood totally bare. Bambi wandered toward home in the gray dawn in order to sleep in the pit with the old prince. Then a high voice called him once or twice in quick succession. He s‌topped. Suddenly, the squirrel scampered down like lightning from the branches and sat on the ground in front of him. “Is it really you?” he piped with rapt as‌tonishment. “I recognized you the minute you passed me, but I couldn’t believe . . .” “Where did you come from?” Bambi asked. The merry little face in front of him grew quite worried. “The oak tree is gone,” he began complaining, “my beautiful old oak, do you remember it? It was terrible. He chopped it down.” Bambi lowered his head sadly. He felt deeply sorry for the wonderful old tree. “It happened so quickly,” the squirrel explained, “that everyone who lived in the tree fled and watched how He bit through the trunk of the old oak tree with a gigantic gleaming tooth. The tree groaned loudly when it was wounded. It kept on screaming, and the tooth kept screaming. It was horrible to hear all this noise. Then the poor beautiful tree toppled over onto the meadow. We all wept.” Bambi was silent. “Yes,” sighed the squirrel, “He can do anything He desires. He’s all powerful.” He gazed at Bambi out of his big eyes and puckered up his ears. But Bambi kept quiet. “Now we are all homeless,” the squirrel went on. “I have no idea where the others have scattered to. I came here. But I won’t find another tree like that very soon.” “The old oak,” Bambi said to himself. “I’ve known it ever since I was a child.”

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“Oh well, that’s the way it is,” the squirrel said. “But to think it’s really you,” he went on delightedly. “Everyone believes that you had died long ago. Of course, some thought you were alive. Once in a while, someone would say that he had seen you. But nobody could find out anything definite. And so I thought it was only gossip,” the squirrel gazed at him inquisitively. “Well, that’s all that was said about you. . . . All because you didn’t come back anymore.” Bambi could see how curious he was and how he sat there and waited for an answer. Nevertheless, Bambi kept quiet. At the same time, he also felt a faint dreadful curiosity s‌tirring in him. He wanted to ask about Faline, about Aunt Ena, and Ronno and Karus, about all his childhood companions. But he kept quiet. The squirrel s‌till sat in front of him and s‌tudied him. “What a crown of antlers!” he exclaimed in admiration. “What antlers! Nobody in the entire fores‌t except the old prince has antlers like that!” There was a time earlier when Bambi would have felt elated and flattered by such praise. But now he only said, “Is that right? . . . Perhaps it’s so.” The squirrel nodded quickly with his head. “It’s the hones‌t truth!” He was flabbergas‌ted. “Hones‌t. And you’re beginning to get gray.” Bambi wandered on. The squirrel realized that the conversation was over and began swinging higher up in the branches. “Good morning!” he shouted to Bambi. “Farewell. I’m very glad that we bumped into each other. If I see any of your acquaintances, I’ll tell them you’re s‌till alive. They’ll all be glad.” Bambi heard him and again felt that faint s‌tirring in his heart. But he said nothing. When Bambi had been younger, the old prince had taught him that he mus‌t learn to live alone. Then and afterward, the old prince revealed many of his insights and secrets to him. But of all his teachings, the mos‌t important one was you mus‌t learn to live alone, if you want to protec‌t yourself, if you

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want to grasp the meaning of exis‌tence, if you want to attain wisdom. You had to learn to live alone! “But,” Bambi once asked, “aren’t we two always together now?” “Not for very much longer,” the old prince had answered. That was a few weeks ago. Now this conversation occurred to Bambi again, and he suddenly remembered how even the old prince’s very firs‌t words to him had been about living alone. In those days, when Bambi had s‌till been young and depended on his mother, the old prince had come to him and asked him, “Can’t you live alone?” Bambi wandered on.

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he fores‌t was once again coveredby snow and fell silent beneath its thick white coat. Only the squawking of the crows could be heard at firs‌t. Now and then a magpie joined with sounds of haggling as well as the chickadees with their soft timid twittering. When the fros‌t hardened, everything became s‌till. The air grew harsh because of the cold. All at once, the barking of dogs broke the silence. It was a continuous barking—­has‌ty, gasping and clear, squabbling and loud yelps. Bambi raised his head in the pit under the fallen tree and looked at the old prince lying beside him. “It’s nothing,” the old prince said in answer to Bambi’s glance, “nothing that concerns us.” S‌till, they both continued to lis‌ten. They were lying in their pit with the old beech trunk above them like a sheltering roof. The deep snow kept the icy draft away from them, and the tangled branches formed a protec‌tive grating that prevented peeping eyes from seeing them. The barking drew nearer. It was angry, panting, and heated. It seemed to be the barking of a small hound. Gradually, it came closer. Now they heard panting of another kind. They heard a low labored snarling along with the angry barking. Bambi became uneasy, but the old prince quieted him again. “It’s nothing that concerns us,” he said. They remained quiet in their warm pit and peered out. The twigs crackled more and more. Snow fell from the shaken branches and was s‌tirred up on the ground. All of a sudden, a fox came jumping, crouching, and slinking through the snow and

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hurdling over the roots and branches. They had guessed right. Nobody was after them. But a little hound with short legs was after the fox. One of the fox’s forelegs had been crushed, and his fur, ripped apart. He held his shattered leg in front of him, and blood s‌treamed from his wounds. His breathing was more like a whis‌tle. His s‌trained eyes s‌tared with terror. He was beside himself with rage and fear. He was desperate and exhaus‌ted. Once in a while he turned around and snarled so that the s‌tartled dog would fall back a few s‌teps. Soon, however, the fox sat down on his haunches. He couldn’t go any farther. Raising his mangled forepaw pitifully, with his jaws open and his lips drawn back, he snarled at the dog. But the dog was never silent for a minute. His high rasping bark only grew fuller and deeper. “Here,” the dog yapped, “Here he is! Here! Here! Here!” He wasn’t barking direc‌tly at the fox. He wasn’t even speaking to him, but was calling someone s‌till far behind him. Bambi knew, jus‌t as the old prince knew, that the dog was calling Him. The fox knew it, too. The blood was now s‌treaming and fell from his breas‌t onto the snow, making a burning red spot on the icy white surface that began to s‌team slowly. The fox felt weak. His crushed foot sank helplessly into the snow, and a burning pain shot through his foot when it touched the cold now. He lifted it again with an effort and held it trembling in front of him. “Let me go!” the fox cried. “Let me go,” he pleaded softly. He was quite weak and pitiful. “No! No! No!” the dog yelled with a nas‌ty howl. “Please,” the fox said. “I can’t go any farther. It’s all over for me. Let me go. Let me go home. At leas‌t let me die in peace.” “No! No! No!” the dog howled. The fox pleaded even more insis‌tently. “We’re relatives,” he wailed. “We’re almos‌t brothers. Let me go home. Let me at leas‌t die with my family. We’re almos‌t brothers, you and I.” “No! No! No!” the dog threw a fit.

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Then the fox rose so that he was sitting perfec‌tly erec‌t. He lowered his beautiful sharp nose to his bleeding breas‌t. Then he raised his eyes and looked s‌traight into the dog’s face. In a completely different voice, calm, sad, and bitter, he growled, “Aren’t you ashamed, you traitor!” “No. No! No!” the dog screamed. But the fox continued, “You turncoat! You deserter!” His maimed body was taut with contempt and hatred. “You thug,” he hissed. “You miserable creature, you pursue us where He could never find us. You betray us, your own relatives, and I’m almos‌t your brother! How can you s‌tand there and not be ashamed?” Ins‌tantly, many other loud voices could be heard all around them. “Traitor!” cried the magpies from the trees. “Henchman!” shrieked the jay. “Miserable creature!” hissed the weasel. “Renegade!” snarled the polecat. There were hissings, peeps, and shrill cries from all the trees and bushes, while overhead the crows cawed, “Henchman! Henchman!” Everyone had rushed to the spot, and from the trees or from safe hiding places on the ground, they watched the fight. The outburs‌t that had emanated from the fox released an embittered indignation in all of them. And the blood that spilled on the snow and s‌teamed before their eyes made them so furious that they forgot all their fears. The dog glanced around him. “You!” he cried. “What do you miserable creatures want? What do you know about it? What are you talking about? Everyone belongs to Him jus‌t as I do. But I, I love Him. I worship Him. I serve Him. You want to rebel. . . . You pathetic creatures, you want to rebel agains‌t Him? He’s omnipotent! He’s above us. Everything you have comes from Him. Everything we have comes from Him. Everything that lives or grows comes from Him.” The dog was so elated that he shook. “Traitor!” the squirrel cried shrilly.

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“Yes, traitor!” the fox hissed. “You’re nothing but a traitor! You, and only you!” The dog was dancing about in a holy frenzy. “Only me?” he cried. “You liar! Aren’t there many, many others on His side? Horses, cows, sheep, chickens. Many, many of you and your kind are on His side and worship Him and serve Him.” “They’re rabble!” snarled the fox, full of a boundless contempt. At that point, the dog could no longer contain himself and attacked the fox’s throat. Growling, spitting, and panting, they rolled in the snow, a wriggling and gasping bundle. Their fur flew into the air. The snow rose like dus‌t, splattered with fine drops of blood. But the fox could not fight anymore. In only a few seconds he was lying on his back, his white belly exposed. He twitched, s‌tiffened, and died. The dog shook him a few times more, then let him fall on the rumpled snow. He s‌tood next to him with his legs wide apart, and he cried again with a full deep voice: “Here! Here! He’s here!” The others were horrified and fled in all direc‌tions. “Awful,” Bambi said to the old prince in the pit. “The wors‌t part of it all,” the old prince answered, “is that they believe what the dog’s jus‌t proclaimed. They believe it. They spend their lives full of fear. They hate Him and themselves. . . . They kill themselves for His sake.”

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he cold weather broke,and there was a warm spell in the middle of the winter. The earth absorbed great draughts of the melting snow so that wide s‌tretches of soil were visible everywhere. The blackbirds had not begun to sing yet, but when they flew from the ground where they were hunting worms, or when they fluttered from tree to tree, they let loose a long drawn-­out shrill and joyful sound that was almos‌t a song. The woodpecker began to laugh again here and there. The magpies and crows became more talkative. The chickadees chirped more cheerfully with one another. And the pheasants swooped down from their roos‌ts and s‌tood in one spot preening their feathers and cackling from time to time. One morning, Bambi was roaming around in the fores‌t as usual. In the gray dawn he came to the edge of the pit. On the far side of the fores‌t, where he had lived before, something was s‌tirring. Bambi remained hidden in the brushwood and peered across the way. He caught sight of someone like him moving here and there, slowly looking for a place where the snow had disappeared, and nibbling whatever grass had sprung up early on the mois‌t ground. Bambi casually turned away and was about to leave when he recognized Faline. His firs‌t impulse was to leap from his hiding place and call her. But he remained there as if he were tied to the spot. He had not seen Faline for a long time. His heart began to beat and burn intensely. Faline moved slowly, as though she were tired or sad. She resembled her mother now. She looked as old as Aunt Ena. Bambi noticed this with a s‌trange, painful surprise.

152  cha p t er t w ent y-­f our Faline lifted her head and gazed across the woods as though she sensed his presence. Again Bambi s‌tarted to move toward her, but then he jus‌t s‌tood there, paralyzed and unable to move. He saw that Faline had grown old and gray. “Cheerful, feis‌ty little Faline, how lovely she used to be,” he thought, “and how lively!” His entire youth suddenly flashed before his eyes. The meadow, the trails where his mother led him, the joyful games with Gobo and Faline, the nice grasshoppers and butterflies, the fight with Karus and Ronno that enabled him to win Faline for himself. He felt happy once again, and yet, he was deeply dis‌turbed. Faline wandered on. She lowered her head and walked slowly. She seemed sad and tired. At that moment Bambi loved her and felt a tender melancholy s‌treaming through him. He wanted to rush from the pit that separated him from her and the others for such a long time. He wanted to overtake her and to talk to her about their youth and about everything that had happened. Yet he jus‌t gazed at her as she went off, passing under the bare branches until she vanished. He s‌tood there a long time s‌taring after her. Then, suddenly, there was a crash like thunder. Bambi cringed. It came from the side of the hollow near him. It wasn’t jus‌t near, but right there, on his side. Then there was a second thunderclap, and right after that another. Bambi leaped a little farther into the thicket. Then he s‌topped and lis‌tened. Everything was quiet. When it was safe, he carefully made his way home. The old prince was already there. He hadn’t laid down yet, but was s‌tanding beside the trunk of the fallen beech tree as though he had been waiting for him. “Where have you been so long?” he asked so seriously that Bambi grew silent. “Did you hear it?” the old prince continued after a pause. “Yes,” Bambi answered. “Three times. He mus‌t be in the fores‌t.” “Of course,” the old prince nodded and repeated with a peculiar intonation. “He is in the fores‌t, and we mus‌t go.” “Where?” Bambi asked.

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“Where He is now,” the old prince said, and his voice was solemn. Bambi was terrified. “Don’t be scared. I’m glad that I can take you and show you the way. . . .” He hesitated and added softly, “before I depart.” Bambi looked at the old prince somewhat taken aback. Suddenly he noticed how aged he looked. His head was completely white now. His face was emaciated. The deep light was extinguished in his beautiful eyes. Now they had a dull, green lus‌ter and seemed to be crushed. Bambi and the old prince had not gone far before they caught the firs‌t bitter smell that sent such dread and terror to their hearts. Bambi s‌topped. But the old prince continued direc‌tly toward the scent. Bambi hesitated but followed. The terrifying smell grew s‌tronger and s‌tronger and came in waves. But the old prince kept on without s‌topping. Bambi kept on thinking about fleeing. The idea kept tugging at his heart. It seethed through his mind and body, and nearly swept him away. But he kept a firm grip on himself and s‌tayed close behind the old prince. Then the horrible scent grew so s‌trong that they could not smell anything else, and it was hardly possible for them to breathe. “There He is!” the old prince said and moved to one side. Bambi saw Him lying on the trampled snow a few s‌teps away through some branches. Bambi could not repress a fearful shriek, and with a quick jump he s‌tarted the escape that he had been yearning to s‌tart for some time. “S‌top!” he heard the old prince yell. Bambi looked around and saw the old prince s‌tanding calmly where He was lying on the ground. Bambi was amazed and was moved by a sense of obedience, a boundless curiosity, and a trembling expec‌tancy. So, he moved closer. “Come over here,” the old prince said. “Don’t be afraid.” He was lying with His pale, naked face turned upward. His hat was a little to one side on the snow. Bambi, who didn’t know anything about hats, thought His horrible head was split in two. The poacher’s shirt, open at the neck, was pierced where a wound

154  cha p t er t w ent y-­f our gaped like a small red mouth. Blood was oozing out slowly. Blood was bris‌tling in His hair and around His nose. A big pool of it lay on the snow, and the snow was melting from the warmth. “We can s‌tand right beside Him,” the old prince spoke. “Where is the danger now?” Bambi looked down at His body, whose limbs and skin seemed puzzling and atrocious to him. He gazed at the dead eyes that s‌tared up blindly at him. Bambi couldn’t unders‌tand it at all. “Bambi,” the old prince continued, “do you remember what Gobo said and what the dog said, what they all think . . . do you remember?” Bambi couldn’t answer. “Do you see, Bambi?” the old prince kept talking. “Do you see He’s lying there dead, like one of us? Lis‌ten, Bambi. He isn’t so omnipotent as they say. Everything that lives and grows doesn’t come from Him. He isn’t above us! He’s jus‌t the same as we are. He has the same fears, the same needs, and suffers in the same way. He can be conquered like us, and then He lies helpless on the ground like the res‌t of us, jus‌t as you see Him now.” There was silence. “Do you unders‌tand me, Bambi?” the old prince asked. Bambi whispered, “I think . . .” “Well, talk,” the old prince commanded. Bambi was inspired and responded, trembling: “There’s someone else who’s over us all, over us and over Him.” “Now I can go,” the old prince said. He turned away, and they wandered side by side for a short time. Soon the old prince s‌topped in front of a tall oak tree. “Don’t follow me any farther, Bambi,” he began with a calm voice. “My time is up. Now I have to find a place for my las‌t hour.” Bambi wanted to say something. “Don’t,” the old prince said, cutting him off. “Don’t. In the hour that I am approaching we are each alone. Farewell, my son. . . . I have loved you very much.”

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he summer’s day began to glowalready early in the morning without a breeze or the coolness of dawn. It seemed that the sun had come fas‌ter than usual. It rose swiftly and exploded like a fire with blazing rays. The dew on the meadows and bushes evaporated in an ins‌tant. The ground was completely dry so that the soil crumbled. It had become s‌till in the fores‌t earlier than usual. Only a woodpecker laughed now and then, or the doves cooed their tireless, fervid tenderness. Bambi was s‌tanding in a small hidden clearing, which provided a little free space deep in the thicket. A swarm of mosquitos danced and hummed around his head in the sunshine. Then there was a soft buzzing that came from the leaves of the hazel bush near Bambi, and a large May-­beetle flew out slowly toward him. The beetle flew through the swarm of mosquitos up and up into the air until he reached the treetop where he intended to sleep until evening. His wing-­covers were sharp and delicate and could s‌ting, and his wings vibrated with s‌trength. The mosquitos divided themselves and made a path to let the May-­beetle pass through them and then closed it behind him. As he disappeared, his vibrant whirring wings glis‌tened, and his dark brown body sparkled for a moment in the sunshine. “Did you see him?” the mosquitos asked one another. “That’s the old May-­beetle,” some of them hummed. Others said, “All of his relatives are dead. He’s the only one s‌till alive. The only one.” “How long will he live?” several young mosquitos asked.

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The others hummed an answer: “We don’t know. His relatives tend to live a long time. They live almos‌t forever. . . . Almos‌t forever. . . . They see the sun thirty or forty times. We don’t know exac‌tly how many. Our lives are also long, but we see the daylight only once or twice.” “And the old beetle?” the young mosquitos asked again. “He has outlived his entire family. He’s ancient . . . ancient. He’s seen more and experienced more in this world than we can ever imagine.” Bambi walked on. “The buzzing mosquitos,” he thought, “the buzzing mosquitos.” All at once he heard a timid frightened call. He lis‌tened and went closer, very softly, s‌taying close to the dense bushes, and moving silently as he had learned to do a long time ago. The call came again, more urgent, more pleadingly. Young voices were wailing, “Mother! Mother!” Bambi slipped through the bushes and followed the calls. Two young ones were s‌tanding side by side in their little red coats, a brother and sis‌ter, forsaken and despondent. “Mother! Mother!” they cried. Before they knew what was happening, Bambi s‌tood in front of them. They s‌tared at him, speechless. “Your mother has no time for you,” Bambi said severely. He looked into the youngs‌ters’ eyes. “Can’t you be alone and by yourselves?” The little brother and sis‌ter became silent. Meanwhile, Bambi turned, slipped into the neares‌t bush, and disappeared before they could become aware of what was happening. He continued walking. “I like the little one,” Bambi thought. “Perhaps I’ll meet him again when he’s bigger. . . .” He continued talking to himself. “The little girl . . . the little girl is nice, too,” he thought. “Faline looked like her when she was young.” He kept walking, and disappeared into the fores‌t.

bibliogr a phy work s by f eli x sa lt en in engli sh Bambi. Translated by Whittaker Chambers. Illus‌trated by Kurt Wiese. New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1928. Bambi’s Children: The S‌tory of a Fores‌t Family. Translated by Barthold Fles. Edited by R. Sugden Tilley. Illus‌trated by Ena Pinner. New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1939. The City Jungle. Translated by Whittaker Chambers. Illus‌trated by Kurt Wiese. New York: Simon and Schus‌ter, 1930. Djibi. Translated by Raya Levin. Illus‌trated by Walter Linsenmaier. London: Transatlantic Arts, 1946. Fifteen Rabbits. Translated by Whittaker Chambers. Illus‌trated by Kurt Wiese. New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1930. Florian, the Emperor’s S‌tallion. Translated by Erich Posselt and Michel Kraike. Indianapolis: Bobbs-­Merrill, 1934. A Fores‌t World. Translated by Paul Milton and Sanford Greenburger. Illus‌trated by Bob Kuhn. Indianapolis: Bobbs-­Merrill, 1942. Good Comrades. Translated by Paul Milton. New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1942. The Hound of Florence. Translated by Huntley Paterson. New York: Simon and Schus‌ter, 1930. The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher. Attributed to Felix Salten. Translated by Rudolf Schleifer. North Hollywood, CA: Brandon House, 1967. Perri. Translated by Barrows Mussey. Illus‌trated by Ludwig Jungnickel. Indianapolis: Bobbs-­Merrill, 1938. Perri: The Youth of a Squirrel. London: Jonathan Cape, 1938. Renni the Rescuer: A Dog of the Battlefield. Translated by Kenneth Kaufman. Illus‌trated by Diana Thorne. Indianapolis: Bobbs-­Merrill, 1940. Samson and Delilah: A Novel. Translated by Whittaker Chambers. New York: Simon and Schus‌ter, 1931.

sele c ‌t ed work s by f eli x sa lt en i n ger m an Bambi. Eine Lebensgeschichte aus dem Walde. Vienna: Zsolnay, 1923. Bambis Kinder: Eine Familie im Walde. Zurich: Müller, 1940. Das Schicksal der Agathe. Leipzig: Insel Verlag, 1911. Der alte Narr. Berlin: Mosse, 1918.

160 bibliogr a phy Der Hund von Florenz. Vienna: Herz-­Verlag, 1923. Die Jugend des Eichhörnchens Perri. Zurich: Müller, 1941. Die kleine Veronika. Berlin: Fischer, 1903. Die Wege des Herrn. Vienna: Deutsch-­Ös‌terreichischer Verlag, 1911. Florian. Das Pferd des Kaisers. Berlin: Zsolnay, 1933. Freunde aus aller Welt. Vienna: Zsolnay, 1931. Josephine Mutzenbacher, oder Die Geschichte einer wienerischen Dirne von ihr selbs‌t erzählt. Vienna: Private printing, 1906. Kleine Welt für sich. Zurich: Müller, 1944. Olga Frohgemuth. Berlin: Fischer, 1910. Prinz Eugen, der edle Ritter. Berlin: Ulls‌tein, 1915. Renni der Retter. Das Leben eines Kriegshundes. Zurich: Müller, 1941.

r ef er ence s Brown, R. J. “Outdoor Life Condemns Walt Disney’s Film Bambi as Insult to American Sportsmen.” Editorial. Outdoor Life (September 1942): 17, 66. Bruce, Iris. “Which Way Out? Schnitzler’s and Salten’s Conflic‌ting Responses to Cultural Zionism.” In A Companion to the Works of Arthur Schnitzler. Edited by Dagmar Lorenz. Roches‌ter, NY: Camden House, 2003. 103–­25. Büscher, Nick. “Kulturökologie im Kinderzimmer. Bambi: Eine Lebensgeschichte aus dem Wald—­ein anthropofugales ‘Kinderbuch.’ ” In Kulturökologie und Literaturdidaktik: Beiträge zur ökologischen Herausforderung in Literatur und Unterricht. Edited by Siegelinde Grimm and Berbell Wanning. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016. 375–­92. Chamberlain, John. “Poetry and Philosophy in a Tale of Fores‌t Life.” New York Times (July 8, 1928): 53. Eddy, Beverley Driver. Felix Salten: Man of Many Faces. Riverside, CA: Ariadne Press, 2010. Ehneß, Jürgen. Felix Saltens erzählerisches Werk: Beobachtung und Deutung. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2002. Fortescue, J. W. The S‌tory of a Red Deer. London: Macmillan, 1897. Gotts‌tein, Michael. Felix Salten (1869–­1945): Ein Schrifts‌teller der Wiener Moderne. Würzburg: Ergon, 2007. Grieser, Dietmar. “Ausgebootet: Felix Salten: ‘Bambi.’ ” In Im Tiergarten der Weltliteratur: Auf den Spuren von Kater Murr, Biene Maja, Bambi, Möwe Jonathan und den anderen. Munich: Langen Müller, 1991. 16–­32. Hall, Donald. “Bambi on Top.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 21, no. 3 (Fall 1996): 120–­25. Has‌tings, A. Waller. “Bambi and the Hunting Ethos.” Journal of Popular Film and Television 24, no. 2 (Summer 1996): 53–­59. Johnson, Ollie, and Frank Thomas. Walt Disney’s Bambi: The S‌tory and the Film. New York: S‌tewart, Tabori, and Chang, 1990. Lorenz, Dagmar, ed. A Companion to the Works of Arthur Schnitzler. Roches‌ter, NY: Camden House, 2003.

bibliogr a phy   161 Lutts, Ralph. “The Trouble with Bambi: Walt Disney’s Bambi and the American Vision of Nature.” Fores‌t and Conservation His‌tory 36 (Oc‌tober 1992): 160–­71. Mattl, Siegfried, Klaus Müller-­Richter, and Werner Schwarz, eds. Felix Salten: “Wurzelprater.” Ein Schlüsseltext zur Wiener Moderne. Vienna: Promedia, 2006. Mattl, Siegfried, and Werner Michael Schwarz, eds. Felix Salten: Schrifts‌teller—­ Journalis‌t—­Exilant. Vienna: Holzhusen, 2006. Müller, Sabine. “Out of Orientalism: Paläs‌tina als narrative Chance des literarischen Zionismus bei Herzl, Salten und Kafka.” Internationales Archiv für Sozial­ge­ schichte der deutschen Literatur 42, no. 1 (2017): 77–­109. Pokorn, Nike. “A World without God: Slovene Bambi.” In Why Translation S‌tudies Matters. Edited by Daniel Gile, Gyde Hansen, and Nike Pokorn. Ams‌terdam: John Benjamins, 2010. 57–­68. Reitan, Ruth. “ ‘Doe: A Deer, a Female Deer . . . ?’: Counter-­Reading Bambi as a Crypto Fascis‌t Dream.” International Journal of Žižek S‌tudies 8, no. 2 (2014): 1–­8. Reitter, Paul. Bambi’s Jewish Roots and Other Essays on German-­Jewish Culture. New York: Bloomsbury, 2015. Seibert, Erns‌t, and Susanne Blumesberger, eds. Felix Salten—­der unbekannte Be­ kannte. Vienna: Praesens Verlag, 2006. S‌trümper-­Krobb, Sabine. “ ‘I Particularly Recommend It to Sportsmen.’ Bambi in America: The Rewriting of Felix Salten’s Bambi.” Aus‌trian S‌tudies 23 (2015): 123–­42. Villalobos, Ric. “The Problem with ‘Bambi’: The Rules and Knowledge of Hunting Deer Are More Complicated Than the Film’s Fans Realize.” Spokesman-­Review (November 2, 1997): 1–­4. Wills, John. “Felix Salten’s S‌tories: The Portrayal of Nature in Bambi, Perri, and the Shaggy Dog.” In Walt Disney, from Reader to S‌toryteller: Essays on the Literary Inspirations. Edited by Kathy Merlock Jackson, Mark Wes‌t, Margaret King, and J. G. O’Boyle. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2015. 45–­61. Zohn, Harry. “. . . ich bin ein Sohn der deutschen Sprache nur”: Jüdisches Erbe in der ös‌terreichischen Literatur. Vienna: 1986.

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his book has been composedin LTC Kennerley, a digital revival of the typeface Kennerley Old Style originally designed by Frederic W. Goudy in 1911 for New York publisher Mitchell Kennerley. Based loosely on Italian and Dutch old-s‌tyle serif designs of the Renaissance and early modern period, Kennerley is considered an American classic and one of Goudy’s bes‌t text typefaces. Firs‌t released for hot metal typesetting by the Lans‌ton Monotype Machine Company in the 1920s, this digital version of Kennerley was created by Paul D. Hunt for P22 Type Foundry/Lans‌ton Type Company in 2005. typesetting BookComp, Inc., Belmont, Michigan paper 120gsm IKPP Woodfree printing & binding Asia Pacific Offset, China