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