“What are last year’s leaves?” Bambi asked.
“Come and sit beside me,” said his mother, “and I will tell you.” Bambi sat down contentedly, nestling close to his mother. And she told him how the trees are not always green, how the sunshine and the pleasant warmth disappear. Then it grows cold, the frost turns the leaves yellow, brown and red, and they fall slowly so that the trees and bushes stretch their bare branches to the sky and look perfectly naked. But the dry leaves lie on the ground, and when a foot stirs them they rustle. Then someone is coming. O, how kind last year’s dead leaves are! They do their duty so well and are so alert and watchful. Even in midsummer there are a lot of them hidden beneath the undergrowth. And they give warning in advance of every danger.
Bambi pressed close against his mother. It was so cozy to sit there and listen while his mother talked.
When she grew silent he began to think. He thought it was very kind of the good old leaves to keep watch, though they were all dead and frozen and had suffered so much. He wondered just what that danger could be that his mother was always talking about. But too much thought tired him. Round about him it was still. Only the air sizzling in the heat was audible. Then he fell asleep.
IV
One evening Bambi was roaming about the meadow again with his mother. He thought that he knew everything there was to see or hear there. But in reality it appeared that he did not know as much as he thought.
This time was just like the first. Bambi played tag with his mother. He ran around in circles, and the open space, the deep sky, the fresh air intoxicated him so that he grew perfectly wild. After a while he noticed that his mother was standing still. He stopped short in the middle of a leap so suddenly that his four legs spread far apart. To get his balance he bounded high into the air and then stood erect. His mother seemed to be talking to someone he couldn’t make out through the tall grasses. Bambi toddled up inquisitively.
Two long ears were moving in the tangled grass stems close to his mother. They were grayish-brown and prettily marked with black stripes. Bambi stopped, but his mother said, “Come here. This is our friend, the Hare. Come here like a nice boy and let him see you.”
Bambi went over. There sat the Hare looking like a very honest creature. At times his long spoon-like ears stood bolt upright. At others they fell back limply as though they had suddenly grown weak. Bambi became somewhat critical as he looked at the whiskers that stood out so stiff and straight on both sides of the Hare’s mouth. But he noticed that the Hare had a very mild face and extremely good-natured features, and that he cast timid glances at the world from out of his big round eyes. The Hare really did look friendly. Bambi’s passing doubts vanished immediately. But oddly enough, he had lost all the respect he originally felt for the Hare.
“Good evening, young man,” the Hare greeted him, with studied politeness.
Bambi merely nodded good evening. He didn’t understand why, but he simply nodded. He was very friendly and civil, but a little condescending. He could not help it himself. Perhaps he was born that way.
“What a charming young prince,” said the Hare to Bambi’s mother. He looked at Bambi attentively, raising first one spoon-like ear, then the other, and then both of them, and letting them fall again, suddenly and limply, which didn’t please Bambi. The motion of the Hare’s ears seemed to say, “He isn’t worth bothering with.”
Meanwhile the Hare continued to study Bambi with his big round eyes. His nose and his mouth with the handsome whiskers moved incessantly in the same way a man who is trying not to sneeze twitches his nose and lips. Bambi had to laugh.
The Hare laughed quickly, too, but his eyes grew more thoughtful. “I congratulate you,” he said to Bambi’s mother. “I sincerely congratulate you on your son. Yes, indeed, he’ll make a splendid prince in time. Anyone can see that.”
To Bambi’s boundless surprise he suddenly sat straight on his hind legs. After he had spied all around with his ears stiffened and his nose constantly twitching, he sat down decently on all fours again. “Now if you good people will excuse me,” he said at last, “I have all kinds of things to do tonight. If you’ll be so good as to excuse me. …” He turned away and hopped off with his ears back so that they touched his shoulders.
“Good evening,” Bambi called after him.
His mother smiled. “The good Hare,” she said; “he is so suave and prudent. He doesn’t have an easy time of it in this world.” There was sympathy in her voice.
Bambi strolled about a little and left his mother to her meal. He wanted to meet his friend again and he wanted to make new acquaintances, besides. For without being very clear himself what it was he wanted, he felt a certain expectancy. Suddenly, at a distance, he heard a soft rustling on the meadow, and felt a quick, gentle step tapping the ground. He peered ahead of him. Over on the edge of the woods something was gliding through the grasses. Was it alive? No, there were two things. Bambi cast a quick glance at his mother but she wasn’t paying attention to anything and had her head deep in the grass. But the game was going on on the
