it was in a space in a thicket that he came into the world, in one of those little, hidden places in the wood which seem to be open on every side but which in fact are completely surrounded by foliage. that is why there was so little room there, but just enough for him and his mother.
he stood up, he staggered on his thin legs as he wondered what was happening, looked out with eyes which were dull, wondered what was happening but saw nothing, dropped his head, shuddered severely, and was quite numb.
“what a beautiful child!” declared the magpie.
she had rushed to the place, drawn by the breathy groans she heard forced from bambi’s mother by her pain. now the magpie sat on a branch nearby. “what a beautiful child!” she exclaimed again. no-one answered her and she continued speaking excitedly. “and he can already stand up and walk. that’s amazing! that’s so interesting! i’ve never seen anything like it in me life. well, i’m still young of course, it’s only a year since i left the nest, but i expect you know that. but i think it’s wonderful. a child like this ... he’s only been born a second and he can already stand. i think it’s very noble of him. and most of all, i find that everything done by you deer is very noble. can he already run too?”
“of course,” answered bambi’s mother gently. “but you’ll have to excuse me, i’m not really in a good condition to chat with you. there’s a lot that i’ve got to do ... and besides, i’m feeling quite tired.”
“oh, don’t let me disturb you,” said the magpie, “i’m in a bit of a rush today, too! but it’s not every day that you see something like this. i ask you, think of how awkward it is for us in these things, and how much hard work! the children just can’t do anything when they first hatch from the egg, they just lie there in the nest quite helpless, and need to be looked after, they always need to be looked after i tell you, i’m sure you’ve got no idea what it’s like. it’s so much hard work just to keep ‘em fed, and they need to be protected, it’s so worrying! i ask you, just think how strenuous all that is, getting food for the children and having to watch over them at the same time so that nothing happens to ‘em; if you’re not there they can do nothing for themselves. am i not right? and you have to wait so long before they start to move, so long before they get their first feathers and start to look a bit decent!”
“please forgive me,” bambi’s mother said, “i wasn’t really listening.”
the magpie flew away. “stupid person,” she thought to herself, “noble, but stupid!”
bambi’s mother barely noticed, and continued vigorously washing her newborn. she washed it with her tongue and so performed several tasks at once, care for his body, a warming massage and a display of her affection.
the little one staggered a little under the weight of the stroking and pushing that gently touched him all over but he remained still. his red coat, which was still a little unkempt, had a sprinkling of white on it, his face, that of a child, still looked uncomprehending, almost as if he were in a deep sleep.
all around them grew hazel bushes, dogwoods, blackthorn bushes and young elder trees. lofty maples, beech trees and oaks created a green roof over the thicket and from the firm, dark brown ground there sprouted ferns and wild peas and sage. down close to the ground were the leaves, close together, of violets which were already in bloom and the leaves of strawberries which were just beginning to bloom. the light of the morning sun pierced its way through the thick foliage like a web of gold. the whole forest was alive with the sounds of countless voices which pierced through the trees with an air of gay excitement. the golden oriole performed a ceaseless song of joy, the doves never stopped cooing, the blackbirds whistled, the finches flapped their wings, the tits chirruped. the quarrelsome screech of the jay penetrated through all this, and the joking laughter of the blue magpie, the bursting, metallic cook-cook of the pheasants. from time to time the harsh short celebrations of a woodpecker would pierce through all the other voices. the shrill, bright call of a falcon would penetrate across the forest canopy and the choir of crows never stopped ringing out their raucous call.
the little one understood not a one of these many songs and calls, not a word of their conversations. he was still too young to listen to them. he also paid no attention to any of the many smells that the forest breathed. he heard only the gentle rustling that ran over his coat as it was washed, warmed and kissed, and he smelt only the body of his mother, close by. he nuzzled close to this body with the lovely smell, and hungrily he searched around it and found the source of life.
as he drank his mother continued to pet him. “bambi,” she whispered.
every few moments she would lift her head, listen, and draw the wind in.
then she kissed her child again, reassured and happy. “bambi,” she repeated, “my little bambi.”
