deep in among the trees was a place that belonged to bambi’s mother. it lay only a few steps from the narrow path used by the deer as they made their way through the wood but it was nearly impossible to find for anyone who did not know where the little gap through the dense bushes was.
it was only a narrow space, so narrow that it only just had room for bambi and his mother to fit in, and it was so low that when bambi’s mother stood up her head would be in among the twigs and branches. hazel bushes, gorse and dogwood all grew here tangled in among each other and the little sunlight that came down through the forest canopy would be caught by them so that it never reached as far as the ground. this was the room where bambi came into the world and this was where he and his mother made their home.
now, his mother lay asleep, pressed down on the ground. bambi had slept a little too, but now he had become quite lively. he stood up and looked around.
here, deep in the woods, it was shadowy, it was almost dark. the wood could be heard gently rustling and soughing. here and there the tits chirruped, here and there was the bright laughter of a woodpecker or the cheerless bark of a crow. all else, near and far, was quiet. only the air became warm in the heat of midday, and even that could be heard if you listened carefully. here in the woods it was humid and sweltering.
bambi looked down at his mother. “are you asleep?”
no, his mother was not sleeping. she had woken up straight away when bambi had stood up.
“what are we going to do now?” bambi asked.
“nothing,” his mother answered. “we’re going to stay where we are. just lie down, like a good child, and go to sleep.”
but bambi did not feel like sleeping. “come on,” he begged. “let’s go onto the meadow.”
his mother raised her head. “to the meadow? now ... to the meadow ...?” she sounded so astonished and so full of alarm that bambi became quite frightened.
“can’t we go to the meadow now, then?” he asked shyly.
“no,” came his mother’s answer, and it sounded quite conclusive. “no, that isn’t possible right now.”
“why not? asked bambi as he became aware that there was something very strange going on here. he became more afraid, but at the same time he felt the urge to learn about everything. “why can’t we go onto the meadow now?”
“you’ll learn about all that later, when you’re a bit older ...,” his mother reassured him.
bambi was insistent. “why won’t you tell me now?”
“later,” his mother repeated. “you’re still just a little child,” she continued gently, “and you don’t talk about things like this with little children.” she had become very serious. “now ... on the meadow ... i just don’t want to think of it. in broad daylight ...!”
“but when we went on the meadow,” bambi objected, “it was broad daylight then, too.”
“that was different,” his mother explained, “that was early in the morning.”
“can you only go there early in the morning then?” bambi had become too inquisitive.
his mother remained patient. “only early in the morning or late in the evening ... or at night ...”
“and not in the daytime? never ...?”
his mother hesitated. “yes,” she said at last, “sometimes ... there are some of us who go out there in the daytime too, sometimes. but that’s under special conditions, ... i can’t really explain it to you, ... you’re still too little, ... some go out there, but then they put themselves in great danger ...”
“what is it that’s dangerous for them?” by now, bambi was very excited.
but his mother did not want to explain it straight away. “they are in danger ... listen, my child, these are things that you won’t be able to grasp yet.
bambi thought he would be able to understand anything, but he could not understand why his mother did not want to give him more details. but he said nothing.
“this is the way we have to live,” his mother went on, “all of us. even if we love the daytime ... and children are especially fond of the daytime ... we have to live like this, we just have to accept it. we can only move about from the evening until the morning. can you understand that?”
“yes.”
“now, my child, that’s why we have to stay here, where we are now. this is where we’re safe. that’s all there is to it! so now, lie down again and go to sleep.”
but bambi did not want to lie down again. “what makes us safe where we are now?” he asked.
“because all the bushes are watching over us, because the twigs on the bushes rustle, because the rough brushwood on the ground cracks and gives us warning, because the dead leaves from last year lie on the ground and rustle to give us a sign, ... because the jays are there, the magpies too, they keep watch over us, and that’s how we know there’s somebody coming a long time before they reach us ...”
“what’s that,” bambi enquired, “the dead leaves from last year?”
“come and sit beside me,” said his mother. “i’ll tell you all about it.” bambi gladly went and sat beside her and snuggled in close while she explained to him that the trees do not stay green all the time, that the sunshine and the lovely warmth go away. then it gets cold, the leaves turn yellow because of the frost, they go brown and red and, one by one, they fall off the trees so that they and the bushes reach their naked branches to the sky and look completely forlorn. but the dead leaves lie on the ground, and when they’re disturbed by somebody’s foot they rustle: there’s someone coming! oh they’re very good, these dead leaves from last year. they do us a good service by being so eager and by keeping watch the way they do. and now, in the middle of summer, there are still lots of them hidden under the things growing on the ground and they warn about any danger long before it gets near.
bambi pressed close against his mother. he forgot all about the meadow. it was so cosy to sit here and listen to what his mother told him.
then, when his mother stopped speaking, he thought about what she had said. he thought it was very nice of the good, old leaves to watch over them so carefully even though they were dead and had been frozen and had gone through so many things already. he tried to think what that danger, that his mother kept talking about, could actually be. but all that thinking tired him out; it was all quiet around him, all you could hear was the heat of the air. and he went to sleep.
