bambi noticed that the world had changed. it was hard for him to get by in this altered world. they had all been living like rich people and now they began to find themselves in poverty. but wealth was all that bambi had ever known. he took it as a matter of course to be surrounded by the greatest excess and the finest luxury on all sides, to have no worries about finding food, to sleep in a beautiful room hung with green that no-one could see into, and to walk about in a majestically smooth, glossy, red coat.
everything was different now, and he had not really noticed it, not properly. the change which had taken place had been, for him, just a sequence of short-lived appearances. he found it entertaining when milky-white veils of mist drew the morning dampness up from the meadow, or when they would suddenly sink down from the twilight sky. they were so beautiful as they dissipated in the sunlight. he liked the frost too, which surprised him when he saw the ground and the meadow strewn with white. he spent much time luxuriating in the sound of his grown-up relatives, the stags, as they shouted. the whole forest would rumble from the voices of these kings. bambi would listen and be very afraid, but his heart would thump in admiration whenever he heard this thunderous call. he thought about the crowns worn by these kings, so big and with so many branches, like a majestic oak, and he would think their voices were just as powerful as their crowns. their imperious commands rolled out in the deepest tones, the monstrous groans of noble blood as it rushed around their bodies and seethed with the ancient power of yearning, haughtiness and pride. whenever bambi heard these voices he felt overwhelmed by them, but he was proud to have such distinguished relatives. at the same time he felt a peculiar, excited irritation at their being so unapproachable. that hurt him, that humiliated him, although he did not know exactly why or how, or even how he could come any closer to knowing.
it was only when the kings’ time for lovemaking was over, and their thunderous cries went silent, that bambi started paying attention to other things once more. when he walked through the woods by night or lay in his room by day he heard the whisperings of the leaves as they fell through the trees. the rustling sounds, as they trickled down through the air from every tree top, every twig, were incessant. the gentle, silvery light of the moon ran continuously down to the earth. it was wonderful to wake up to it, and it was delicious to go to sleep with this mysterious, sad whispering. the leaves at that time lay deep and loose on the ground, and when you walked through them they crackled loudly and they rustled quietly. it was fun to have to push them aside with each step because their layers were so deep. they made a shhh-shhh noise that was very fine, very light and silvery. this was also very useful, as during these times there was no need to make great effort with listening and smelling. everything could be heard from a long way off. the leaves rustled from the slightest movement, they cried out shhh! who could possibly sneak up on you? no-one.
but then came the rain. from early morning to late in the evening it poured down, it struck and splattered from late in the evening and all through the night until back to the morning, eased off for a little while and then began again with new strength. the air seemed full of cold water, the whole world seemed full of it. your mouth was filled with water if you only tried to gather a few blades of grass and if you pulled at a bush then water would gush down into your eyes and up your nose. the leaves on the ground no longer rustled. they lay there soft and heavy, pressed down by the rain, and made no sound at all. bambi, for the first time, learned how vexing it was to have water streaming down on you all through the day and all through the night and to be soaked to the skin. he was still not very cold, but he yearned for warmth and he thought it was miserable to have to move about while soaked through and through.
but then, when the stormy weather came down from the north, bambi learnt what it really means to be cold. it was little help to cuddle up close to his mother. at first, of course, he liked it very much to lie there and be nice and warm, at least on one side. but the stormy winds raged all through the night and all through the day and all through the forest. it seemed to be driven by an incomprehensible, ice-cold fury, an insane rage that wanted to tear all the trees up by the roots and carry them away or to destroy them in some other way. the trees roared as they put up powerful resistance, they fought bravely against this immense attack. you could hear their long drawn out groans, the sighs of their creaking, there was a loud bang when one of their mighty boughs split, the angry crack when, here and there, the trunk of a tree would break, the cry of pain from all its wounds as its body was overpowered, split and killed. but then it became impossible to hear anything more, as the storm fell onto the forest with even greater violence and its roars drowned out any other voice.
bambi now understood that a period of need and poverty had begun. he saw how much the rain and the storms had changed the world. there were now no leaves on any of the trees or bushes. they stood there robbed of all they had, their whole body was naked and could be clearly seen, they looked pitiful as they stretched their naked, brown arms up to the sky. the grass on the meadow was limp and dark brown and so short it seemed to have been burnt to the ground. even the place where bambi and his mother slept seemed pitiful and bare now. since its green walls had disappeared it offered no privacy, and the wind blew in from every side.
one day a young magpie flew over the meadow. something white and cold fell into her eye, then another, then another, and laid a light veil over her sight. little, soft, dazzling-white flakes were dancing all around her. the magpie flapped her wings and nearly stopped, but then directed herself upward and went higher in the sky. in vain! the soft, cool flakes were there again and again they fell onto her and into her eyes. once again she directed herself upward and rose even higher.
“just don’t bother, love,” called a crow from above her who was flying in the same direction, “just give it up. you can’t fly high enough to get out of these flakes. that’s snow, i’n’it.”
“snow?” said the magpie in amazement as she struggled against each new flurry that came at her.
“well, yeah!” said the crow. “winter’s here. that’s snow, that is!”
“forgive me,” answered the magpie, “i only left the nest in may. i don’t know what winter’s like.”
“yeah, there’s a lot like that,” the crow observed. “you’ll soon find out though.”
“well, if that’s what snow is,” thought the magpie, “i’d like to sit down for a little while.” she went down and sat on a twig on an alder tree and shook herself.
the crow flew lazily on.
at first, bambi was pleased to see the snow. the air was still and mild, the white stars floated in the sky and everything in the world looked entirely new. it had become lighter, even gayer, thought bambi, and for the brief periods when the sun came out everything lit up, the white covering sparkled and shone with such power that it was quite dazzling.
but bambi soon stopped being pleased about the snow, as it was becoming harder and harder to find food. you had to scrape the snow aside and that took a lot of effort before a small patch of limp grass was exposed. and the snow cut into your legs too, so that you had to be careful not to get your feet injured. gobo already had done. but, of course, that is what gobo was like, he was never able to endure very much, and he caused his mother a lot of worry.
they were together now for almost all of the time, and they also had more company than previously. ena would often call by with her children. marena, a girl who was nearly grown up, had also begun to mix in their circle. but it was probably old mrs. nettla who came by for a chat most often. she was quite alone and had an opinion about everything. “no,” she said, “i want to have nothing more to do with children. that’s a pleasure that i’ve really had enough of.”
then faline would always say, “why’s that then, when it’s a pleasure?” and mrs. nettla would pretend to be cross and say, “it’s a bad sort of pleasure, and i’ve had enough of it. everyone enjoyed chatting very much. they sat next to each other and talked. the children had never had as much to listen to.
even one or two of the princes came and kept company with them now. at first it felt a little awkward, especially as the children were still somewhat shy with them. but that passed quite quickly and then there was a pleasant atmosphere. bambi admired prince ronno, who was an impressive gentleman, and he felt a tempestuous love for the young, beautiful karus. they had cast off their crowns and bambi would often stare at the two round, slate-grey discs on their heads where glamour, splendour and many tender points could be seen. karus seemed very elegant and distinguished.
it was tremendously exciting when one of the princes would tell him about what had happened to him. on ronno’s left foreleg there was a big lump which was now overgrown with fur. he would often ask, “have you ever noticed how i limp on this leg?” everyone was prompt to assure him that no-one had ever noticed any limp at all. that was what ronno wanted to hear. and it really was true to say that it was barely noticeable. “yes,” he would then continue, “i escaped from something very dangerous that day.” and so ronno would go on to recount how he had been taken by surprise by him and hurled fire at him. but he was only hit here on his leg. it hurt so much it could drive you mad. but it was only here, on his leg, that he had been hit. it hurt nearly enough to drive him crazy. no wonder. the bone had been shattered. but ronno did not panic. he got up and went, on just three legs. he kept going despite the pain, as he was well aware that he was being chased. he ran and ran until night fell. then he allowed himself some rest. but the following morning he moved on again until he felt he was in safety. then he groomed himself, hidden and alone, and waited for the wound to close up. eventually he came out of his place of safety and he was a hero. he had a limp, but that was barely noticeable.
now, when they were all together in one place so often and for so long, when so many stories were told, bambi heard more about him than he ever had before. they talked about how horrible he was to look at. nobody could bear looking into this pale face. this was something that bambi already knew from his own experience. they even talked about the smell of him that spread all around, and here, too, bambi would have been able to contribute to the discussion if he had not been too well brought up to join in with the conversations of grown ups. they said this scent was of a rather puzzling sort, always changing but instantly recognizable as it was always remarkably stimulating, unidentifiable, mysterious, but in itself rather disgusting. they talked about him only needing two legs to walk on and about the wonderful strength of both his hands. some of them did not exactly know what hands are. but mrs. nettla explained it to them. “i don’t see anything surprising about it. the squirrel can do everything you’ve just mentioned and does it in just the way he wants to, and every little mouse can do the same.” she turned her head disrespectfully away from them. “oh!” the others exclaimed and they made her understand that it’s far from being the same thing. but mrs. nettla was not to be intimidated. “and what about the falcon?” she declared, “what about the buzzard? and the owl? they’ve only got two legs, and when they want to take hold of something, as you call it, they just stand on one leg and hold it with the other. that’s a lot harder to do, and i’m sure he can’t do it. “mrs. nettla was not in any way inclined to admire anything about him. she hated him with all her heart. “he’s disgusting,” she said, and nothing would change her mind. and there was nobody who contradicted her, as there was nobody who found him very lovable. but the matter became even more confusing as they talked about it, saying he had a third hand, not just two hands but a third hand as well. mrs. nettla’s reply was curt. “that’s just an old wives’ tale,” she concluded. “i just don’t believe it.”
now ronno joined in. “so what?” he asked, “and what do you think it was that he used to shatter my leg? just tell me that, will you!”
mrs. nettla gave a glib retort. “that’s your affair, my love! he’s never shattered anything of mine.”
auntie ena said, “i’ve seen lots of different things in my life, and i think there must be something in it if he insists he’s got a third hand.”
young karus observed politely, “i can only agree with you there. there’s a crow who’s a friend of mine ...” he stopped in embarrassment for a short while and looked at all the people there as if he were afraid of being laughed at. but when he saw that they were listening to him and giving him all their attention, he continued. “the crow is exceptionally talented, i can’t deny that, she’s astonishingly talented. she told me that he really does have three hands, but not all the time. it’s that third hand, the crow told me, that’s the nasty one. it doesn’t grow out of him like the other two; he carries it hanging on his shoulder. the crow says she can always tell whether he or any of his kind is dangerous or not. if he comes along without that third hand then he isn’t dangerous.”
mrs. nettla laughed. “this crow of yours is just stupid, karus, take it from me, my love. if she was as clever as she thinks she is she’d know that he’s always dangerous –always!”
but the others had something to say too. “but there are some of them who are not dangerous at all,” bambi’s mother thought. “you can see it straight away.”
“so what?” asked mrs. nettla. “do you just stand there till they come up to you and say hello to them?”
bambi’s mother answered softly, “of course i don’t just stand there, i run away.”
and faline burst out with, “you should always run away!” everyone laughed. they continued talking about this third hand, and as they did so they became more serious and the sense of the horror of it came among them. whatever it was, a third hand or something different, it was something terrible, something they could not understand. most of them knew about it only from what they had been told by others, but some of them had seen it with their own eyes. he would stand there, a long way off, without moving, there was no way of explaining what he did or how it happened, but there would suddenly be a bang like thunder, fire sprayed out, and even at that distance from him you would collapse with your breast torn open, and you would die. they all lowered their heads while she told them this as if they were pressed down by some dark force that had some inexplicable power over them. they listened eagerly to the many different accounts of seeing him, and every story was full of horror, full of blood and suffering. they took all this in and still wanted to hear more of what was being said. stories that must have been made up, all the fairy tales and legends they had heard from their grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and as they listened they unconsciously learned, while still afraid, about how to make peace with this dark world or, at least, to run away from it.
“how does that happen, asked young karus, quite dispirited, “that he can be so far away and still knock you down?”
“didn’t your clever crow explain that to you?” sneered mrs. nettla.
“no,” said karus with a smile, “she says she’s often seen it, but no-one knows how to explain it.”
“well, he can even knock the crows down from the tree when he feels like it,” observed ronno.
“and he knocks the pheasants down from the sky,” auntie ena added.
bambi’s mother said, “he throws his hand out there. that’s what my grandmother told me.”
“does he really?” mrs. nettla asked. “and what is it that makes that horrible thunderous noise then?”
“when his hand tears itself away from his body,” bambi’s mother explained, “there’s a flash of fire and it makes a bang like thunder. on the inside that’s all he is, just fire.”
“excuse me,” said ronno. “there is some truth in saying he’s nothing but fire on the inside, but it’s wrong to say it’s his hand he uses. a strike from a hand could never cause injuries like that. you can see it for yourselves. it’s much more likely to be a tooth that he throws at us. think about it, that would explain a lot. and so you die because he bites you.”
young karus breathed a deep sigh. “will he never stop chasing us down?”
then marena spoke, the girl was now nearly an adult. “that means that one day he’ll come and join us and be as gentle as we are. he’ll play games with us, everyone in the forest will be happy and we’ll make peace together.”
mrs. nettla shrieked with laughter. “it’s best if he just stays where he is and leaves us alone!”
“you shouldn’t say things like that,” auntie ena admonished her.”
“and why not then?” retorted mrs. nettla as she became more heated. “that’s really not something i could imagine. make peace with him! he’s been murdering us for as long as we’ve been able to think, and our sisters and our mothers and our brothers! for all the time we’ve been in the world he never leaves us in peace, he kills us whenever he sees us ... and you want to make peace with him? that’s just so stupid!”
marena looked at everyone with her gently sparkling eyes wide open. “there’s nothing stupid about making peace,” she said. “we’ve got to make peace.”
“i’m going to get something to eat,” said mrs. nettla as she turned round and ran off.
