The fern fronds and wood lettuce concealed something that advanced in violent motion. A threadlike little cry shrilled out piteously; then all was still. Only the leaves and the blades of grass shivered back into place. A ferret had caught a mouse. He came slinking by, slid sideways, and prepared to enjoy his meal.

“What was that?” asked Bambi excitedly.

“Nothing,” his mother soothed him.

“But,” Bambi trembled, “but I saw it.”

“Yes, yes,” said his mother. “Don’t be frightened. The ferret has killed a mouse.” But Bambi was dreadfully frightened. A vast, unknown horror clutched at his heart. It was long before he could speak again. Then he asked, “Why did he kill the mouse?”

“Because—” his mother hesitated. “Let us walk faster,” she said, as though something had just occurred to her and as though she had forgotten the question. She began to hurry. Bambi sprang after her.

A long pause ensued. They walked on quietly again. Finally Bambi asked anxiously, “Shall we kill a mouse, too, sometime?”

“No,” replied his mother.

“Never?” asked Bambi.

“Never,” came the answer.

“Why not?” asked Bambi, relieved.

“Because we never kill anything,” said his mother simply.

Bambi grew happy again.

Loud cries were coming from a young ash tree which stood near their path. The mother went along without noticing them, but Bambi stopped inquisitively. Overhead two jays were quarreling about a nest they had plundered.

“Get away, you murderer!” cried one.

“Keep cool, you fool,” the other answered, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Look for your own nests,” the first one shouted, “or I’ll break your head for you.” He was beside himself with rage. “What vulgarity!” he chattered. “What vulgarity!”

The other jay had spied Bambi and fluttered down a few branches to shout at him. “What are you gawking at, you freak?” he screamed.

Bambi sprang away, terrified. He reached his mother and walked behind her again, frightened and obedient, thinking she had not noticed his absence.

After a pause he asked, “Mother, what is vulgarity?”

“I don’t know,” said his mother.

Bambi thought a while; then he began again. “Why were they both so angry with each other, Mother?” he asked.

“They were fighting over food,” his mother answered.

“Will we fight over food, too, sometime?” Bambi asked.

“No,” said his mother.

Bambi asked, “Why not?”

“Because there is enough for all of us,” his mother replied.

Bambi wanted to know something else. “Mother,” he began.

“What is it?”

“Will we be angry with each other sometime?” he asked.

“No, child,” said his mother, “we don’t do such things.”

They walked along again. Presently it grew light ahead of them. It grew very bright. The trail ended with the tangle of vines and bushes. A few steps more and they would be in the bright open space that spread out before them. Bambi wanted to bound forward, but his mother had stopped.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently, already delighted.

“It’s the meadow,” his mother answered.

“What is a meadow?” asked Bambi insistently.

His mother cut him short. “You’ll soon find out for yourself,” she said. She had become very serious and watchful.