“Don’t talk to me about relations,” the owl exclaimed, “I’ve got relations too. But I only fly around in the daytime so they are all down on me now. No, there isn’t much use in relations. If they’re bigger than you are, they’re no good to you, and if they’re smaller they’re worth still less. If they’re bigger than you, you can’t bear them because they’re proud, and if they’re smaller they can’t bear you because you’re proud. No, I prefer to have nothing to do with the whole crowd.” “But, I don’t even know my relations,” Bambi said, laughing shyly, “I never heard of them, I never saw them before to-day.” “Don’t bother about such people,” the screech-owl advised. “Believe me,” and he rolled his eyes significantly, “believe me, it’s the best way. Relatives are never as good as friends. Look at us, we’re not related in any way but we’re good friends and that’s much better.” Bambi wanted to say something else but the screech-owl went on, “I’ve had experience with such things. You are still too young but, believe me, I know better. Besides, I don’t like to get mixed up in family affairs.” He rolled his eyes thoughtfully and looked so impressive with his serious face that Bambi kept a discreet silence. CHAPTER VII Another night passed and morning brought an event. It was a cloudless morning, dewy and fresh. All the leaves on the trees and the bushes seemed suddenly to smell sweeter. The meadows sent up great clouds of perfume to the tree-tops. “Peep!” said the tit-mice when they awoke. They said it very softly. But since it was still gray dawn they said nothing else for a while. For a time it was perfectly still. Then a crow’s hoarse, rasping caw sounded far above in the sky. The crows had awakened and were visiting one another in the tree-tops. The magpie answered at once, “Shackarakshak! Did you think I was still asleep?” Then a hundred small voices started in very softly here and there. “Peep! peep! tiu!” Sleep and the dark were still in these sounds. And they came from far apart. Suddenly a blackbird flew to the top of a beech. She perched way up on the topmost twig that stuck up thin against the sky and sat there watching how, far away over the trees, the night-weary, pale-gray heavens were glowing in the distant east and coming to life. Then she commenced to sing.