“No,” said his mother, “to us deer.” “What are deer?” Bambi asked, and laughed. His mother looked at him from head to foot and laughed too. “You are a deer and I am a deer. We’re both deer,” she said. “Do you understand?” Bambi sprang into the air for joy. “Yes, I understand,” he said. “I’m a little deer and you’re a big deer, aren’t you?” His mother nodded and said, “Now you see.” But Bambi grew serious again. “Are there other deer besides you and me?” he asked. “Certainly,” his mother said. “Many of them.” “Where are they?” cried Bambi. “Here, everywhere.” “But I don’t see them.” “You will soon,” she said. “When?” Bambi stood still, wild with curiosity. “Soon.” The mother walked on quietly. Bambi followed her. He kept silent for he was wondering what “soon” might mean. He came to the conclusion that “soon” was certainly not “now.” But he wasn’t sure at what time “soon” stopped being “soon” and began to be a “long while.” Suddenly he asked, “Who made this trail?” “We,” his mother answered. Bambi was astonished. “We? You and I?” The mother said, “We, we ... we deer.” Bambi asked, “Which deer?” “All of us,” his mother said sharply. They walked on. Bambi was in high spirits and felt like leaping off the path, but he stayed close to his mother. Something rustled in front of them, close to the ground. 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.”