“Because we’re moving about,” his mother answered, “it’s frightened.”
“Oh!” Bambi went over to the grasshopper, which was sitting right in the white dish of a daisy.
“Oh,” said Bambi politely, “you don’t need to be frightened, we certainly won’t do anything to you.”
“I’m not frightened,” the grasshopper retorted in a rasping voice. “I was just a bit startled at first, as I was speaking to my wife.”
“Please excuse us for disturbing you,” said Bambi modestly.
“That doesn’t matter,” the grasshopper rasped. “As it’s you it doesn’t matter. But you never know who might be coming, and you have to watch out for yourself.”
“I haven’t been out here on the meadow before,” Bambi told him. “My mother ...”
The grasshopper stood there with his head lowered in a way that made him look very cross, his face looked serious and he grumbled, “I’m not interested in that. I haven’t got the time to be here chatting with you, I’ve got to go and find my wife. Hop!” And he was gone.
“Hop,” said Bambi, rather puzzled and astonished at the height of the leap the grasshopper had made as he disappeared.
Bambi ran to his mother. “Listen ... I’ve just been talking with him!”