Now he is very fond of the night. Everything is gay, everything is moving. You also, of course, have to be careful in the night time, but you have less to worry about and you can go anywhere you want to. And everywhere you go you come across people you know, and they too will be more carefree than they are at other times. In the night the forest is solemn and silent. There are voices to heard but just a few of them and in all this stillness they seem loud, and they sound different from the daytime voices and they have more effect. Bambi enjoyed hearing the owl. She is so dignified as she flies, perfectly silent, perfectly effortless. A butterfly is quiet just because of her size, but the owl is so immense. And her face is so imposing, so determined, full of so much thought, her eyes are so majestic. Bambi admires her firm gaze with its quiet courage. He enjoys listening when she talked with his mother one time, or with anyone else. He stands slightly to one side, a little afraid of that imperious gaze he admires so much, he does not understand much of the clever things she says, but he does know that they are clever, and that enchants him, fills him with admiration for the owl. The the owl begins her song. Haa-ah - - hahaha - - haa-ah! she sings. It sounds different from the song of the thrush or the golden oriole, different from the friendly motif of the cuckoo, but Bambi loves the song of the owl because he feels a secretive earnestness in it, an indescribable cleverness and a mysterious melancholy. Then the tawny owl is there again, a charming little lad. Dignified, faithful and more inquisitive than most, he always wants to stir up a fuss. Uy-iik! Uy-iik! he calls, in a voice that is shrill, terrifying and very piercing. It sounds as if his life were in danger. But he is a cheerful character and it delights him when he startles someone. Uy-iik! he shouts, so loudly that it alarms anyone in the wood within half an hour’s distance. But then he has a gentle cooing laugh, just for himself, and you can only hear if you are right next to him. Bambi had realized that the tawny owl is pleased when he startles somebody or if somebody thinks something awful has happened to him, and ever since, whenever the tawny owl is nearby, he rushes to him and asks, “Has something happened to you?,” or he might sigh and say, “Oh, you really startled me!” Then the owl feels very satisfied. “Yes, yes,” he says with a laugh, “it’s quite a distressing sound, isn’t it.” He puffs up his feathers so that he looks like a soft, grey ball, and looks very charming.
A couple of times there was even thunder and lightning, both day and night. The first time it was by day and Bambi felt how he became afraid when, in his leafy bedroom in the woods, it became darker and darker. It seemed to him that the night had fallen down from the sky in the middle of the day. Then, as the storm roared its way through the woods so that the mute trees began to groan loudly, Bambi shook with fear. And as the lightning lit up the sky and the thunder roared, Bambi went mad with the horror of it and thought the world was about to be torn to pieces. He ran behind his mother, who was slightly unsettled, had jumped to her feet and was walking to and fro in the thicket. He was unable to think, unable to understand. Then the rain burst down in an angry gush. Everyone had hidden himself away, the woods seemed empty, and there was nowhere to flee. Even in the thickest undergrowth you were whipped by the water as it rushed through. But the lightning stopped flashing, its fiery beams no longer flamed their way through the tops of the trees; the thunder moved away and there was only a distant rumbling to be heard before it was entirely silent. Now the rain became gentler. Its broad patter could be heard everywhere but powerfully for another hour, the forest stood breathing deeply in the still air and allowed itself to be soaked, no-one, now, was afraid to stand in the open. That feeling was gone, washed away by the rain.
Bambi and his mother had never gone out onto the meadow as early as they did that evening. In fact it was hardly even evening. The sun was still high in the sky, there was a powerful freshness in the air, it had a richer fragrance than at other times and the woods sang with a thousand voices, for everyone had come out of his hiding place and was hurrying round to each other in their excitement to tell them about what they had just experienced.
Before stepping onto the meadow they had to pass by a big oak tree standing right at the edge of the woods, just beside their path. They had to pass by this big, beautiful tree every time they went out onto the meadow. This time there was the squirrel sitting on one of its branches, and he wished them good evening. Bambi and the squirrel were good friends with each other. The first time he met him Bambi thought the squirrel was a very small deer because of his red coat, and stared at him in amazement. But Bambi really was too young at that time and simply could not understand anything. Right from the start, he felt an exceptional liking for the squirrel. He was so well mannered in every way, the way he spoke was so pleasant, and Bambi adored the wonderful way he performed acrobatics, how he climbed, how he jumped and how he kept his balance. He would take part in the conversation while running up and down the smooth trunk of the tree as if that were nothing at all. He sat upright on a branch of the tree as it moved to and fro, he leant comfortably against his bushy tail which rose up high and handsome behind him, he showed his white breast, moved his front paws with great elegance, turned his head to left and right, laughed with merry eyes and in a very short time he would say so many entertaining or interesting things. Then he came down from the tree again, and did so fast and in such jumps that anyone would think he was about to fall down onto your head. He swung his long red tail vigorously and said, “Hello, Hello! So nice of you to drop by!” while he was still far above Bambi’s head.
Bambi and his mother stood where they were.
The squirrel ran down the smooth trunk. “Now then,” he began to chat. “Did you understand that alright? I can see, of course, that everything’s nice and tidy. And that’s always the main thing after all.” As quick as a flash he ran back up the trunk, saying, “No, it’s too damp for me down there. Just a moment and I’ll find a better place. I hope you don’t mind. Thank you. I thought you wouldn’t mind. And we can talk just as well from where we are now.”
He ran to and fro on a level branch. “What a business that was!” he continued. “So much noise, such a scandal that was! Just think how shocked I am. You squeeze yourself into a nook, keep perfectly quiet, hardly daring to move. That’s the worst thing of all, sitting there like that without moving. You hope, of course, that nothing’s going to happen, don’t you, and my tree certainly is especially suited for that sort of trick, no, it can’t be denied, my tree is especially suited ... it has to be said. I am content. However far I roam I don’t wish for any other. But when things happen like they did today it does get you so upset, it’s disgusting.”
The squirrel sat there, his beautiful erect tail close behind him, he showed the white of his breast and held his two front paws emotionally pressed against his heart. It was obvious that when he said he had been made cross he was telling the truth.
“We want to go out onto the meadow, now,” said Bambi’s mother, “so that we can dry ourselves off in the sunshine.”
“Oh, what a good idea,” the squirrel exclaimed. “You really are so clever, really, I always say that you are so clever!” With a single leap he was on a branch higher up. “There’s nothing better that you could do now than to go out onto the meadow,” he called down. Then he rushed around in nimble leaps hither and thither and up into the canopy of the trees. “I want to get up to where I can get some sunshine,” he chatted contentedly, “we’re all soaking wet! I want to get right up high!” He was not at all concerned about whether anyone was still listening to him.