Once upon a time there was a deer—a doe—who gave birth to two little deers; and, as is very rare with such animals, the little deers were twins. However, a wildcat ate one of them; and the second, a female, had to live her childhood without a playmate.
She was such a beautiful little creature, nevertheless, that all the mother deers in the forest wished she belonged to them; and to show their affection they were always nipping gently at her ribs with their lips.
Every morning when the little deer got up out of bed, her mother would make her say the catechism which all deers learn when they are babies:
I. I must smell of each green leaf before I eat it; because some green leaves are poisonous.
II. I must stop and look carefully up and down the brook before I lower my head to drink; for otherwise an alligator may eat me.
III. I must lift my head every half hour and sniff carefully in all directions; otherwise a panther may steal up and catch me.
IV. I must look ahead of me when I am grazing in a meadow; otherwise a snake may bite me.
All good fawns learn this catechism by heart; and when this little deer could say it all by herself, her mother began to let her go away from home alone.
One afternoon in summer, when the fawn was wandering over the mountain side looking for the tenderest tufts of grass, she saw a tree with a hollow trunk in front of her. Inside it a number of small slate-colored bags were hanging.
“What in the world is that?” said the little deer to herself. She had never seen anything of just that kind! Now deers, like people, are inclined to be a bit disrespectful towards things they don’t understand. Those puffy slate-colored bags seemed to her about the most ridiculous things there was on earth! So she butted them with all her might.