when we were there. I would have wanted to say goodbye to him."

"My Father kept things to himself," he told her. "He only told me when he was ready to die. I think he did not want to bother us with his passing."

Gurri nodded and then leaned against him as Faline would do. "I suppose so," she muttered, "But I know Geno is angry. He feels that he should not have learned of Grandfather's death from Thumper."

He nodded his large head. "He is right, daughter, he should not of, but I was hurt by his sudden passing and I could not do it. All I told was your mother and the herd males."

There was a sudden cry from above and the sound of an impact. There was a shrill cry of pain and then quiet. He looked up and saw one of the hawks had dived and drove its sharp claws into a flying pigeon and was even now flying away to feed it to its nest.

"More death," Gurri said.

"And life," Bambi added. "That is one thing my Father taught me, they were both connected. One did not live unless one eats and one did not eat without killing something."

His daughter shook her head no. "We do not kill," she said.

"We eat grass, leaves, and flowers," he said. "They live too. We eat them, then others eat us, and still others eat them. It is all connected. For us to live, then the plants, or parts of them, must die. For the others to live, some of us must die."

"Well I do not feel like dying yet, Father," she said. "I want to find a good male and have my own fawns."

He looked down at her and suddenly realized his own daughter was now part of this same rhythm of birth and death. What could he do? The answer was simple, nothing. Her life and death, as well as his and all those around them, were a part of the greater forest. A part he knew he could never do anything about. He looked down at the growing doe next to him. "I hope you will, My Daughter, but for now I worry about your mother. It is never easy to give birth."

It was late in the day when he noticed movement by the thicket. He saw Faline come out and stagger away into the woods heading for a nearby stream. She looked tired. The birth must have been difficult.

"Gurri, go see if your mother needs help," he told her. In a flash, his daughter was off. He got up and walked over to the thicket. When he got within several lengths of it, the odor of blood was clear to him. Although very faint, he could smell two scents coming from inside the shaded thicket. He put his head into the small opening and there lay two quivering mounds of brown fur. He went over and smelled them more closely. Both smelled normal, both looked healthy, and both were doe. He had two new daughters. Both were asleep. He took his head out and then walked a short way away from the den and lay down in front of the opening to the thicket. It was a while later Faline came back along with Gurri. She looked at him and smiled.

"You have seen your daughters?" Faline said.

"Yes," he said with glee. "They both look healthy."

He then got up and walked over to his mate and then in front of Gurri, kissed her gently on the mouth and nuzzled her along the side of her face. "Thank you again for this greatest of all gifts," he whispered in her ear.

His mate just leaned against him and once again, he understood why he had chosen this doe has his only mate and companion. The other males may breed as many doe as they could during the season and then leave. He was more than content to have just this one.

"That one," she pointed to the fawn on the right I will call Lina. The other is Eta, I named after my mother's sister."

"Was it hard?" he asked.

"Not hard, but long," she said. He voice still sounded a little ragged.

"Go rest," he told her gently. "I will stay here. No one will bother you while I am here."

"Thank you," Faline said and the turned to Gurri. "I am fine now. Thank you, daughter, but you should go now and join your friends."

He nodded his approval and his daughter ran off raising her white fluffy tail.

"She reminds me of you," he said.

"I hope she is as happy as I am," Faline went on. She then went inside the thicket and he lay down in the grass several lengths away. He was a bit disappointed he did not get a son this time, but there was always next spring. That is assuming they were both still alive by then.

He stayed near the fawns for a few days until they were old enough to follow their mother. He would go out on the meadow just before dawn to see all the doe and the new fawns. There were many. It was when he was out there one morning that Celon came up to him.

"That new deer is nearby. I saw him yesterday," he said.

"If he comes to the meadow, I will talk to him," he replied.

"I noticed he usually eats at night and is off the meadow by now," Celon continued.

That sounded like a smart deer. He did the same, but only around the start of the Season when he knew Man was nearby. "Thank you, Celon; I will come to the meadow tonight."

The large male moved away leaving him alone. The other males like Kragus and Ronno just ignored him. The great light rose so he moved further away from the meadow and hid in the nearby trees. As the light increased, he noticed many deer, mostly the yearlings, wandered onto the open meadow. That bothered him. Any man in the forest would have his pick of deer. Granted Man usually killed older deer, but he could never be sure of that. He went back to Faline's thicket and watched it from afar for the rest of the day.

That night he was back near the meadow. He waited for the lesser light to rise. He looked over the meadow closely. At first, nothing changed, then late that night he saw something move quietly through the trees at the far end of the large opening. A large male walked into the meadow and immediately started to feed. He was definitely no deer from his herd. He watched him eat. He was as large as he was and looked about as old, maybe a year older. He had a large flank and large shoulders. His muscles were full. It was too early to tell about his rack. He looked and smelled and sensing no danger, he walked into the open meadow toward the new deer. As he got closer, the new deer stopped eating and looked up at him. He moved forward keeping his head high and not showing any threat. When he got within a few lengths, he stopped and introduced himself.

"I am Bambi, herd leader of this forest. I have not seen you before. May I ask your name?"

"I am Filon," the deer spoke up. His voice was strong. "I have heard other deer talk about you. Is there a problem?"

"No," Bambi said. "As herd leader, I try to know all the deer in the forest. Are you from another forest?"

"Yes," he said plainly. "I am from the forest on the other side of the great meadow Man grows food in."

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I did not like the other herd so I left. I crossed the large open meadow until I saw this forest so I came here."

That put him off. Deer are herd animals. They follow the herd. That someone left his herd made him suspicious. "Very well, welcome to this herd. I see you only feed at night. Is it because of Man?"

"Yes," he answered. "My Father taught me that Man does not like night so it is safer being in the open."

"That is wise,” he nodded. "My Father taught me the same thing. Who is your father?"

"His name was Alass," Filon said."He was a senior male in the other herd. He is gone now as is my mother."

"So is my mother and father," he said. "Will you join this herd?"

"I do not wish to join any herd," the big deer said almost as if insulted. "I am not a herd deer. I do what I think is best and not because some herd thinks so. That is why I stay mostly by myself."

It was a little like hearing his Father again. "It is also wisest to be alone," he added. "One is free to think better when they are alone, but being near a herd can warn you of danger," "It is also easier to get doe in The Season."

"I never had a problem getting doe," the male said. "Those who try to stop me, end up regretting it. As for danger, it does not matter. We all end up dead in the end. Whether some Man using his killing sticks to make holes in us, or a bear runs us down and breaks our necks, or a pack of coyotes mauls us to death. In the end, how we die is unimportant. We all become food to feed someone. The trick is to stay alive as long as you can and enjoy life as much as you can."

That was his point; others help you stay alive. "Yes, but a herd does that. A herd watches for danger better because they can look in all directions at once. A herd can spot danger earlier so it is easier to flee. With a herd, there are many deer instead of only one or two who are the prey. It is easier to get away from danger when there are many fleeing at once."

Filon nodded, "That is true, Bambi, but a herd thinks like a herd. A herd will do the same thing over and over again because they cannot think of another way to do it. A herd takes time to decide. A herd is only as wise as the most stupid member. When a herd flees, they flee as a herd. Those that hunt us know this and so they know how the herd will behave when they come after us. I rather do something different and stay away from danger. This is why I avoid herds. So far it has kept me alive through five springs."

"Is that why you left your old herd?" he

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