The
drive home seemed to take forever, so Fenton wasted no time finding the waiting
room of father's den, the words of his school chum still burning in his ears.
"Will you tell father that I need a
word with him?" he informed the butler breathlessly.
"Gracias," bowed the little man
in butler talk and entered the den.
Some moments later, there was Fenton,
staring at his father all the way across his desk.
"The problem," explained Fenton,
remembering to come straight to the point, "is that a school pal said that
being rich had nothing to do with taking risks.
But you always told me that the greater the risk the greater the
fortune. I didn't know what to say to
him."
Touching his watch, his father leaned back
in his chair and told Fenton the story of Bambi's first risk.
"One day, in the middle of the coldest
winter ever," he began, "Bambi and his mother were out in the woods
with Thumper and Flower, their non‑deer friends. Ignoring his mother's many warnings, Bambi
strayed into a clearing where two hunters were waiting. He scampered back as quickly as his little
feet could take him, but it was too late.
The hunters followed his trail back to their little corner of the deep
woods and shot his poor mother dead."
Moisture covered Fenton's eyes as he asked,
"What happened next?"
"Everyone fled at the sound of the
gunshot. Bambi hid behind some bracken
and watched as the hunters leaned over his fallen mother and spoke of how lucky
they were to spot the little fawn who led them to her.
"Bambi was sick with guilt. Why was he always so careless? Why hadn't he listened to her warnings? As darkness began to shroud his forest
world, Bambi felt helpless and all alone.
But his mother's words came back to him.
'Bambi,' she would say, 'the hunters may have guns, but if you are not
afraid to take risks you can deal with them as equals. You know the woods. Don't be afraid, little
one...'
"With these words ringing in his ears,
Bambi slowly walked out to face the hunters.
The sound of his little hooves as they crunched into the snow seemed as
loud as the big noise from the hunters' guns.
His heart began to beat in rhythm to his mother's words...'be
brave...take risks... be brave...take risks...'
"Finally, he made his way near to
where his mother lay. The snow was
bright red by her head. Eyes which had
seen Bambi take his first, faltering steps stared straight ahead, vacantly. He realized that they would not now see his
first real grown‑up steps.
"Taking the biggest, deepest breath he
had ever taken, and thinking back for an instant of his happy times with
Thumper and Flower, he let the hunters see him, just as he had accidently done
moments before."
"Oh," Fenton broke in sadly,
"I don't want anything bad to happen to Bambi, please!"
"Relax!" snapped his father. He paused, leaned back and continued.
"Bambi's knees nearly buckled from
fear as he heard the same clicking noise he heard just before his mother had
been shot, but this time there was only silence and then the sound of the men's
footsteps following him.
"Bambi silently thanked his mother for
patiently teaching him the ins and out of the deep woods. His eyes brightened as he led the hunters to
a part of the woods which they would not be able to find their way out of.
"Bambi stopped suddenly and sniffed
the air. He looked at the hunters and
then back to a dark corner where Mary was hiding. Mary was the other deer that his mother would
speak to while they watched their offspring grow into adulthood. Bambi never felt more grown‑up than he
did at this moment. Mary looked at Bambi and
cocked her head. The snow fell
hypnotically. Suddenly a burst of shots
rang out, and Mary lay dead. Bambi
jumped from the force of the sound.
"As the gunshots rebounded in the air,
one of the hunters turned to Bambi and asked, 'What's your name, little
one?' When told, he said softly, 'Bambi,
this is the start of a beautiful relationship.'"
"You mean they became
friends?" interrupted Fenton, not
believing his ears.
"Oh, not friends," smiled father, carefully crossing
his legs. "It was a working
relationship. Bambi got food and
protection from the hunters in exchange for an inside track to the best deer
hide in that little neck of the woods."
"But didn't he feel awful about losing
his mother and all of their friends?"
"Certainly," replied father,
gesturing in that special way he had.
"But he felt worse about the prospect of a meatless winter."
Fenton was awed by his father in such
moments and wondered if he would grow to be as wise.
"Now," said father smartly as the watch began to
buzz, "it may be bed time. And you
can tell your school chum that people like Bambi who seize opportunities and
take risks, amount to something in our society ‑‑ or at
least," he added bitterly,
"should."
As his father rang for Fenton to be put to
bed, Fenton asked, "What happened to Bambi?"
"Oh," his father replied
absently, "merger, I suppose. But
that's not the point. Good night."
While Fenton lay in bed, unsettling
questions kept racing through his mind...
"Suppose," he thought to himself,
"other little deer got the same notion and went into competition with
Bambi? What if Bambi ran out of deer to
provide to the hunters? What if people
stopped wanting deerskin jackets? What
if the hunters got special machines that let them find deer without Bambi's
help?" Father spoke admiringly of
machines that would replace the people at his offices.
Fenton's head spun with these questions and
more. The only thing he felt certain of
was that his school mate was wrong:
There was no end to the terrible risks that people like Bambi had to
take. He only hoped he would be able to
prove himself as brave.
-END-