Lost in the Storm - Bambi's Quest for Safety

By Richard Compton

"Lost in the Storm: Bambi's Quest for Safety" is a poignant tale of survival and resilience set in the heart of a vast and unforgiving forest. As the story unfolds, readers are immersed in the captivating world of Bambi, a young deer, who finds himself thrust into a harrowing journey for survival amidst the chaos of a raging storm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Compton
• Release date: Jun 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798330221349

Book preview

Group Default_Capture_the_serene_beauty_of_the_forest_where_the_deer_1.jpg Lost in the Storm… Lost in the Storm Bambi's Quest for Safety Line Line Richard Compton

CHAPTER 1

He arrived in the world amidst the dense thicket, nestled within a small, hidden forest glade that appeared open yet was truly enclosed by nature's embrace. The space was scant, barely enough to accommodate him and his mother.

He stood there, swaying unsteadily on his frail legs, his clouded eyes gazing vacantly ahead, seeing nothing. His head hung low, his body trembling, still utterly bewildered by his new surroundings.

What a beautiful child, exclaimed the magpie.

Drawn by the deep groans of the laboring mother, the magpie had flown past and now perched on a nearby branch. What a beautiful child, she repeated, her voice filled with curiosity. Receiving no response, she continued chattily, Isn’t it remarkable that he can get up and walk right away? How fascinating! I’ve never seen anything like it in all my days. Of course, I’m still quite young, only a year out of the nest, but it’s simply wonderful. A child like that, barely a minute old and already beginning to walk! Truly extraordinary. Do you think he can run, too?

Of course, replied the mother softly. But forgive me if I don’t converse much now. I have so much to do and still feel a bit faint.

Don’t trouble yourself on my account, said the magpie. I’m pressed for time too. But you don’t witness such a sight every day. Consider the care and attention we birds must give. Once hatched, our young lie helpless in the nest, requiring constant feeding and protection. Just imagine the strain of hunting for their food and staying vigilant to ensure their safety. They’re defenseless without us. Isn’t it true? And it takes so long before they can move on their own, before they even start to look like birds.

Pardon, replied the mother, I wasn’t listening.

The magpie flew off. A simple soul, she mused, very kind, but simple.

The mother hardly noticed her departure, absorbed in washing her newborn. With gentle licks, she caressed and massaged his tiny body, her touch a warm embrace.

The frail fawn staggered slightly. Under the soothing strokes of her tongue, he gathered himself and stood still. His tousled red coat, adorned with delicate white spots, bore a sleepy, vague expression on his baby face.

Around them grew hazel bushes, dogwoods, black-thorns, and young elders. Tall maples, beeches, and oaks wove a green canopy overhead. From the firm, dark-brown earth, fern fronds, wood-vetch, and sage sprouted. Beneath, the leaves of violets that had already bloomed and strawberries just beginning to flower clung to the ground. Through the dense foliage, early sunlight filtered in a golden web. The forest was alive with myriad voices, a joyful cacophony. Wood-thrushes sang incessantly, doves cooed continuously, blackbirds whistled, finches warbled, and titmice chirped. Amidst this symphony, jays screeched, magpies mocked, and pheasants cackled loudly. Occasionally, the exultant drumming of a woodpecker rose above the other sounds. The falcon's call pierced the treetops, while the hoarse cawing of crows provided a constant backdrop.

The little fawn understood none of the many songs and calls, not a word of the forest conversations. He did not listen to them. Nor did he heed the various scents wafting through the woods. He heard only the soft licking against his coat, washing, warming, and kissing him. He smelled nothing but his mother’s comforting presence. Her scent was a balm to him, and nestling closer, he eagerly sought and found nourishment.

As he suckled, the mother continued to caress her little one. Bambi, she whispered. Every so often, she lifted her head, listening, sniffing the air. Then, reassured and content, she kissed her fawn again.

Bambi, she repeated softly. My little Bambi.

CHAPTER II

In the early summer, the trees stood still under the blue sky, their limbs outstretched to embrace the sun's direct