Chilly weather persisted with its wintry breath. The sky and the earth seemed cut off from each other. But though gray clouds still masked the sun, the trees began to sprout delicate young leaves. Bitter-cold rain poured down, yet the grass sprouted afresh and the flowers bloomed. Icy winds swept through the forest, but the migrating birds returned joyfully, built their nests and sang as if it were really spring. The roebucks grew their new horns and would soon be rubbing off their coverings. Their red summer coats, however, were not yet growing properly, so that they went around in off-colored dress from which thick tufts of hair hung loose. The same thing happened to the coats of the great stags, who looked very shabby. They had lived through the winter in herds, once again experiencing the shame of bald heads. Now their crowns sprouted anew, looking fantastically magnified by the covering. Tambo’s crown rose slowly, but to great height. It was almost ready to give him the delight of rubbing it off.
