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小主人公裘弟跟随父母来到未开垦的丛林生活，父亲勇敢坚定，一双灵巧的手盖起坚固耐用的小木屋；母亲勤劳朴实，忙碌的身影支撑起所有家事。在这里，裘弟有一个色彩斑斓的童年：在爸爸身旁看鹤群跳舞、在妈妈的餐桌上大快朵颐，还和捡到的小鹿“小旗”在丛林里奔跑、在被窝里说话、在一起度过每个日夜……
但随着裘弟和小鹿的一同成长，不幸接踵而至。父亲的意外负伤，母亲的艰辛，长大的小旗野性萌发屡屡破坏作物，裘弟的家庭陷入一片凄雨愁云当中，裘弟开始认识到生活的沉重。那是裘弟童年的最后一天，他含泪打死了他的小旗。他的童年随着那一声枪响，随着小鹿悲伤的眼睛而一去不回。父亲贝尼告诉裘弟：“没有人背叛了你，是生活背叛了你”。
（编者注：yearling一词表示“满一岁的动物”。）
《一岁的小鹿》（The Yearling，又译《鹿苑长春》）是1939年美国普利策奖获奖作品，并且名列美国当年畅销书排行榜榜首。小说通过小主人公裘弟和他的小鹿的故事，生动地描写了美国南北战争后佛罗里达州垦荒区普通人民的劳动、斗争和悲欢离合。作品充满浓郁的乡土气息，其迷人的自然风景描写赢得了广泛的赞誉。这部作品还被选入美国中小学教材，影响了一代又一代美国人。1946年好莱坞将这部小说搬上银幕，绚丽的田园景色加上格里高利·派克（Gregory Peck）的出色表演使之大获成功。
There was no ache in his legs， as when he 1）hoed the corn. He slowed down to make the road last longer. He had passed the big pines and left them behind. Where he walked now， the 2）scrub had closed in， walling in the road with dense sand pines， each one so thin it seemed to the boy it might make 3）kindling by itself. The road went up an incline. At the top he stopped. The April sky was framed by the 4）tawny sand and the pines. It was as blue as his 5）homespun shirt， dyed with Grandma Hutto’s indigo. Small clouds were 6）stationary， like bolls of cotton. As he watched， the sunlight left the sky a moment and the clouds were gray.
“There’ll come a little old 7）drizzly rain before night-fall，” he thought.
The down grade tempted him to a 8）lope. He reached the thick-bedded sand of the Silver 9）Glen road. The tar-flower was in bloom， and fetterbush and sparkleberry. He slowed to a walk， so that he might pass the changing vegetation tree by tree， bush by bush， each one unique and familiar. He reached the magnolia tree where he had carved the wildcat’s face. The growth was a sign that there was water nearby. It seemed a strange thing to him， when earth was earth and rain was rain， that 10）scrawny pines should grow in the scrub， while by every branch and lake and river there grew magnolias. Dogs were the same everywhere， and oxen and 11）mules and horses. But trees were different in different places.
“12）Reckon it’s because they can’t move none，” he decided. They took what food was in the soil under them.
The east bank of the road 13）shelved suddenly. It dropped below him 20 feet to a spring. The bank was dense with magnolia and loblolly bay， sweet gum and gray-barked ash. He went down to the spring in the cool darkness of their shadows. A sharp pleasure came over him. This was a secret and lovely place.
A spring as clear as well water bubbled up from nowhere in the sand. It was as though the banks cupped green 14）leafy hands to hold it. There was a 15）whirlpool where the water rose from the earth. Grains of sand boiled in it. Beyond the bank， the parent spring bubbled up at a higher level， cut itself a channel through white 16）limestone and began to run rapidly down-hill to make a creek. The creek joined Lake George， Lake George was a part of the St. John’s River， the great river flowed northward and into the sea. It excited Jody to watch the beginning of the ocean. There were other beginnings， true， but this one was his own. He liked to think that no one came here but himself and the wild animals and the thirsty birds. He was warm from his 17）jaunt. The dusky glen laid cool hands on him. He rolled up the hems of his blue 18）denim breeches and stepped with bare dirty feet into the shallow spring. His toes sunk into the sand. It 19）oozed softly between them and over his bony ankles. The water was so cold that for a moment it burned his skin. Then it made a 20）rippling sound， flowing past his pipestem legs， and was entirely delicious. He walked up and down， digging his big toe experimentally under smooth rocks he encountered. A school of 21）minnows flashed ahead of him down the growing branch. He chased them through the shallows. They were suddenly out of sight as though they had never existed. He crouched under a bared and overhanging live-oak root where a pool was deep， thinking they might reappear， but only a spring frog 22）wriggled from under the mud， stared at him， and dove under the tree root in a 23）spasmodic terror. He laughed.
“I ain’t no’ coon. I’d not ketch you，” he called after it.
A breeze parted the 24）canopied limbs over him. The sun dropped through and lay on his head and shoulders. It was good to be warm at his head while his hard 25）calloused feet were cold. The breeze died away， the sun no longer reached him. He waded across to the opposite bank where the growth was more open. A low palmetto brushed him. It reminded him that his knife was snug in his pocket； that he had planned as long ago as Christmas， to make himself a 26）flutter-mill.
他觉得两腿并不像锄地时那么酸痛了。他逐渐放慢了步子，以延长在路上逗留的时间。他已经跑过那些高大的松树，而且把它们抛到后面去了。丛林从两边迫近了他现在走着的地方，密密层层的沙松像墙一样紧夹着这条路。每一棵是那样的细，在孩子看来，简直可以直接用来作引火柴。路，爬上了一个斜坡，他在坡顶停了下来。四月的天空，好像被嵌入了由黄褐色的沙地和苍松构成的画框。它蓝得像裘弟身上用赫妥婆婆的靛青染的土布衬衣。一些像棉玲似的小云朵在那儿静静地浮着。当他注视着天空时，阳光隐没了一会儿，于是云朵转成了灰色。
“黄昏前要下点毛毛雨了，”他想。
下坡路使他不由自主地跑了起来。他已来到了满铺着细沙的去银谷的路。沥青花、链木丛与火莓子到处盛开着。他放慢速度走了起来，这样，他可以经过那些千姿百态的植物，一棵树接着一棵树，一丛灌木接着一丛灌木，每一种都显得既新奇又熟悉。他来到了那棵他曾在树干上刻上了野猫脸的木兰树跟前。这木兰树的生长就是近旁有水的标记。他感到很奇怪，为什么同样是泥土和雨水，在丛林地上长着的是瘦瘠的松材，而在小溪、河流和湖泊的近旁，却长着高大的本兰树。狗哪里都是一样的，牛啦，骡子啦，马啦，也是一样的；唯独树就不同，不同的地方就有不一样的树。
“想必是因为它们不能移动，”他下了结论。它们只能吃它们下面泥土里的东西。
路的东坡突然倾斜了下去。它在他脚下陡然跌落了二十尺光景，直通泉边。坡岸上密密地长满了木兰树、戈登木、香胶树和灰皮的梣木。他在凉快而幽暗的树荫下走向小泉，一阵突发的愉悦感攫住了他。这真是个隐蔽而又可爱的地方啊。
一泓像井水一般清冽的泉水，也不知是从沙地的什么地方涌出来的，正在噗噗地往外冒泡。坡岸好似用它翠绿色的、枝叶茂盛的双手，捧着这泓泉水。水从沙土里升起的地方有一个漩涡。沙粒在里面上下翻滚着。越过泉岸，一道主源正在更高的地方潺潺作声，它在白色的石灰岩中打开一条通道，然后急速地冲下山岗，形成了一道溪流。这条溪连接着乔治湖，乔治湖又是圣约翰河的一部分，而浩浩荡荡的圣约翰河又朝北流入了大海。观察着大海的源头，使裘弟无比兴奋。不错，大海还有其他源头，但这一个却是他自己的。他高兴地想到，除了那些寻求解渴的鸟兽和他自己之外，再也没有人到过这里了。
这一阵子漫游使他热了起来。幽暗的山谷好似伸出它凉快的手掌在抚摸着他，他卷起了蓝斜纹布裤腿，抬起他的肮脏光脚丫子，一步步走进了那泓浅浅的泉水。他的脚趾已陷进沙里去了。细沙从他的脚趾缝中软绵绵地挤出来，盖上了他瘦削的脚踝。水是那样的冷，一瞬间，皮肤就像火灼一般。然后，泉水冲过他精瘦的小腿，发出了淙淙的响声，使他感到通体舒畅。他上上下下地涉着水，尝试着把他的大脚趾伸到他碰到的那些光滑的岩石下面去。一群鲦鱼在他前面一闪，向下面逐渐宽阔的溪流游去。他穿行在浅水里追逐着它们。突然，它们一下子不见了，好像它们从来没有存在过一般。于是，他蹲到一棵树根大部分裸露而且悬空的老槲树下面去，那儿有一个深潭。他想，那群鲦鱼也许还会在潭水中出现；可是只有一只溪蛙从泥浆里挣扎了出来，它瞪视着他，突然惊恐地抖动着，一下子潜到那半浸在水中的树根底下去了。他不禁笑了起来。
“我不是浣熊，我不会来捉你的。”他在它后面叫道。
一阵微风拉开了他头上枝叶的帷幕。阳光透过来，照到他的头和肩膀上。当他那生着硬茧的双脚感到寒冷时，头上暖和和的很是舒服。微风消失了，阳光不再照到他身上。他涉水走上对岸，植物在那儿生得比较稀疏。一棵矮矮的扇棕榈的叶子刷了他一下。这提醒了他：他的衣袋里搁着柄小刀，而且远自去年圣诞节起，他就曾计划给自己制作一架玩具小水车。
但随着裘弟和小鹿的一同成长，不幸接踵而至。父亲的意外负伤，母亲的艰辛，长大的小旗野性萌发屡屡破坏作物，裘弟的家庭陷入一片凄雨愁云当中，裘弟开始认识到生活的沉重。那是裘弟童年的最后一天，他含泪打死了他的小旗。他的童年随着那一声枪响，随着小鹿悲伤的眼睛而一去不回。父亲贝尼告诉裘弟：“没有人背叛了你，是生活背叛了你”。
（编者注：yearling一词表示“满一岁的动物”。）
《一岁的小鹿》（The Yearling，又译《鹿苑长春》）是1939年美国普利策奖获奖作品，并且名列美国当年畅销书排行榜榜首。小说通过小主人公裘弟和他的小鹿的故事，生动地描写了美国南北战争后佛罗里达州垦荒区普通人民的劳动、斗争和悲欢离合。作品充满浓郁的乡土气息，其迷人的自然风景描写赢得了广泛的赞誉。这部作品还被选入美国中小学教材，影响了一代又一代美国人。1946年好莱坞将这部小说搬上银幕，绚丽的田园景色加上格里高利·派克（Gregory Peck）的出色表演使之大获成功。
There was no ache in his legs， as when he 1）hoed the corn. He slowed down to make the road last longer. He had passed the big pines and left them behind. Where he walked now， the 2）scrub had closed in， walling in the road with dense sand pines， each one so thin it seemed to the boy it might make 3）kindling by itself. The road went up an incline. At the top he stopped. The April sky was framed by the 4）tawny sand and the pines. It was as blue as his 5）homespun shirt， dyed with Grandma Hutto’s indigo. Small clouds were 6）stationary， like bolls of cotton. As he watched， the sunlight left the sky a moment and the clouds were gray.
“There’ll come a little old 7）drizzly rain before night-fall，” he thought.
The down grade tempted him to a 8）lope. He reached the thick-bedded sand of the Silver 9）Glen road. The tar-flower was in bloom， and fetterbush and sparkleberry. He slowed to a walk， so that he might pass the changing vegetation tree by tree， bush by bush， each one unique and familiar. He reached the magnolia tree where he had carved the wildcat’s face. The growth was a sign that there was water nearby. It seemed a strange thing to him， when earth was earth and rain was rain， that 10）scrawny pines should grow in the scrub， while by every branch and lake and river there grew magnolias. Dogs were the same everywhere， and oxen and 11）mules and horses. But trees were different in different places.
“12）Reckon it’s because they can’t move none，” he decided. They took what food was in the soil under them.
The east bank of the road 13）shelved suddenly. It dropped below him 20 feet to a spring. The bank was dense with magnolia and loblolly bay， sweet gum and gray-barked ash. He went down to the spring in the cool darkness of their shadows. A sharp pleasure came over him. This was a secret and lovely place.
A spring as clear as well water bubbled up from nowhere in the sand. It was as though the banks cupped green 14）leafy hands to hold it. There was a 15）whirlpool where the water rose from the earth. Grains of sand boiled in it. Beyond the bank， the parent spring bubbled up at a higher level， cut itself a channel through white 16）limestone and began to run rapidly down-hill to make a creek. The creek joined Lake George， Lake George was a part of the St. John’s River， the great river flowed northward and into the sea. It excited Jody to watch the beginning of the ocean. There were other beginnings， true， but this one was his own. He liked to think that no one came here but himself and the wild animals and the thirsty birds. He was warm from his 17）jaunt. The dusky glen laid cool hands on him. He rolled up the hems of his blue 18）denim breeches and stepped with bare dirty feet into the shallow spring. His toes sunk into the sand. It 19）oozed softly between them and over his bony ankles. The water was so cold that for a moment it burned his skin. Then it made a 20）rippling sound， flowing past his pipestem legs， and was entirely delicious. He walked up and down， digging his big toe experimentally under smooth rocks he encountered. A school of 21）minnows flashed ahead of him down the growing branch. He chased them through the shallows. They were suddenly out of sight as though they had never existed. He crouched under a bared and overhanging live-oak root where a pool was deep， thinking they might reappear， but only a spring frog 22）wriggled from under the mud， stared at him， and dove under the tree root in a 23）spasmodic terror. He laughed.
“I ain’t no’ coon. I’d not ketch you，” he called after it.
A breeze parted the 24）canopied limbs over him. The sun dropped through and lay on his head and shoulders. It was good to be warm at his head while his hard 25）calloused feet were cold. The breeze died away， the sun no longer reached him. He waded across to the opposite bank where the growth was more open. A low palmetto brushed him. It reminded him that his knife was snug in his pocket； that he had planned as long ago as Christmas， to make himself a 26）flutter-mill.
他觉得两腿并不像锄地时那么酸痛了。他逐渐放慢了步子，以延长在路上逗留的时间。他已经跑过那些高大的松树，而且把它们抛到后面去了。丛林从两边迫近了他现在走着的地方，密密层层的沙松像墙一样紧夹着这条路。每一棵是那样的细，在孩子看来，简直可以直接用来作引火柴。路，爬上了一个斜坡，他在坡顶停了下来。四月的天空，好像被嵌入了由黄褐色的沙地和苍松构成的画框。它蓝得像裘弟身上用赫妥婆婆的靛青染的土布衬衣。一些像棉玲似的小云朵在那儿静静地浮着。当他注视着天空时，阳光隐没了一会儿，于是云朵转成了灰色。
“黄昏前要下点毛毛雨了，”他想。
下坡路使他不由自主地跑了起来。他已来到了满铺着细沙的去银谷的路。沥青花、链木丛与火莓子到处盛开着。他放慢速度走了起来，这样，他可以经过那些千姿百态的植物，一棵树接着一棵树，一丛灌木接着一丛灌木，每一种都显得既新奇又熟悉。他来到了那棵他曾在树干上刻上了野猫脸的木兰树跟前。这木兰树的生长就是近旁有水的标记。他感到很奇怪，为什么同样是泥土和雨水，在丛林地上长着的是瘦瘠的松材，而在小溪、河流和湖泊的近旁，却长着高大的本兰树。狗哪里都是一样的，牛啦，骡子啦，马啦，也是一样的；唯独树就不同，不同的地方就有不一样的树。
“想必是因为它们不能移动，”他下了结论。它们只能吃它们下面泥土里的东西。
路的东坡突然倾斜了下去。它在他脚下陡然跌落了二十尺光景，直通泉边。坡岸上密密地长满了木兰树、戈登木、香胶树和灰皮的梣木。他在凉快而幽暗的树荫下走向小泉，一阵突发的愉悦感攫住了他。这真是个隐蔽而又可爱的地方啊。
一泓像井水一般清冽的泉水，也不知是从沙地的什么地方涌出来的，正在噗噗地往外冒泡。坡岸好似用它翠绿色的、枝叶茂盛的双手，捧着这泓泉水。水从沙土里升起的地方有一个漩涡。沙粒在里面上下翻滚着。越过泉岸，一道主源正在更高的地方潺潺作声，它在白色的石灰岩中打开一条通道，然后急速地冲下山岗，形成了一道溪流。这条溪连接着乔治湖，乔治湖又是圣约翰河的一部分，而浩浩荡荡的圣约翰河又朝北流入了大海。观察着大海的源头，使裘弟无比兴奋。不错，大海还有其他源头，但这一个却是他自己的。他高兴地想到，除了那些寻求解渴的鸟兽和他自己之外，再也没有人到过这里了。
这一阵子漫游使他热了起来。幽暗的山谷好似伸出它凉快的手掌在抚摸着他，他卷起了蓝斜纹布裤腿，抬起他的肮脏光脚丫子，一步步走进了那泓浅浅的泉水。他的脚趾已陷进沙里去了。细沙从他的脚趾缝中软绵绵地挤出来，盖上了他瘦削的脚踝。水是那样的冷，一瞬间，皮肤就像火灼一般。然后，泉水冲过他精瘦的小腿，发出了淙淙的响声，使他感到通体舒畅。他上上下下地涉着水，尝试着把他的大脚趾伸到他碰到的那些光滑的岩石下面去。一群鲦鱼在他前面一闪，向下面逐渐宽阔的溪流游去。他穿行在浅水里追逐着它们。突然，它们一下子不见了，好像它们从来没有存在过一般。于是，他蹲到一棵树根大部分裸露而且悬空的老槲树下面去，那儿有一个深潭。他想，那群鲦鱼也许还会在潭水中出现；可是只有一只溪蛙从泥浆里挣扎了出来，它瞪视着他，突然惊恐地抖动着，一下子潜到那半浸在水中的树根底下去了。他不禁笑了起来。
“我不是浣熊，我不会来捉你的。”他在它后面叫道。
一阵微风拉开了他头上枝叶的帷幕。阳光透过来，照到他的头和肩膀上。当他那生着硬茧的双脚感到寒冷时，头上暖和和的很是舒服。微风消失了，阳光不再照到他身上。他涉水走上对岸，植物在那儿生得比较稀疏。一棵矮矮的扇棕榈的叶子刷了他一下。这提醒了他：他的衣袋里搁着柄小刀，而且远自去年圣诞节起，他就曾计划给自己制作一架玩具小水车。