From "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

He never could stop lecturing , Kynes thought. Lecturing, lecturing, lecturing—always lecturing .
The hawk hopped one step closer to Kynes' outstretched hand, turned its head first one way and then the other to study the exposed flesh.
"Arrakis is a one-crop planet," his father said. "One crop. It supports a ruling class that lives as ruling classes have lived in all times while, beneath them, a semihuman mass of semislaves exists on the leavings. It's the masses and the leavings that occupy our attention. These are far more valuable than has ever been suspected."
"I'm ignoring you, Father," Kynes whispered. "Go away."
And he thought: Surely there must be some of my Fremen near. They cannot help but see the birds over me. They will investigate if only to see if there's moisture available .
"The masses of Arrakis will know that we work to make the land flow with water," his father said. "Most of them, of course, will have only a semimystical understanding of how we intend to do this. Many, not understanding the prohibitive mass-ratio problem, may even think we'll bring water from some other planet rich in it. Let them think anything they wish as long as they believe in us."
In a minute I'll get up and tell him what I think of him , Kynes thought. Standing there lecturing me when he should be helping me .
The bird took another hop closer to Kynes' outstretched hand. Two more hawks drifted down to the sand behind it.
"Religion and law among our masses must be one and the same," his father said. "An act of disobedience must be a sin and require religious penalties. This will have the dual benefit of bringing both greater obedience and greater bravery. We must depend not so much on the bravery of individuals, you see, as upon the bravery of a whole population."
Where is my population now when I need it most? Kynes thought. He summoned all his strength, moved his hand a finger's width toward the nearest hawk. It hopped backward among its companions and all stood poised for flight.
"Our timetable, will achieve the stature of a natural phenomenon," his father said. "A planet's life is a vast, tightly interwoven fabric. Vegetation and animal changes will be determined at first by the raw physical forces we manipulate. As they establish themselves, though, our changes will become controlling influences in their own right—and we will have to deal with them, too. Keep in mind, though, that we need control only three per cent of the energy surface—only three per cent—to tip the entire structure over into our self-sustaining system."
Why aren't you helping me? Kynes wondered. Always the same: when I need you most, you fail me . He wanted to turn his head, to stare in the direction of his father's voice, stare the old man down. Muscles refused to answer his demand.
Kynes saw the hawk move. It approached his hand, a cautious step at a time while its companions waited in mock indifference. The hawk stopped only a hop away from his hand.
A profound clarity filled Kynes' mind. He saw quite suddenly a potential for Arrakis that his father had never seen. The possibilities along that different path flooded through him.
"No more terrible disaster could befall your people than for them to fall into the hands of a Hero," his father said.
Reading my mind! Kynes thought. Well . . . let him .
The messages already have been sent to my sietch villages , he thought. Nothing can stop them. If the Duke's son is alive they'll find him and protect him as I have commanded. They may discard the woman, his mother, but they'll save the boy .
The hawk took one hop that brought it within slashing distance of his hand. It tipped its head to examine the supine flesh. Abruptly, it straightened, stretched its head upward and with a single screech, leaped into the air and banked away overhead with its companions behind it.
They've come! Kynes thought. My Fremen have found me!
Then he heard the sand rumbling.
Every Fremen knew the sound, could distinguish it immediately from the noises of worms or other desert life. Somewhere beneath him, the pre-spice mass had accumulated enough water and organic matter from the little makers, had reached the critical stage of wild growth. A gigantic bubble of carbon dioxide was forming deep in the sand, heaving upward in an enormous "blow" with a dust whirlpool at its center. It would exchange what had been formed deep in the sand for whatever lay on the surface.
The hawks circled overhead screeching their frustration. They knew what was happening. Any desert creature would know.