Between Uncle's house and the Yellam cottage stood a clump of firs, near the river. Each year, during the annual migration, ospreys, probably southward bound from Scotland, would roost for one night only in these firs. Uncle had watched them many a time. They would circle three times round the firs and then alight upon them. Always the young birds, that year's nestlings, would come first. The parent birds followed, perhaps two days later. The sense of direction, the triple circling round the same trees, on the part of young birds, who preceded their parents, filled Fancy with astonishment. Being urban, she delighted in Uncle's Arcadian lore. She asked him to explain this amazing performance.
"Birds be wiser than we, my girl."
Alfred had made the same remark about water-rats.
"How do they find their way, Uncle?"
"Ah-h-h! How does a young hound find his way back to kennels, when he be taken to a distant meet by train, to new country never seen afore? You answer me that."
"I can't. Can you?"
"I thinks I can. 'Tis fool-wisdom. Wimmenfolk has it, because they be nearer to the animals than we men."
Fancy wondered whether this was to be taken as a compliment. Uncle continued:
"Fool-wisdom comes from God A'mighty. We be told that He don't forget one sparrer. I never liked sparrers too well, because they interferes crool wi' the house-martins, pore lil' dears. Yas—God A'mighty guides they young ospreys. I've a notion that He'd guide us if so be as we weren't so set on guiding ourselves. That be the main trouble wi' my dear sister."
Fancy opened her eyes wide.