He waited and listened carefully, occasionally making a gobbling sound hoping it would attract a curious hen or an adventurous, amorous jake.Yelping, ...hirping, and purring were not in his vocabulary. Gobbling was fun and he had practiced a lot, making Fifi, Trish and little Matthew squirm with laughter.Clucking, which he learned in copious measure from the chickens, came easy, but nothing seemed to arouse any responses.Clark was not one to run out of patience or give up easily. His grandfather. Renée came over to me and I realized my eyes had acclimated to the powerful green lights.“I was thinking of starting down that end and then crossing the bottom. We could climb the ladders at the ends and zigzag up to the top floor. See if we could find--”“There’s no point, the only things that are different are way down that way,” Mrs Leifson gestured to the far end of the hallway, “Or you could maybe find a way up into the cranes.”I followed her fingers way up into the darkness. I frowned. I. More

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