Missing some of the story? Click here!
Have a listen!
Jake wasn’t sure what to do next. The lead the postmaster gave them, while interesting, seemed like a big, fat dead end.
He’d already talked to Gilbert at the hatchery and had gotten nowhere.
You have to go back.
Jake shook his head, glaring at Pecky.
“Go back? How? Even if I could convince Mom we needed more chicks, there’s nothing more Gilbert will tell me.”
Pecky strutted back and forth in the pen, frustration simmering around him.
Jake looked at Pecky doubtfully.
No, really. Use me. Tell your mom that I’m not well. I’ll even act sick.
“I don’t know…Mom already suspects something and I don’t like keeping things from her…”
Then tell her.
Jake snorted and looked at the determined glint in Pecky’s eyes.
“Tell her that the chicken I named Pecky Greenleg is actually a rooster who can talk? Tell her that I’ve already talked to Gilbert at the hatchery and the postmaster? Tell her–“
Ok, ok! I get it. But we have to come up with something. I don’t belong here.
Jake looked down at Pecky and felt a twinge of sadness for him. How awful would it be not to know where you came from?
“Ok. I’ll figure out a way for us to get back to the hatchery.”