Where the Crawdads Sing

by Delia Owens

geese—were piled on the land or in the water. A man who didn’t mind scrabbling for supper would never starve. It was now

they reached the large oak that

edge of the woods. She and Pa did this two-step, living apart in the same shack, sometimes not seeing each

maneuvered

outta

whitetail doe

outta here, ya little beggar-hen.

hoping to see him again.

at his