George didn't know anything about weather watching.  He left that to the older, more experienced mice.  His interests tended to be more...earthy.  Much more earthy, in fact, considering that many of the things which he was interested in, and fascinated by, tended to come out of the earth.  Stones, for one; he was always on the lookout for new and interesting stones.  Bits of metal, coins, sticks, junk, things that other mice threw away, George tended to collect and keep.  Something useful could always be made out of anything, he liked to say.  He was a bit of a packrat, pun intended, in that regard; his pockets tended to brim and bulge at the seams with various bits and bobs of twine, sticks, coins, flint, and buttons.<br/><br/>Perhaps his pride and joy was his mushroom press.  Mushrooms were George's true passion, his<em>joie de vivre</em>. He had a collection, dried and powdered, obviously, in small bags, of everything from Sprucestuck Giant White to Port Sumac Spotted Chestnut.   Whenever he was not working at the forge or tinkering on something--which wasn't often--he liked to go out foraging, hoping to encounter some new and exciting species of mushroom.  Unfortunately, he'd pretty much catalogued all the types of mushroom around Lockhaven, and so he was always eager to participate in scouting missions.<br/><br/>When Marlie, the Patrol Leader, scrambled up upon her rock to scry the weather,  George took the opportunity to sit down upon a fallen branch and nibble on a bit of gabcroon.  It wasn't that he was winded by the journey, not at all; a lifetime of working in the Lockhaven Armoury had given him a stout build and a healthy muscle.  But he saw no reason to expend energy when it wasn't required.  So he simply waited, the largest barrel of scent on his back, for the other two to discuss the weather and for Marlie to decide upon the best path ahead.