The Adventures of General GrettaBot McDoglington Vs. the Squirrel Armada     

Day 3429

 (Author’s note- The Adventures of General Grettabot McDoglington is best read aloud using a super-hero voice, like Batman whispering.)

Comrades-

I have been re-stationed to a region in the North. My new post is a top-secret, highly embattled territory known to the locals as New Jersey. Often (while on patrol in the Subaru Humvee) the Leader refers to the local populations loudly and abruptly as #$*@&%$ Jersey Drivers! He raises a finger that I can only assume means number one in ranking for skill, since he only uses the one. Sometimes his exclamations are followed by a beep of the horn and always muttering about the how much the locals must love their mothers. This is just one more reason I fight the good fight.

Our barracks are part of a heavily fortified structure, located three levels above the battleground, up a winding staircase, behind several confusing sets of doors. It is also deep behind enemy lines. I have been here almost a month and am still ascertaining the correct procedure to enter and exit. Just yesterday, the Leader returned from a long day’s fight. He smelled of sweat and serpent musk. As per the new protocol, he attached a battle-lead to my uniform once he got to the top of the stairs. I was so eager to go on foot-patrol, I scouted ahead, down the stairs, at a full charge. Unfortunately, my battle-lead was wrapped around the Leader’s legs and since he was still facing the other direction when I shot past, he did not follow me down in the usual bi-pedal manner.

 Instead, he practiced a rare backwards combat roll. The purpose of the maneuver confused me.  I wouldn’t be an honest soldier if I said that I wasn’t frightened by the sudden clatter of elbows on stairs and the Leader’s head thudding into the wall at the bottom. He shouted a battle cry so loud upon its raucous completion that I was instantly spurned to further excitement and bloodlust, thus partially expressing it in liquid form on the floor beside him. I hadn’t been on foot-patrol in several hours and desperately needed a privy break.

As he slowly recovered to an upright position, he placed one knee and his hand into the fresh territorial marking puddle I had just created. Realizing what he had done, a fresh volley of battle cries ensued. Upon our eventual exit of the battlements, there was not a single tree-rat in sight. They had all been cowed by the Leader’s shouts to victory. In fact, the troops stationed on the first level of the fort came out to check for casualties. The Leader explained the situation while I stayed on guard and peed in the azaleas. You’re mine now, azaleas, freed from the tyranny of the bastardly squirrel armada.

And so we fight the good fight one more day, one shrub at a time. Until next time, comrades, remain vigilant!

-General Grettabot McDoglington

Side note- here is a link to the second half of the last Reptiles Magazine article I wrote about our adventures in Costa Rica. There is a link to the first half, if you haven't read it, at the beginning. Enjoy.

Mike's Adventures on the Devil's Butthole (Part 2)

The Adventures of General GrettaBot vs. the Squirrel Armada – Day 185667

(Author’s note- The Adventures of General GrettaBot is best read aloud using a super-hero voice, like Batman whispering.)

I fear for the Leader’s sanity. Let me explain. At first things were looking up. The Leader had finally started taking my council seriously on the subject of regular perimeter patrols. Several times a day we exit through the front gate on squirrel recon missions. I am outfitted with my full dress uniform (pink collar) to remind the vile tree rats of the rank of professional soldier they are dealing with. The Leader also wears his full uniform (pants), which is rarely worn in the house during the summer defense season.

In preparation for the recon patrols, the Leader attaches a leash to my uniform. This vexes me. I can only assume he knows what he is doing, though doesn’t explain it to me at all. Every time we ready ourselves for an outing he says the words, “New Jersey, Leash Laws,” and “Soon.” I fear we are being reassigned and these recon patrols are training for our new post. Though, I have no idea why I would need new training. I’m the point of the spear, the tip of the talon. I can only be sharpened to so fine a point.

Perhaps it is to work on our timing of attack. Often as we patrol, I see an opportunity to destroy nearby enemy troops. At first I would bolt after them in an attempt to crush their fuzzy bones between my jaws. But the Leader inexplicably held on to the chain attached to my uniform, granted often I have wrapped the lead around his feet while 360 degree patrolling. He needs to work on his positioning, but that’s another subject. The tactic of holding on to the leash slowed me enough to allow the enemy seconds to retreat up a tree. I kept up the good fight often dragging the Leader across the lawn while he barked battle cries. His feet sometimes left the ground completely in his exuberance.

I must consider the idea that he is following so closely to me to train himself on attack methods. Yes, that would explain quite a lot. If we are to be reassigned in the war to a new post, perhaps the vile nut-eating demons will have such a strong-hold that the Leader will need to be another foot-soldier in the good fight. I shall have to train him harder, never letting up.

Hopefully he doesn’t crack under the strain. I have already seen disturbing signs. Several times he has picked up the powerful message mounds I left in the front lines with a baggie. It often takes me several minutes to decide on the perfect spot to deposit them. As my instinctual manual instructs, the mounds should always be left in high-traffic areas. Upon deposition, the wind can waft the message of freedom to enemies and loyal patriots alike. Then the Leader inexplicably picks up the message mound with a bag, and carries it to the dumpster. I fear for his sanity, but will remain loyal and patient with his training.

Until next time, comrades, remain vigilant! 

Also, the Leader wanted me to mention his latest report in Reptiles Magazine: 
High Herping Adventures in Costa Rica 

Hey Everybody-

I've got some news. First of all I will be doing a radio interview on BlazeRadio tomorrow from 12-1 pm. The radio station is out of Birmingham, AL, but can be listened to on the interwebs. I will be talking (for a freaking hour) about writing and my book, Stupid Alabama. The show is called a Life Worth Telling. I'll do my best not to swear or poot on the radio.

More news- I am moving to West Orange, New Jersey as soon as I find a place to live. I got lucky and was offered a fantastic job with the Turtle Back Zoo. I get to be in charge of the reptiles and amphibians there. It seems like a fantastic place and much of my family is very close by (but not too close).

Thirdly- Reptiles Magazine Online wants me to write three articles a month for them. I linked the first one. I will add more as they get published. If you have any ideas for articles you want me to write (reptile or amphibian husbandry, natural history, or field experiences) leave a comment below. I will need all the ideas I can get.

Lastly- Nobody won "Guess that roadkill" from my last post. Have a look, answer again. You have one week. After one week the answers will be given and the person closest to the correct answers will win the super awesome prizes promised in the rules of the last post.

So, tune in tomorrow, visit me in Jersey and bring Memphis BBQ, and read my articles in Reptiles Magazine. Side note- there will soon be another episode of General Grettabot and her plight against the squirrel armada.

-Mike