As it turns out, Fox Feet work a whole lot better without shoes. In a part of the world joyously void of the hazards of poison ivy and fire ants and searing cement heat, it is delicious freedom to be able to strip off shoes and socks and run around in the woods barefoot! To be able to peel off the protective coverings in which we usually coat our feet and allow them to directly connect with the earth, sensing and touching the way hands often do, was a surprising bonus. Imagine spending life with stiff, puffy, padded mittens over your fingers and then suddenly being allowed to take them off and feel the world! (Mrs. C and I also had to curb our instinctual avoidance of "leaves of three" in order to enjoy some suspiciously three-leaved plants with edible berries--"Leaves of three, leave it be!" screamed our brains.)One of the first games we played was "Firekeeper." A "firekeeper" sits blind-folded and cross-legged in the middle of a circle, guarding the "fire" (a set of keys or something equally jingly-
jangly), while those of us on the edge of the circle take turns quietly sneaking into the center to steal "the fire" without detection. The firekeeper listens intently with perked Deer Ears for evidence of sneaking, and if she points in your direction, you must return to the edge of the circle. Off went everyone's shoes. It is impossible to sneak with big, heavy, inflexible boots that loudly crunch every leaf and stick in their path.
Having practiced our sneaking skills in an organized setting, we were ready to play "Wildlife is Watching," a game that requires "prey" to hide off-trail in the forest while "predators" slowly Fox Walk down the trail using their Owl Eyes to search for less camouflaged prey. In this game, my bright red t-shirt was a distinct disadvantage, but this pushed me to curl up on the ground under the cover of ferns and stay very still and silent . 
. . for a LONG time . . . while predators hunted. At my new close-to-the-ground eye-level, I had a chance to carefully observe tiny critters crawling about that might otherwise have gone completely unnoticed. My leg hurt where I had unwittingly pressed it against a sizable twig, but I didn't want to move for fear the sight and noise of movement would attract the attention of my predators (including Mrs. C!). Because I couldn't see the trail from my hiding spot, I had to use my Deer Ears, listening with intensity for when the predators had passed and I might safely readjust position without revealing myself. Mrs. C didn't hesitate to assure me that my red shirt had loudly announced my presence, despite my quiet crouching. Ah, well.
Of course, all this barefoot bliss means that Fox Feet are very very dirty. With the well on the property running low due to drought, drinking water was prioritized over bathing--and showering was not an option. I considered a Fox Feet photo to document the dirty, but we live in a culture that values cleanliness as a barrier to bacterial badness and as a symbol of elevation from poverty and our more primitive roots. (I think some of our parents and administrators might have been scandalized to the point of questioning my personal hygiene and perhaps my judgment in general.) More than once, I stared in amazement (and a pinch of pride) at my dirty feet, hardly recognizing them as my own. It was good to step out of my city-girl shoes for unencumbered play outside, but I must admit it was also good to give those dirty Fox Feet a serious scrub in the hotel shower at the end of this adventure.Favorite quotes from the Elders who joined us for the weekend:
"If something is worth doing, it's worth doing poorly at first."
"So little to do . . . and SO MUCH TIME!"
[NOTE: Fluffy enjoyed forest life so much, he decided to attempt an overnight "Survival Quest." He reveled in his night alone in the woods, but I worried so much I rented a car the next day to facilitate a rescue mission.]
and logged a grand total of TEN airplane flights. 
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