Sadly, as an adult, I no longer participate in the loincloth hobby. This is mostly because I only ever wanted to dress that way privately in nature. It has been a few decades since I lived near a forest that was both secluded and familiar to me. When I think of my youth, the nudity of the Indian loincloth was not a "hobby". It was more of a game that expressed an instinct to be reconnected with nature. By reading stories on your blog, I have started to suspect that this instinct might naturally occur in the brains of many boys and that I was not the only one. In the first years of my adolescence, I was indeed lucky to have a forest practically in my backyard where I had recurring private loinclothed adventures. I would like to share those stories with you in the future, but first I want to share memories of my first time experimenting with a sort of precursor to the loincloth. This occurred one year earlier. This experience was significant for me and I remember all of it in great detail. Even though the loincloth does not appear in this chapter, I think many of the story elements are the same as what I read here in your blog. But I could be wrong and I will not be offended if you find this too uninteresting or incompatible to publish on your blog.

As a boy, I lived in a village of under 5000 inhabitants in a part of the United States that was to the North near the Canadian border. As is common in this part of America, our town was surrounded by lakes and forests. Our small town had no public swimming pools and our swim lessons were taught at the shore of a large lake near the town. In the month of June, this lake was very cold and I was a healthy but slender child with little buoyancy. I was not a good swimmer and I looked forward to the end of swimming lessons each day. I was shy and I preferred not to undress and change into my clothes at the public shower at the lake shore so I remained in my wet swimsuit for the car ride home. Each day I got out of the car and sat on the step of my house still wearing only my wet swimsuit. I enjoyed letting the noon sun shine down to warm my skin and make me dry. The steps I sat on were also hot from the sun and warmed that lower part of my body. After sitting for 20 minutes or so, I would go inside and change out of my swimsuit into T-shirt and Shorts, eat lunch, and go about the rest of my day riding my bicycle and meeting up with friends for adventures.

Each day was the same until I sat there in the sun and had a powerful idea. I wanted to be completely naked under the sun and feel how it warmed all of my body. But you must understand, in this part of America there was never FKK beaches or naturism of any kind. Nudity in public was always to be avoided. My own shyness would not allow me to be seen, and there was no place outside my house where my parents or my neighbors could not see me. I needed to go to a secluded place. My town had forests all around it, and one part of the forest was very close to my house. I had played in those woods many times with my friends where we built tree houses and forts connected by a network of trails. I knew of a clearing in that forest that might provide the sunny seclusion I needed. My idea was so compelling, that I stood up and walked barefoot directly to the head of a trail that would take me into the forest. I was surprised how dark it was under the tree canopy in contrast to the bright noon sun I had sat under only moments before. My wet swimsuit now felt even colder and my bare shoulders shivered. My bare feet felt the dampness of the cold dirt beneath them. This was not where I needed to be. I knew that one of our paths connected to a clearing with tall grass and shrubs. I ran there and found the sunshine again. I remember the fear and excitement of acting on my plan. I was too young to know sexuality but I knew that nudity was something to be guarded. This would be my first time being naked outside. I stood still listening for any sound of others in the forest and I heard nothing. I then grabbed the waistband of my swimsuit and pushed it off of my hips so that it dropped down to my feet. With one step and a kick, my swimsuit flew through the air and landed behind the tall grass and shrubs. Now I was naked free. The feeling was far more intense than I imagined it would be. I stretched out my arms, closed my eyes, leaned back my head, and let my arms, abdomen, legs, and feet soak in the warmth of the sun. And now I felt the sun on my whole body for the first time.

I could enjoy this feeling of warmth and peace for only a brief moment when my mind filled with new ideas. Other Children played in the forest often. If others were to follow that trail, they would quickly find me. This possibility both frightened me and excited me at the same time. I looked for my swimsuit I had kicked into the tall grass and could not quickly find it. My first thought was to leave it behind and to continue my adventure deeper into the woods away from the trails. The danger that someone else might find and take it while I was gone thrilled me. With no hesitation and no planning, I left my only clothing behind and walked deeper among the trees. Before now, it had been easy to run barefoot on the smooth forest trails. But away from the trail, the forest floor was all sticks, dry leaves from the past autumn, and small trees under the shade of the larger trees. My young bare feet were tender and not made for walking on this. I was pleased at how quickly I adapted. With each step, I brought my knee up high to avoid scraping my ankles on the sticks and small plants. With each step, I put my foot down with control. I used only the forward parts of my feet where the skin is thicker and padded. This kept the delicate arch of the foot from landing on a sharp stick or rock. These cautious steps came quicker and quicker without injury. I was surprised at how fast I could move like this through the woods. The forest did not seem so dark and cold now. I started to think of myself as some agile child who belonged to the forest.

I looked back past the trees and could no longer see any glimpse of the sunny clearing where I abandoned my one piece of clothing from the civilized world. I kept moving in this way further into the unexplored part of the forest. Had I been walking 10 minutes or 30? I had no timepiece on my wrist. The changing slope and obstacles of rocks and large trees made it difficult to keep moving in a steady direction. As more time passed, I was excited by the risk of becoming lost. I now know that this forest was at most 1 or 2 miles in any direction to roads and houses. But at that time, it seemed to be the limitless primeval forest. This excitement drove me yet further. With a slight turn, I saw bright sunlight reaching the forest floor ahead and I moved toward it. I came to find a place where a very large tree had fallen and crushed the smaller trees around it so that there was a wide opening of sky. Now I was satisfied with my seclusion. I comfortably sat on a patch of moss on that fallen tree. I felt the warm sun on my naked skin once again. I started to imagine other people seeing me like this. I started to imagine that the forest itself could see me. Then a strange new thought entered my head that others on this website have written about. The idea was that complete nudity in this natural world was somehow less intimate, less wild, and less profound than if I had some small garment of nature covering the most private part of my body.

Now I know that the perfect garment for this situation was what you call the prairie-style loincloth. As I said, I would eventually discover this a year later. But even if I had known of loincloths at that time, I had no rope to tie around my waist. I had no narrow piece of cloth. I had no possessions with me at all. My idea at that time was to use the materials of the forest for my clothing. Instinctively, this just seemed right to me.

On children's television shows (Like Gilligan's Island), I had seen the grass skirts worn by natives of islands in the Pacific Ocean. I had the idea now to make something similar. I could make a belt from vines and hang grass from this belt. I think the grass skirts from television never excited me because there was too much grass. Their grass was heaped around the hips and it did not take the shape of a slender body beneath it. For my version, I would hang grass only in the front. My sides would remain naked. I began to search for my materials in the area around the fallen tree. I easily found small vines growing on nearby tree trunks. They were flexible and strong. I wrapped a vine three times around my slender waist and braided it around itself to make a sturdy belt. I found no tall grass growing in this area, but I found some healthy ferns. If the fern plant is unfamiliar to you, it has rigid stalks 2 to 3 feet long with many closely spaced leaves growing horizontally out from the stalk. Three overlapping fern stalks hanging from the center of my belt were enough to cover my gender. I pinched the stalks between the windings of the vine belt to get them to remain securely in place. I tried taking some quick steps in the area of the fallen tree. My movement through the air did not greatly disturb the fern leaves. Instead, the gentle breeze of my forward movement kept the leaves between my legs and I remained covered as I moved. For some reason, I decided to hang three more overlapping fern stalks in the back. It just seemed correct that I should cover this part of my body as well.

Now I looked at myself again and was very pleased with my outward transformation. It is hard to explain but there was also an internal transformation. My excitement was still present. I was still almost completely naked and I would be in the most embarrassing moment of my life if somebody found me like this. But now there was courage in this. Somehow, I felt more like a predator than prey. I crouched and stalked around the area of that fallen tree to test the durability of my fragile garment. I tried climbing a tree and, in the process, most of the leaves of those ferns ripped apart and fell away. No problem, I easily replaced them with fresh new fern stalks. Clearly, this garment was more decoration than it was practical. I could never wear it outside of the forest. If somebody looked closely, and if my movement was not gentle, they would see the skin of my boyhood peeking out between the fern leaves. But I still loved it. I believed it gave me dignity in the eyes of the forest.

Probably one hour passed since I dropped my swimsuit in the tall grass of that far away clearing. It was time for me to return. I no longer knew the exact direction to the clearing, but if I walked in that general direction, I would likely cross one of the trails of the forest and could find my way from there. I travelled in a straight direction for what seemed like 30 minutes and I did not come to my clearing or any trails. I was looking ahead and had almost forgotten my forest clothing. I looked down to find 2 of the back fern stalks had fallen away but the front ferns were still in place. The ferns and the boyhood they covered all bounced together in rhythm with my cautious steps. I started to imagine what I would look like to the boys and girls of my school if they caught me this way. I imagined what their reaction would be. Would they chase me? What would they do if they caught me? This excited me greatly. I kept my eyes ahead in order to navigate the obstacles. I did not need to look down at myself to know the extent of my excitement. I could feel the increasing weight and rigidity of that part of my body and I knew that it now defiantly protruded out through my fern leaves.

Finally, my path crossed one of the many trails in the forest and my visibility increased in both directions. I saw a glimpse of the color blue and the color yellow through a gap of trees in the distance. Then I saw that those bright colors came from the shirts worn by two boys walking on the trail. My heart jumped and I sprinted down the trail away from them. Did they notice? Did they chase me? My bare feet were not bothered by the smooth dirt of the trail. My long legs sprinted with adrenaline. The wind and motion snatched most of the fern leaves. I was transformed back into a naked forest prey animal again.

That was the climax of this most exciting day of my short life so far. I came to a part of the trail that was familiar to me. I panicked when I realized that my swimsuit was back in the direction of the boys. When I stopped to listen, I heard no sound of shoes running to catch me. I walked silently and alertly back toward the clearing with some plan to sneak around the boys through the woods. But the boys were gone. They were probably already walking away from me when I saw them. They probably never saw me or heard me. Or maybe they silently hid behind trees and watched in amazement as I walked past them! If so, I was never confronted with this. I arrived at the clearing and found my swimsuit. I removed my vine belt and put on my civilized piece of clothing that allowed me to walk out of the forest, back to my normal life. I believe I was now addicted to my new profound feeling of being connected to nature and also addicted to the danger of being discovered and hunted like naked prey.

I returned to the woods many more times that summer to wear my special forest clothing and to go on my private adventures. On a few different occasions, I shared a limited version of these adventures with my younger brother and three friends. But each time I made them think it was our spontaneous idea to wear only clothing of the forest. They never knew that this was a recurring ritual for me. One of my friends was the girl who was taller than all of the boys and who I imagined would play the perfect Amazon warrior in our games. But regretfully, she was the shyest of all and declined to join us. The next Spring my family moved away from this small town and this chapter of my life ended. My forest games took on new forms in my new city and there are more stories to tell from those years of my youth. It is such a different world now. My own children are now a little older than my age in this story. We do not have a suitable forest nearby for such adventures. Even if we did, I suspect the instinct for such adventures is too clouded by modern life and attitudes of society for them to understand. Maybe some opportunity will rise in the future.

To begin, I realize I was a somewhat complicated child. I was a moderately popular kid and capable of being very social, but I had my introverted side, and I very much enjoyed extended time alone. As I said in my previous chapter, the nudity of the Indian loincloth became sort of a private game I invented that expressed an instinct to be intimately connected with nature. Incidentally, I depend on google translate to read the Czech content of this website and it sometimes has hilarious interpretations. I actually enjoy figuring out what was intended. I assume Czech visitors will read my English words with similar effect. From this blog, I was surprised to learn of the existence of Native American themed summer camps where loincloths were worn enthusiastically by the campers. I went to a fantastic summer camp that offered real wilderness adventures but nothing like what was described in Czech Indian Themed Camps. I believe my own instincts were cut from the same cloth as the instincts behind your camp traditions. The difference is that your young campers were guided by older campers and long-standing traditions, and my instincts took their shape in complete isolation. It is hopefully understandable that my result was a bit eccentric.

The Summer after the events in my previous story, my family moved away from that small town to a large city that was many hundred miles to the south. We moved into a nice neighborhood of single-family homes that was under 10 miles from the urban center. We were very fortunate to live next to a large park that had an outdoor amphitheater, landscaped gardens, sports fields, and other typical park amenities. More importantly, the park had a preserve of dense forest that measured at least a half square mile. This was not the endless forest of my former town, but I was still very excited to have it. I did not dare to explore this unfamiliar forest as the young scout that was barefoot and naked except for his small garment of leaves. No, my first exploration was as a conventional boy wearing conventional shorts, T Shirt, and sneakers. I was surprised at how few people visited the open spaces of this park. It seemed that those visitors completely ignored the densely wooded area of the park. It was their loss. I walked down one main well-worn trail through the center of this forest and did not encounter a single person. I found abandoned charcoal grills away from the main trail and concluded that there were once clearings in this woods that served as picnic areas. But those clearings had been neglected and had become overgrown. Many areas of the forest were thick with underbrush so that you could crouch a few feet away from somebody and not be seen at all. I began to have confidence that I could once again shed my civilized clothes and go on my private adventures.

While unpacking boxes, I rediscovered my old Cub Scout manual. Cub Scouts was the junior division of the Boy Scouts of America. I describe Cub Scouts as an after-school club for younger boys where we learned about nature, camping, some very minor survival skills, and crafts. My group never did any actual camping and it was really more like a form of babysitting. I never read much of this manual before, but as I opened random pages, something caught my eye. It was a chapter about American Indian Lore and it was filled with activities that my own group never attempted. One activity was called “Indian Camping” which involved a primitive form of camping out in the wilderness as American Indians of the Plains would have lived. It said “Loincloths and moccasins are your day-long wear” There were illustrations of boys in loincloths doing war dances around a teepee. There were diagrams on how to make items of Indian equipment such as tomahawks and feather headdresses. And yes, there were instructions on how to make a loincloth.

I had seen loincloths before in books and movies. I had mistakenly thought the front and back flaps were separate pieces of cloth hanging from a string around the waist. I had thought this was a stupid and ineffective form of clothing. But after seeing the illustrated instructions in the Cub Scout manual, I understood that the 2 flaps were actually the ends of the same piece of cloth threaded between the legs and over the waist strap. It was intelligent, natural, and so profoundly simple.

I resolved to return to my newly discovered forest and dress myself only in a loincloth. My young mind was filled with new ideas and I started to think of some basic rules for my private forest game:

First rule: I was the pure child of the forest. This meant I must hide my modern belongings near the edge of the woods and enter with absolutely nothing. I must bring no supplies, no wrist watch, no pocket knife, no clothing, no jewelry, not even shoes. I would be barefoot and completely naked, except…

Second rule: A loincloth must be worn as an ornament of my spiritual connection with nature. Much has been written on this website about the loincloth as a bold improvement on total nudity and I think I had this same basic understanding. The purpose of the loincloth in my games was almost ceremonial. To be aligned with nature, my forest clothes had to be minimalist and elegantly simple.

Third rule: My role in the forest was as the dutiful scout. This meant I was required to explore every rock and tree of the forest right up to its boundaries. If I encountered other people, I was required to observe them without being detected. By my boyish reasoning, I served the forest as her eyes, ears, and other senses.

For my first loincloth, I found a piece of thin cotton rope to tie around my waist. I took an old white cotton bedsheet that I knew would not be missed. I ripped off a narrow piece of it. My Cub Scout manual said the cloth should be as long as your height and as wide as 1/3 the distance around your waist. I had no tape measure and I did a poor job of estimating. My piece of cloth was probably much narrower than what was recommended. I did not waste time trying it on in my bedroom. I put the two components of my loincloth in the pockets of my shorts and I ran out of my house to the park. I did not wear underwear or socks in order to minimize the clothing I would need to strip off. The trees and shrubs at the edge of the forest had foliage all the way down to the ground. This contrasted sharply with the sunshine and mowed grass just outside of it. Entering the forest on its main trail was like walking through the gate of a medieval city wall. After entering, I turned away from the trail and stumbled through a section of underbrush and found an area that had some privacy.

I stripped off my clothes and shoes and placed them beneath a very large tree that I would remember. I tied the rope to my waist, and threaded the cloth in the prairie style. Then I immediately started my barefoot exploration. I felt alive and full of energy now that I was intimately reconnected to nature.

I instantly fell in love with my new forest clothing. The flaps fluttered to the length of my knees. The cloth underneath was just wide enough to hide what needed to be hidden from the side angle view. I was pleased at how gently my loincloth held its contents which had slightly perked up due to the exhilaration I felt in this moment. As others have described on this website, the loincloth felt like it became a part of my body. Even though it was not made from materials of the forest, it was no less aligned with nature than my garment made of fern leaves that I spoke of in the past chapter.

As before, I walked cautiously with controlled steps to avoid hurting my vulnerable bare feet. The underbrush was much thicker in portions of this small forest than it was in the forest near my old home. It helped to conceal me, but it also scratched mercilessly at my skin. I mostly had to walk in parts of the forest where the underbrush was less. I picked up a large stick to carry like a truncheon. I used this truncheon to occasionally beat a path through plants and underbrush that impeded me. Of course, I realized that this action greatly reduced my stealth, but there was often no alternative.

For my first scouting mission, I did not venture far. After 15 minutes I came back to the tree where I shed my clothes. This was just a test round of my private forest game and I found was only one issue with me new loincloth. With the motion of my walking, the cloth underneath would loosen and become even narrower. A few of the hairs that had only recently grown on that part of my body revealed themselves. Really everything was revealed in the side view. But I only had to pull gently on the edges of the flaps to bring it back into place. By tightening the rope around my waist, the added pressure between the rope and my skin prevented the cloth from loosening so much.

I returned days later for a longer and more daring exploration. I discovered a grassy clearing where full sunlight came through the tree canopy and reached the forest floor. I stood there with my arms stretched and my head tilted back to soak in the sun’s warmth. I decided to make #4 that I must greet the sun in this same clearing each time I visited the forest. On later visits I made even more silly rules. It was all part of the fun and it made my game more challenging. Inside the forest, I rarely encountered other people except on that main trail. Even then, I was always able to see them coming and to stay hidden from them as they passed.

Eventually I started making friends in my new city. They knew of the forest in the park but had little interest in it. I kept my adventures secret from them. I even kept the secret from my siblings. Soon I became busy with sports and school and my explorations were over for the season. My new city was in the middle latitudes of North America so that the trees still dropped their leaves and the winter days were still short and cold. I had thought about my private game all winter. After the leaves had mostly returned in the Spring, I was ready to return.

I had made a new loincloth that I ripped from that same bedsheet I had kept hidden. My overall design was the same as the prior season but I had to change the dimensions. I had started my growth spurt that winter. My legs had grown significantly in length but my boyish waist and shoulders remained about the same size. I had matured somewhat in one particular area which required a slightly wider loincloth.

I mentioned earlier that I attended summer camps. And so far, I never brought my private games to camp. Perhaps there is related story to tell in the future. My time away at camp is only relevant now because it severely limited the number of days available for me to visit my forest and play as the barefooted loinclothed scout. I likely went on less than 7 adventures in this new season, but there were a few moments of excitement that are perhaps worth writing down.

My more daring missions brought me to the edges of the forest where I could see people in the open spaces of the park. Because they were always in bright sunlight and I was behind the leaves in the dark shade, I was confident they could never see me. I eventually became too confident and careless. On one adventure I was thrashing through the underbrush too close to the edge. I was surprised to suddenly find 2 boys and 2 girls who were perhaps 4 or 5 years older than me. They were sitting quietly on a blanket very close to the edge of the forest smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. I stopped and crouched down but they had already heard me. One boy stood and looked into the shadows of the forest. He could not yet see me but he yelled “Who the fuck is that?. Are you spying on us, dude?” With a threatening posture, he walked into the forest close to me. His progress was initially slowed by the underbrush. I jumped up and ran deeper into the forest. He saw this sudden movement and immediately called out to his friends “Get him!” and they started chasing. The underbrush scratched and scraped my skin and the rough ground hurt my bare feet. But the adrenaline moved me. I passed the thick underbrush and was in a part of the forest where the trees were spaced further apart. I could run faster here, but the two older boys were still running after me and they had the advantage of shoes. Now they saw that I was a naked boy wearing only a loincloth and they briefly hesitated. They laughed in a manner that was good natured but they continued to chase me. I suspect that they now thought of the chase as more of a game than an act of hostility. I ran down a slope toward the small stream that intersected this part of the forest. The water was knee-deep and I ran straight through it. I did not realize there were large slime-covered rocks beneath the water. I slipped on one and went down on one knee. But I recovered and continued running while the soaked flaps of my loincloth stuck to my theighs. Apparently, the older boys did not want to soak their shoes and socks. I looked back to see them standing at the edge of the stream with a look of cheerful confusion. I smiled and kept running. They were content to return to their girls and their beers and to tell about their very strange encounter. They made no attempt to chase me further.

I had escaped with just a few scratches and bruises. As my breathing and my pounding heart started to slow down, I felt profoundly alive. I laughed at my carelessness and my lucky escape. I celebrated my speed, agility, and knowledge of the forest.

On another scouting mission a week later, I sat with one knee raised near the edge of the forest that was next to a soccer field. A game of girls’ soccer was in progress. The girls were my age or a year older and I watched to see if I knew any of them. The parents and other spectators were across the field facing the forest. From that far away, there was no risk they could see me behind the foliage. The coaches and the substitute players were much closer to my position but they were focused on the game and facing away from me.

In my mind, the main theme of my game was to be deeply connected to nature. But I had to admit that my game was most thrilling when there was danger that I could be discovered and hunted like naked prey in nature. I also had to admit that this danger sometimes excited me in the intimate manner that often embarrasses boys my age. It didn’t matter that the soccer players were girls. I would admire the athleticism and stamina shown in their sweat-soaked hair no matter the gender. I began to imagine them discovering and chasing me. My loincloth hopelessly loosened as its contents grew rapidly and pushed against the fabric so that all was exposed. This was the main disadvantage of my chosen style of loincloth. I had rejected the idea of complicated stitching or eyelets to keep it in place. Rule #2 of my game was that my forest clothes had to be elegantly simple and minimalist. Also, I did not want it to be too tight-fitting and constricting. I preferred my loincloth to conceal its delicate contents with a gentle touch.

I was distracted while adjusting my forest garment back into position. Then I heard footsteps entering the forest just 20 feet to my left. A boy that was possibly my age or a year younger searched for a suitable tree to urinate on. Two more boys followed behind him but they had not seen me. They were likely brothers or friends of some of the soccer players. All three unzipped and began urinating on the same tree. When they finished, their eyes likely had to pass right over me as they turned around to walk back to the soccer field. I guess their eyes still had not adjusted to the shade and there were enough leafy plants around my position so that they did not notice me. I was not afraid of those boys directly. I even wondered if I should invite them to join me in my adventure. But their surprised reaction would have called attention to the strangely clothed boy in the forest. So, I stayed completely motionless and they passed by. I had likely avoided extreme embarrassment and an unrecoverable reputation. I decided it was best to immediately withdraw from this particular mission.

My favorite memory of my forest game happened one year later after returning from another year of camp. The clouds of an impending storm made the sky unusually dark in the middle of the day. With no hesitation, I decided this would be the perfect time to visit my forest and resume my private game. On my way to the park, I saw only a few people and they were all leaving in anticipation of the weather. I entered the forest, stripped to my loincloth, and walked barefoot to the grassy clearing to greet the mid-day sun. Only now the sky was dark and I greeted the first raindrops of a summer storm. I don’t recall any lightning. There was only distant thunder. I remember heavy wind bending the treetops, but not too violently. The dark turbulent sky was actually beautiful. It was a pleasant exhilarating feeling that I can’t quite describe. I was intimately connected with nature now and she was showing her power to me with restraint. Instead of fear, I felt safe in my forest.

Waves of heavy rain came down on me in that clearing. My hair and loincloth were now completely soaked, but the temperature of the rainwater was comfortable. I began to leap around and shout with my fists raised in celebration. Nobody would be near the forest now. There was no need for stealth. My fellow citizens abdicated this forest to me and I was its sole possessor. I walked confidently among my trees to the main trail that cut through the forest. I ran full speed on that trail without a care. The experience was so different compared to the other times I walked so slowly with maximum alertness. When I reached the edge of the forest, I surprised myself that I continued running out into the open spaces of the park. With my arms stretched out wide, I ran across the sports fields and ran through the landscaped gardens. There was not a single person in the park. The fields and gardens were now also mine alone.

I looked down at myself. The loincloth I had made from a cotton bedsheet was no longer pure and white. Its flaps were now splattered with mud and it was translucent with the tan and pink colors of my skin underneath. I liked this wild appearance. I laid down on the mowed grass with my arms and legs spread out. I looked up to admire the turbulent sky while the rain continued to fall on me and wash the mud from my legs and feet.

The rain began to clear up. I debated in my mind if I should walk out of the abandoned park and down the street to my nearby home while wearing only my loincloth. But in this moment, I did not crave the thrill of being hunted like naked prey. I felt profoundly alive without the contrived excitement of my stealthy game. In some strange way, I felt like I won my game. I calmly walked back to my soaking wet clothes and shoes and I put them on. Then I walked back home and rejoined civilization.

My family moved again a year later and this time there was no forest in my backyard. As I grew into young adulthood with all of its distractions, I gradually lost the motivation to play my private game. After all, it was mostly child’s play and perhaps only the reflections of it in my memory are appropriate in my adult life. I should add that I visited this park many years later and found that the underbrush had been thinned out and it was filled with people strolling on new trails. I was happy that this forest in the park was now serving its intended purpose, but sad that my private wilderness was gone.

I had some closing thoughts on child’s play as an expression of instinct and the evolutionary roots of instinct in our primal past. I also had thoughts on the recent past and the near-term future of our American and Czech societies. But I will let my (already too long) story stand on its own and spare you from my amateur analysis.

Thank you for giving me a reason to organize and write down these memories and a forum for sharing.

WH Scout

Edit Archer: writer of the story is looking forward your commnets as well as me, feel free to use guestbook if you want to. If you have such memories too, do not hesitate to share them with us, there is plenty of space for that. As you can see, you are not / were not alone... loinclothed. :)

The white calf
the story of Eagle Child, the Piegan boy, who found a white buffalo calf said to have been sent by the Above Ones