Feral children, what’s that?
Oxford defines feral as: [especially in animals] in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication; or, resembling a wild animal. You ever hear a parent describe their kids as feral? I love it, I think it’s hilarious but also like, a badge of honor in some instances. Now, let me be completely honest. My kids are actually very well behaved, I mean, what feral animal performs family chores and uses phrases like “yes, sir/mam”? They don’t do much talking back and if I ask them to come down from a tree or put down an animal, they listen pretty promptly. So, I won’t pretend they are the conventional type of ‘feral children’, just all my own. Children were made to be wild. They were made to climb trees, or everything as my kids do, and jump in mud and lay in grass with lambs and dogs (often getting soiled with excrements unbecoming of human persons). They wipe snot and eat dirt and use sticks as teethers. But they also strengthen their immune systems with small(ish) exposures to bacteria and consume lots of probiotics. They use their muscles and always eat a full meal after some serious play outside. They spend hours a day in the fresh air most of the year and can be found reading a book while hanging from a harness they situated in a very high branch, or building shelters in trees and weeds to spend the night in. The lessons they learn can’t be taught and are often only caught and the memories will last their entire lives. Who doesn’t remember giving a mud pie to an unsuspecting aunt or being given a funny nickname to reflect a messy face or tattered clothing? Ferality, it’s the new put down for energetic kids, but I think it’s so much more than that. In our home, or rather front yard, it’s a lifestyle. The lifestyle. I love so much about it, and try to prepare my home for the parts I don’t. Anyone else use whelping mats for their entryway, or carry kids from the front door to the bath on a weekly basis, if not daily? If you aren’t reading books to your kids outside, surrounded by dogs or chickens, or finding jackets on wood piles and hanging from the trees, are you even living? I’m sure this life isn’t for everyone, but man is it ever a wonderful life. Go ahead, call us all feral, we will wear that badge proudly because it makes this rural life of ours beautiful and adventurous and into a constant series of opportunities to learn. We wouldn’t trade it for all the luxuries in the world. We feel so blessed to live it and I only hope everyone can have an adventure or two where they can just live feral for a bit. Barefoot in the snow, sand in the bathing suit, unkempt and leafy hair during a camping trip. Take some time to learn together and make memories and hold on to those kids.
Do you have a favorite feral memory from your childhood? Do you have feral children of your own?
