Unfortunately I don't think I truly understood what "feral" meant, until I received our new foster kitten. But don't worry, I got the meaning RIGHT away after they had to slide him out of his carrier. This is our 3rd foster kitten with Eleven-Eleven, but our first feral kitten.
As soon as he was in my apartment, he found fortress in a sweater-wrapped Letter "U," an old set piece from my Anthropologie store in Portland. He stayed there for quite a while, accepting small doses of neck massaging and photo-taking. This lasted for about an hour, until Eric came in from the other room, and the kitten darted underneath the couch. For the rest of Friday night, it was quite a tragedy.
The night unfortunately did not end so well, Eric and I moving furniture around, trying to get the kitten into a carrier, so that we could make his new temporary home in our bathroom. Around 1:30 am, we succeeded, although he bit me pretty, terribly, hard. The poor kitten was terrified, and I really felt for him. Once we established him in our bathroom, with a shoebox full of litter and a bowl of fresh water, we left a night-light on, and proceeded to leave him be. The next morning (Saturday) we had to evacuate him from his home, so that each of us could shower and get ready for the day, then we arranged him back in his home. At first he hissed and hated our presence, but soon, after the husband's efforts, he actually got the kitten to purr! Well done for a gentleman who says he hates cats. Anyways, the kitten's progress has been off and on, I've been bitten once more, but definitely not as bad as the first one. He's eaten, and even used his shoebox litter, thank goodness! Weasley does not like him one bit, but I think starting tomorrow, we'll try to see how he'll explore outside of the bathroom. I haven't picked a name for him yet, he hasn't really shown us his personality. I've started calling him "Friday" since we got him on Friday, but perhaps it'll change.