The Feral Farm Kid

According to Merriam-Webster, "feral" is defined as "not domesticated or cultivated: wild." This term perfectly encapsulates my 11-year-old son, Noah. He embodies the spirit of untamed energy and raw determination, making him an indispensable part of our farm's daily life.

Ok, all 3 of our youngest kiddos are feral. But...Noah takes the cake.

As the oldest boy in our household, Noah naturally shoulders responsibilities that go beyond his years. He has an innate ability to problem-solve, often taking it upon himself to deconstruct...and reconstruct...various structures. Including ones I'm in the process of building. 

While his unauthorized use of 2x4s, plywood sheets, screws, impact drivers, wrenches... (you get the point) can be a source of frustration, it's also a testament to his creativity, his ability to see the world differently, and his hands-on learning approach.​

Noah's tenacity is evident in his self-taught achievements. He learned to ride a bike on his own and then taught his younger siblings, a move that both robbed me of a parental milestone and filled me with pride. He also figured out how to hook up a trailer to our side-by-side vehicle, a skill that has proven invaluable during chicken processing days.​

While setting up electric nets isn't his favorite task, Noah excels in much of the heavy lifting required around the farm. His strength and determination are matched by a surprising gentleness when it comes to caring for our poultry. He has a special place in his heart for the underdogs—literally. Any meat chicken that lags in growth finds a sanctuary in the chicken tractor Noah built himself, receiving extra care until it's ready for processing., or dies naturally, comfortably.

One memorable experience was a recent trip to East Texas for chicken processing. Noah woke up at 4 a.m. to help load the chickens, and stayed by my side through a 17-hour day, which included the misadventure of getting the truck stuck in the mud. Throughout it all, he observed how I managed stress and problem-solving, lessons that are as crucial as any chore on the farm.​

We have plans to add a storm shelter/root cellar to our property, and have been mulling over a location for a couple of years now. As I stood staring out the window the other day, contemplating again on where to put said underground structure, Noah's voice interrupted my thoughts, as he asked me what I was doing. This is a kid who, despite being born in the middle of a thunderstorm, got so overcome with fear during one, that the good Lord put him to sleep, buried under a mountain of pillows and comforters, until the storm passed! When I told him what I was doing by the window, he pointed straight to where we want to extend our back patio and asked "why don't you just put it there, and face the entrance [that] way?" Well, whaddya know... I mulled it over for a bit. When Darrin came up to the house later that day for a coffee refill, I asked him about Noah's suggestion. He looked outside, looked at Noah, and told Noah we're going to ask him where to put stuff from now on!

And I can't even count the number of times I've been outside working on a project, or asking him to go get a tool for me, and he either asks why I'm not doing it [this] other way--which would have been a better way--or brings me a different--but better--tool than I asked for. Again, simultaneously frustrates me and fills my heart with joy!

Noah may be wary of our goats and intimidated by the longhorns, but when it comes to poultry, he's my go-to guy. His problem-solving skills are as unique and necessary as he is. His blend of feral energy and compassionate care makes him a unique and invaluable member of our farm. And his giant, can't-miss personality, his mischievious smile, his curiousity, and his ingrained need to protect his family are an overwhelming blessing. The farm--and this family--could not function without him. The farm, and the family, can't function without any individual in our family--and for all the reasons unique to each individual. And this farm--and even moreso our family--need his spunky, feral, tenacity, in all of it's unrefined, and someday-refined glory. I can only imagine the plans the Lord has in store for him--what kind of "ark" God will have him "build"! I'm sure it will be nothing less than God-glorifyingly-amazing!