My ferals have [ultimately] become some of my most loving cats. They learn the meaning of gratitude. My way of dealing with a completely feral cat [once it is trapped and transported to a suitable confined location] is just to sit in the room with it and keep up a quiet conversation ... and allow it to come to me on its own terms. It takes a little time ... usually about six months before they will trust me completely. [I usually confine a feral to an area where I can use my computer so my time is not a total loss.]
Our rescue cat Beauregard was much the same way. We got him from a breeder who had some personal problems and let her cats get out of control, she had 23 cats in the house and he was the smallest and youngest. He was terrified, bottom of the pecking order, very scrawny at 11 months, no tail (lost it in an accident), and his fur was horribly matted and uncared for. He'd never even been given a name.
It took time and patience, but now a year and a half later he is an amazingly sweet cat. He loves to jump up in my lap while I'm on the computer. He loves to get petted and combed, and he has the most sinfully thick and luxurious fur, even for a Maine Coon. He's still stick-skinny; we've tried to get him to gain weight but he just doesn't eat a whole lot. The vet says he's healthy, he's just adapted to a situation where he was low cat on the totem pole and he only got the crumbs from the other cats.
And he is QUITE capable, despite massing only about 11-12 pounds, of kicking Livingston's ass on a regular basis. What he lacks in strength he makes up for in speed. :) This is my favorite picture of Bo, giving what I call the Condi Rice Death Stare:
And bonus picture of Livingston the day we got him at four months old, before he got fat and lazy:
}:-)4