Pulling oneself up By The Bra Straps

The badgers have been on the field longer than we have been in he cottage, and their " runs" criss cross the acre of land from Churchyard to stream.
They are there for the duration and it is increasingly worrying that their leader now has a taste for chicken
This morning,
I had a fleeting moment of " what's the point" and contemplated giving up on everything feathered for a while before picking myself up by my bra straps, buying an " emergency " scotch egg in way of support and setting to work.
With the help of neighbour John and affable despot Jason we moved the larger coops to a square of cleared land up by the gate nearest the cottage.
Jason was showing off with his best American accent and kept us amused with his tv commentator
" when Badgers go bad" impersonation as the Ukrainian village was dismantled and relocated.
The old and frail coops have now been destroyed and each of the remaining houses, have all been strengthened and fixed with new locks fitted and mesh grills erected over doors and poop holes.
With all of the coops in one position, a piece of land perhaps fifty feet square  can be surrounded  by two strands of electric wire much more easily.