Up and at ’em. Pip spends most of her time airborne whenever Paul Malcolm has a visitor nearby. Photos: Andy Wilson
Paul Malcolm has his hands full with two new kelpies to add on to his 130-hectare farm ‘Biyala’ at Broken Creek, where he grows wheat and grazes sheep for wool and meat.
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Red and his sister Pip are just about to begin their sheepdog training, and if sheep could fly, these two would still be up to the task.
Red happily climbs hay bales, while Pip — who remains chained to her kennel for the encounter with Country News — spends most of the time airborne in glee at the sight of a guest.
“Pip is also more the hunter,” Paul said.
“She’s more interested in old sheep bones and chasing birds, while Red just wants to have a game.”
Both dogs are seven months old, and Paul said at first, he had three from the same litter, with the third one, Jess, going to his son.
Red is raring to round up and Paul Malcolm is looking forward to starting their working dog training very soon.
“It is interesting how they are all so similar when you first see them but then they’re all quite different both in colourings and certainly in temperament,” he said.
“And when Jess comes over, she is the spoilt one with my son and wants to be boss and is always competing with Red.
“There’s always that initial fracas as they establish that order, but then they play.
“We will start to train them about now, I think.
“They have already had their initial introduction to sheep but now they are ready for training.”
Banjo is the boss, qualified by age and experience, despite only having three years on a farm.
Far from the springing of Red and Pip is the bounding ‘boss’, Banjo the blue heeler, with alliteration unavoidable in any introduction.
“More bark than bard and a bit of a boofhead,” Paul enjoys the joke.
Banjo channels 'Major' from Footrot Flats, the authentic top-of-the-pack qualified by age and experience, despite only having three years on a farm.
“He has enjoyed the transition from the city and assumed the persona of security, with plenty of space and rabbits to chase.”
And to complete the troupe, Mos — the well-retired Jack Russell that every farm seems to have — wanders from inside to lie in the shade on the lawn.
He ignores the rest.
A spot of lawn in the shade is all Mos seems to need.
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