Terrific Kelpies, by Kate Gardiner
At any given time on our farm south of Cobar, my family worked with a team of about four Kelpies. Those dogs were kept in peak fitness mustering goats, sheep, and occasionally cattle. Their short-hair coats were sleek, and they ran for miles in all conditions. Their courage, tenacity and exuberance were admired and loved in equal measure, and at various times the oldest of the team was retired from daily stockwork to the house veranda – Tinka was first, then Sam, and later Lizzie.
Tinka and Sam
When Tinka came to live with us she was already quite old, but one of her offspring, Sam, was much younger. Both dogs were given to us by a neighbour, Greg Prince, who went on to become the preeminent trainer and competitor in yard dog trials in Australia and New Zealand. Tinka and Sam were impressive in appearance and ability – each with a black and tan coat, and quite stocky compared to the other dogs we would have over the years. Sam had a kink in his tail – we never knew what the cause of that feature was.
Sam worked hard in the paddocks and excelled at yard work. He worked so doggedly (pun intended!) that he would tear his paws relentlessly skidding while making tight turns in the cramped spaces among the mobs of swirling sheep. Sam was among the fortunate Kelpies that had a long working life because, unlike so many others, he avoided the poisonous bite of snakes. In his old age, Sam had the luxury of relocating from the chain at the kennels and spent his last quiet years in the sunny patches of the homestead veranda. He was fairly food-focussed such that in his retirement, Sam would depart the homestead to arrive at the shearing shed precisely at morning ‘smoko’ (the short break when the shearers would eat a snack and many would smoke a cigarette) to gobble up the sandwich crusts tossed beyond the board. Such a smart dog was Sam.
Legendary Lizzie
Given to us by generous friends, the Pascoe family from Cranbrook Station at Dubbo, Lizzie was a legend among the many brilliant dogs that worked on our farm. We preferred short-haired Kelpies due to the burrs, but with Lizzie’s long red coat my dad would sometimes need to pick out the prickles. Lizzie’s contribution was invaluable in both her ability with stockwork, the litters of puppies she bore, and her gentle presence on the homestead veranda in her retirement after the demands of stockwork.
One of Lizzie’s legendary moments was when a mob of sheep refused multiple times to go through a gateway. The manoeuvre was carried out a few times, and without drawing a diagram describing the fence line, the gateway, and the locations of motorbike and dog, you’ll just have to believe me when I say that the stubborn sheep just wouldn’t go where they were meant to go! Lizzie was similar to most of the dogs over the years in that she rarely barked while in the paddocks or in the sheep yards. But on this occasion, when the sheep again sped past the open gateway, to my dad’s surprise Lizzie voiced her apparent consternation with the mustering situation by barking loudly. So then, positions of dog and motorbike were switched, and the mob was rounded up again, and on the next attempt lo-and-behold through the sheep went with no further trouble. From that remarkable moment it was clear that Lizzie was always one step ahead of us and the sheep!
Lizzie was adored by all who met her, and my family remained indebted to the Pascoe family for their generosity in gifting us such a fine working Kelpie. Jim Pascoe was a bush poet in his own right, and published a chapbook of verse in the 1990s, and with permission from his wife Fay, it gives me great pleasure to share one of his poems about his dogs here.
Brilliant Billie
Billie was a pup from Lizzie’s last litter. She had a similar red-coloured coat to her mother’s, and she possessed many of Lizzie’s talents. It’s fair to say my dad developed a particularly soft spot for Bill’ because she was simply too good to ride on the back of the ‘ute like all the other dogs, but rather he trained her to ride with him in the cabin of the vehicle. The one-word command of ‘car’ would see her leap inside the cabin and wait for the trip to start. Such chauffeured luxury for a dusty working dog!
Billie would go to great lengths to follow this single word instruction. One day dad took a friend visiting from the city to the top of the sandstone ridge at the back of the property. After the 20 minute walk up the slope, they stood admiring the view across a mosaic of green-brown trees and shrubs, dotted between with the red-orange patches of ground, and the ‘ute a white dot almost half a kilometre away.
Then dad had an idea - ‘Do you want to see something funny?’ he asked our visitor. Dad said the command. Billie looked up at him quizzically , then away she went weaving her way between the large sandstone rocks, around the White Pine trees, then further down over the small stones at the bottom of the slope before continuing as a brown speck patiently padding her way to the ‘ute. To our visitor’s amazement (and a little to dad’s), Billie was waiting patiently on the back of the ‘ute when the two men arrived a little later.
Beautiful Bess
Let me tell you about this Kelpie named Bess who lives with my husband Wade and I here in Halifax. She’s certainly no working dog, but rather a city girl through-and-through. When a concrete path is available, she’ll take that option. Bess prefers not to walk on the grass when it’s wet and she’s reluctant, to say the least, about going outside when it’s raining. Although she enjoys cooler weather, snow and ice seem quite mysterious to Bess!
Although she was bred by Adrian Allbut of Drovers Dream Kelpies near Bathurst in New South Wales, from about eight months of age it became obvious that Bess was anything but a drover’s dream, and so she came to live a life in the city where daily people admire her shiny coat and good looks. Although her markings are recognisably Kelpie, her stamina certainly doesn’t measure up to the expectations of the breed. Bess is keen on chasing a tennis ball at the park, however, after about 10 minutes she has been known to depart, ball in mouth, heading for home. We suspect she lay down on the job when she was on the farm in Australia, and that she was more likely to be found under a shady tree than in the dusty sheep yards.
And so, when Bess came to live a city life, I found myself admiring her large, velvet-soft ears while I refined my range of earrings crafted in tribute to the rangelands where generations of hardworking Kelpies graced my earlier years in western New South Wales. Such is her glamour that yes, I took her to be professionally photographed. It seemed a combination made in marketing heaven to distil a silhouette of Bess and her distinctive ears into a logo representing my project that celebrates looking closely at the landscape, and listening to the innovators who work with the truly marvellous environment of the rangelands. Graphic Designer and friend Birgul Onal worked with me to create the logo, and of course we had to format one in ‘Kelpie tan’! In 2023, I consulted the tool makers at Koodak in Melbourne, Australia, and now a glamorous, tiny Bess is stamped on the reverse side of each of my hand-crafted pieces.
Image details:
Kelpie, c.2000 Courtesy: Gardiner Family
Lizzie, c.2000 Courtesy: Gardiner Family
Billie, c.2005 Courtesy: Ursula Bates
Bess, 2021 © Hilary Wardhaugh Photography
Rangelands Revealed logo, 2021 © Birgul Onal