Vintage Bon Jovi blasts from the tinny speaker of a portable radio inside Balala Station’s woolshed as shearers skim their handpieces along the bodies of compliant wethers. A young rouseabout flings a fleece over a wooden table worn smooth from years of lanolin and Balala’s owner Richard Daugherty plucks matted wool from its edges. “You don’t want contamination,” he explains. “You want the best quality because that’s going to fetch the highest price.”