Welcome. Here's a new story based on the adventures of Andresín, brought to you by Explora Natura.

Summer vacation

As every year in July, the visitors arrived in San Marcos de la Jara. Those who, for various reasons, had had to leave the village to seek their fortune in the city, and now returned for their holidays. Most came from Madrid or Barcelona and tried to act sophisticated when they went into the shops or had a drink at the bar. That way of speaking was a source of teasing and laughter among the villagers, who tended to have their own distinctive expressions and a slight lilt in their speech that made them seem to be singing. Although it's true that the teasing was always affectionate, since in San Marcos, everyone knew each other and many were related.

One of the houses next door to Andresín's was that of Don Wenceslao, a builder who lived in Córdoba and never missed his visit to the village on the most important dates. His house contrasted sharply with the neighboring one where the young man lived. It had a beautiful entrance hall clad in red marble from the Cabra quarries, and inside, a lovely limestone fountain.
with goldfish.

This gentleman had two sons, Felipín and Currillo, who were somewhat younger than Andresín and had a well-earned reputation in the village for being mischievous. Tomasa's son loved this, and he would applaud every time he saw Don Wenceslao's car arrive with them inside.

Although Andresín had a reputation for being mischievous, his thoughts almost always revolved around food. However, the Cordobans, as he was known in the village, sometimes played cruel pranks that more than once embarrassed his mother and caused his father to warm the leather of his belt against their bottoms.

Felipín was thin, dark-skinned, and although he wasn't short, he looked so next to Currillo, who, at almost two meters tall and with his long hair, seemed to be the older of the two.

Their pranks had been talked about quite a bit on occasion, and sometimes poor Andresín, who accompanied them everywhere, had also been harmed.

On one occasion, they ended up getting a beating from the father and then from the mother when, at the swimming pool, they pulled down the mayor's son Fernandillo's swimsuit in front of the girls from the summer camp. They were also very fond of lifting girls' skirts and placing buckets of water or flour over the doors of the restrooms at the fair booth.

Andresín did not have that malice and never participated in the pranks devised by the people from Cordoba, but in the end he always found himself involved by accompanying them.

The moments of laughter they had shared were truly unique.

Besides that, Felipín and Currillo had a very pretty sister who always brought little gifts for Andresín. Chocolate coins, gummy bears, candies—that was the boy's weakness.

This time, the sister had stayed in the capital, and instead they had brought a friend of the boys. Although his name was Ricardo, the boys called him "Partner," something he hated and always protested: "My name is Ricardo!"

Although outsiders were very fond of bringing fashions, the people of Cordoba always let themselves be advised by Andresín when looking for entertainment, and that year, the lad had something really good for them.

"What's wrong, fatty?" Felipín said, hugging Tomasa's son.

Being called fat always bothered Andresín, even though he was well aware of it. But since he lived off his friends, he didn't take it as an insult.

–Well, here, as always. I work at the City Hall now, you know?

"Great! I'm happy for you," exclaimed Currillo. "And do you have any interesting business?"

"Of course! We have our own private pool this summer. Do you remember Doña Servanda? Her daughter found a job in Madrid and has gone with her until she finds a place to stay.".

–Yes, and her husband? Isn't he the one with the big mustache? The one with the mean face?
Fleas? –Felipín asked with some concern.

"The same one, but when he gets back from rounding up the cattle, he plugs himself into the wine cellar and disappears," Andresín replied.

"Let's wait and see. This year our father came all the way from Córdoba and warned us that if we do anything naughty, we won't get paid for the rest of the year," said Currillo.

"But there must be something else, right?" asked Felipe, who wasn't a big fan of bathing.

–What do you think? We're running late.

–Look Andresín, this is the Partner.

–Whose? Yours? –Andresín asked.

–Ha, ha, ha! What a silly boy you are! That's his nickname because he always uses that word.

–Hello. –Andresín said, extending his hand.

"What's up, buddy?" the new guy replied, and everyone burst out laughing.

Following the route marked by the host, they headed towards the upper part of the town, where the water of the Río de la Plata irrigated the fertile orchards of San Marcos, amidst pushes, trips, slaps and laughter.

And so, almost without realizing it, the afternoon faded away until the group turned brown like cats in the night.

"So what are we going to do? Just tell me what's going on, because I don't know anything about this and I'm out of my element. I'm from the city," Ricardo said, addressing Andresín.

–Well, first we're going to sneak into the cemetery and…

"What?" asked the pale young city dweller, looking at the people from Cordoba.

–I, I, I don't go into the cemetery at night.

–Ha, ha, ha. –They all laughed.

–Relax man, we're on the other side of town.

–I'm telling you the truth. I wouldn't go in there even if I were dead.

"Ha, ha, ha. Well, that's exactly how you're going to get in, but not today. Let's try Uncle Camilo's buds," said Andresín.

In no time they were in the vegetable garden in front of a beautiful bunch of tied-up lettuce.

–Like goats? –Currillo asked.

–That's right, ha, ha, ha. –Replied the man from San Marcos.

"Wait a minute," interrupted the Cordobans' friend and business partner, very seriously. "What's so funny about eating lettuce at night? What's the joke?"

"Very simple, Riqui," Felipín replied, gesturing for him to lower his voice so they wouldn't be discovered. "We get down on all fours, like goats. We remove the rubber band that holds the leaves together, eat the inside, and put the rubber band back on. You'll see the look on their faces when they sell it at the market, ha, ha, ha.".

–Oh my gosh! –Exclaimed the new guy in the group, throwing himself to the ground on all fours.

Needless to say, Andresín had already devoured four buds during the brief explanation. The night passed peacefully amidst figs, cherries, and plums stolen from the trees themselves, until, as they were climbing Uncle Camilo's fig tree, the house lights came on and the mastiffs stood at the foot of the tree, snapping at the air and with their eyes fixed on the poaching lads.

"Well, well!" exclaimed Camilo. "Look at those plump sparrows perched in the fig tree. These must be the ones eating all the fruit in the orchard. Julia!" he called to his wife. "Bring the shotgun; we're having dinner tonight."
chicken!

Ricardo, Felipín and Currillo became very nervous and began to shout for help in a panic, while Andresín continued to eat the sweet fruits that spilled from the corner of his lips.

Then, Uncle Camilo realized who was the only one who, not only had not flinched at the threat of the shots fired into the air, but was still happily gobbling up the figs two at a time.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Tomasa's son! But Andresín, with all the fig trees in the village, why do you always have to come to this one? You know I don't mind if the neighbors pick a few figs, but you're worth fifty of them!".

The boys, somewhat calmer after noticing the man's friendlier tone, couldn't believe their eyes. Andresín just kept eating and eating.

"Excuse me, Uncle Camilo," the young man replied, his mouth catching in his throat. "We were just passing by, and these guys wanted to try the figs.".

"These?" the old man asked.

"Us?" the strangers chanted.

–Well, we're off, we have to work tomorrow. Your figs are very good this year. Say hello to your wife.

Uncle Camilo looked up at the stars with a sigh, and the boys headed up the Cuesta del Garrote to the town square.

"Uncle, Andresín!" Felipín scolded him. "Why did you tell him it was our business?"

"So what?" Andresín said, laughing loudly. "You're leaving in three weeks and I'm staying. Better to blame yourself.".

"Of course, and what if it starts shooting?" Ricardo said, still trembling.

"If a shooting had started, it wouldn't have mattered whose idea it was. Besides, I knew he wasn't going to shoot," he said, crossing his fingers.

–Well, tomorrow at eight o'clock, when the heat subsides, we'll meet in the square; the rest of the gang will surely be in town by then.

And after shaking hands, each went into his own house.

"Andrés!" exclaimed Tomasa. "How many times do I have to tell you not to go out into the fields in your white work shirt?"

You look terrible, considering how much it costs me to buy you clothes. Look how stained they are! And what's with that outfit? Have you been eating figs? You're going to get twice as fat as you already are. You're such a glutton!

Andresín, his belly full of his favorite fruit, lay down on his wooden cot that creaked almost to the point of breaking its walnut frame and closed his eyes peacefully.

The next day, more and more strangers continued to arrive in the village, and among them, the rest of the summer gang.

The blond ones, Vivi and Coque, who were called that because their hair was almost like summer wheat. Rumualdín, who, although born in San Marcos, had left for Cádiz as a young man. Also Rafalillo, the son of the electrician from the next town over, nicknamed "Fast" because he was always late everywhere. Mai, the youngest son of the town hall works manager, with his raspy voice that gave him a grumpy air. And finally, Chechu, a great mushroom enthusiast who loved to hunt among the local poplars.

When that gang was together, the neighbors' gardens trembled. And despite all being younger than Andresín, they had a blast with him, because, although he might have been older, he came up with the funniest and most mischievous pranks.

That afternoon they went towards the Civil Guard's section of the vineyard. At that time of year the grapes were a bit green and sour, but it wasn't something they minded much, especially the blond ones.

Wandering through that area of orchards was fairly safe, except along the banks of the Jarca stream. Irrigation ditches and footbridges for crossing the stream were plentiful there. They were usually quite neglected and therefore somewhat dangerous. Sometimes it was safer to slide down the bank of the stream than to try to cross by placing your feet on the planks of any of the bridges.

The young group knew the area like the back of their hand, their experience honed through countless falls down those embankments. Well, not all of them. Ricardo, the new guy, was visiting the town and, naturally, that area for the first time.

If moving through the fields, the riverbank, and the almond saplings was already difficult during the day, at night it was a veritable amalgamation of dangers if you didn't know the terrain. Blocks of dry mud, like melons, invited you to trip and leave your chin slammed against some other clod. Slopes of loose gravel where the flip-flops the boys usually wore in summer slipped as if they were covered in grease. Low branches of the almond trees and other fruit trees seemed to have been placed at eye level on purpose to herd you.
slaps at every step…

That journey in the dark, illuminated only occasionally by a small flashlight, seemed incredibly exciting to Ricardo. As a city boy, he had never done anything like it, anything that released so much adrenaline.

–Shhh –They would say to each other constantly whenever one of them tripped

–They're going to catch us!

And then the new kid could be heard joking: –Look, Felipín, just like when we were in Vietnam.

At first everyone found it very funny, and even Andresín stopped eating apricots for a moment, choked with laughter.

–What things the partner says! Ha, ha, ha.

After devouring the grapes from one of Don Fabrique's vines and eating some fruit they found along the way, they headed towards the municipal swimming pools. The plan was simple: jump over the wall and bathe in their birthday suits.

Something quite simple for everyone except Andresín. With his extra weight, it was quite an ordeal to lift that massive frame up the wall. In the end, he always needed the help of the other kids who, with a few shoves on his enormous backside, managed to pull him up to the top of the stone wall. That's when the second problem began: getting down without crashing to the ground. Amid laughter and the occasional fart that escaped one of them with the effort, they managed to get him down with only a few minor scratches from rubbing against the stone wall.

"Come on, son," Chechu protested. "If you don't lose weight, we're not coming back here.".

"How do you know, Chechu? Next time we'll go to any irrigation pond, with its frogs and algae, that'll surely be more worthwhile." Rumualdín reprimanded, playfully kicking Andresín in the butt, who was still straightening his clothes.

The young man knew the facilities well, and while some were already in the water stark naked, he went to prepare a possible escape route. From the changing area, he grabbed a ladder and propped it against the wall in case he needed to make a quick getaway.

"Don't dive in headfirst," Rafalín remarked as a huge, clumsy figure belly flopped onto the water. Andresín, who wasn't a very good swimmer, surfaced, flailing his arms wildly, trying to stay afloat.

–Oeeee. –They all shouted, leaving the electrician's son speechless, and jumped into the pool.

–Like when we were in Vietnam, Felipín!

The partner was starting to get tiresome with his constant talk about Vietnam, and some of them were getting a little fed up.

Such was the commotion caused by the group that in the end, the police car, with Don Bastián at the wheel, stopped next to the door.
Sebastian, whose name the whole village had shortened, was a very rough man, and the village boys were terrified of him. Especially of his famous ear-pulling, with which he usually fixed almost everything.

"Who's there?" he said, trying to unlock the gate with only the light of a small flashlight. That was the problem with those facilities. They were on the outskirts of town, and the lighting was very poor.
Amid whispers, falls, and shoves, they got out of the water, grabbed their clothes, and, as if delivered to the world, jumped over the wall.

–Ouch, oh, wow, I'm getting pricked, phew, ah… –That was the only thing that accompanied the clumsy steps of bare feet in the dark.

Following Andresín, they hurried towards the bridge over the Jarca stream. Afraid of being pursued by Don Bastián, they walked in silence, trying not to suffocate from the lack of oxygen, which was becoming increasingly apparent due to their exertion, especially for Andresín, whose bulging flesh was taking its toll; he was sweating profusely and could barely breathe.

They were all used to being chased, so although they ran exhausted from the effort, they weren't gripped by panic, even though it was the first time they'd felt Don Bastián's breath on their necks, and it had to be said that the pressure was considerable. However, Ricardo, the new boy, was as pale as a sheet. So pale, in fact, that his silhouette was almost visible in the blackness of the night.

He was talkative, a bit cheeky and outgoing, like many of those who lived in big cities.

But out in the fields at night, the poor fellow was a shadow of his own shadow. Always glued to the one in front, almost touching him, trying his best not to fall behind. Even the sound of his own footsteps seemed to him like the growls of terrible beasts chasing them. And so, stumbling and stumbling, he kept up with his companions as best he could.

From time to time, as if trying to hide his fear, he would utter his favorite phrase: –Like when we were in Vietnam, Felipe.

Upon reaching a safe zone, they began to dress their bodies, now covered in scratches and bruises. The younger of the blond boys had lost a sock, and Rafalín had bent the temples of his glasses.

"Just wait until my mother finds out," he said, sounding worried.

"Then don't tell him." Mai grunted with a smile that could be seen even in the absolute darkness.

–Of course, now I show up without my glasses, I can't see a thing, and I say to her, if I can't even see her: –Mother, a miracle!

–Ha, ha, ha… –They all laughed.

–Well, would you like some oranges? –Andresín asked.

"Jeez, kid," Vivi protested. "Are you still hungry? After all that heat we've been through... Let's go now and continue tomorrow.".

"Okay," Andresín agreed.

And they all headed towards the village.

Upon reaching the ford over the stream, as usual, they decided to slide down the embankment to the other side instead of crossing the old bridge. They had done it dozens of times, perhaps a hundred, and everyone except Ricardo knew that a rock halfway down the slope would allow them to set their foot down and slow their speed before continuing the descent.

The first to get off was Andresín, as always. Despite his weight, he did it with great ease. And after him, the rest.

He shone the small flashlight on them. Sometimes on their feet, sometimes on their faces. Just to annoy them.

When it was Ricardo's turn, he simply let himself fall, and when he reached the level of the braking stone, not knowing about that detail, he tripped and flew, crashing face-first into the mud. Silence fell, and Andresín, with his flashlight, searched for his face, following the trail left by the boy's cries. His face was black with mud and red with blood from the scratches.

Andresín, with his particular charm, approached him and said:

–Look Felipe, like when we were in Vietnam.

–Ha, ha, ha… –Everyone burst out laughing. Everyone except Ricardo, of course.

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Antonio Pestana

Antonio Jesús Pestana Salido (Cabra, Córdoba, 1970) es ornitólogo y fotógrafo de naturaleza andaluz, especializado en aves y en la interpretación del paisaje mediterráneo. Desde niño ha estado vinculado al estudio y observación de la fauna, y lleva décadas recorriendo los espacios naturales de Andalucía, especialmente la Subbética cordobesa.

Es fotógrafo de naturaleza premiado a nivel nacional, ganador del primer premio del concurso de fotografía de naturaleza Carl Zeiss (IV edición) con una imagen de digiscoping de piquituerto común, además de otros reconocimientos en concursos especializados de fotografía de aves.

Como ornitólogo de campo ha participado en proyectos de seguimiento y conservación de aves, especialmente rapaces y aves esteparias, y ha sido coordinador provincial en Córdoba de los censos de aguilucho pálido y aguilucho cenizo. También es presidente de la asociación naturalista Abanto, dedicada a la divulgación y conservación del patrimonio natural.

Es autor de varios libros sobre fauna ibérica y cultura popular publicados por editoriales especializadas, entre ellos “Las aves ibéricas en la cultura popular” y “Las rapaces diurnas ibéricas en la cultura popular”, obras que recopilan refranes, creencias y tradiciones relacionadas con las aves en la cultura popular.

Además de su trabajo como autor y fotógrafo, desarrolla actividades de divulgación y educación ambiental, guiando salidas de naturaleza, impartiendo talleres de fotografía de aves y colaborando con centros educativos, asociaciones y proyectos de turismo de naturaleza.
She regularly works with schools, designing wildlife observation activities adapted for primary and secondary school students. She also collaborates with companies and associations on birdwatching tours, teaches nature photography courses, and participates in the design of natural areas.