Welcome. This time, Explora Natura invites you to discover the adventures of Andresín, a boy with the body of an adult and the mind of a child, someone who has no problem saying or doing whatever he thinks at any given moment.

This promises to be a fun and entertaining read to share with the whole family at home. #stayhome. Without further ado, here are more of Andresín's exciting adventures.

The bulls

For some time now, Don Antonio had felt a pang in his stomach every time he passed by Andresín. Much to his chagrin, he had to admit that he owed a debt to that young man with the mind of a child. With his simplicity, he had been able to get the entire Town Hall running smoothly.

Thanks to him, he had also discovered the shamelessness of some of the workers at the People's House. And, above all, the fact that the City Council was performing as it should and as expected had been one of the main reasons why he, Don Antonio, had been re-elected as mayor.

Because of all this, he kept racking his brain to find a way to compensate for it somehow.

–Knock, knock, do you have permission, Don Antonio?

–Come in Miguel, what do you want?

–They've brought the invitations for the bullfight at the fair.

"Great, leave them on my table." As she said this, her eyes lit up. She could invite him to the bullfights. Surely, in his simple life, he'd never been to one, and he'd be grateful. "Perfect!"

–He said to himself in a loud voice –and with that, peace.

–Miguel! –He called euphorically to his secretary's assistant –Go down to the entrance and tell Andresín to come up.

With tired steps, he went down the stairs, perhaps reluctant to deliver a warning to that strange and simple boy at the door.

As if he feared that something as simple as an errand might give him a headache. After a while, he knocked on the mayor's door again.

–Do you give your permission, Don Antonio?

–Tell me Miguel, haven't you warned Andresín yet, like I told you to?

"Don Antonio, that boy is more stubborn than eleven mules combined. He doesn't say he can't move from the door in case someone leaves.".

Looking up and taking a deep breath, Don Antonio wondered if it was a good idea to take that boy to something as serious as a bullfight, a place where the best bullfighters in the region gathered. But oh well, he'd made up his mind and… what could possibly go wrong?

–Tell that idiot to come up here right now.

–As you wish, Don Antonio. I knew that a message for that boy was no simple matter.

After a while, Andresín knocked on the mayor's door.

–Do you give your permission, Don Antonio?

–Come in, Andrés.

–You tell me, but don't delay because I have the door unattended and I'm sure someone will take advantage of it to slip away.

–Let's see, Andrés, I've wanted to do something for you for a while now, thank you for your good work with this House. Do you like bullfighting?

Andresín, visibly moved and surprised, since no one had ever given him anything except his mother—a Caravaca cross she wore around her neck—stared wide-eyed, almost unblinking, at Don Antonio. This was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. No one had ever invited him to eat before, much less to a restaurant. His mouth trembling with nerves, he chose his words carefully and replied:

"You see, Don Antonio, I've never tried them, although I'd be happy to. My mother, Tomasa, says the best are the oxtail and the ribeye steak." And after uttering that answer, a satisfied smile settled on his face.

If Andresín's eyes had widened at the invitation, Don Antonio's were about to pop out of his face—"What kind of answer is that!" he thought. "This blockhead only thinks about filling his bulging belly!" And after closing his eyes for a moment and counting to three or four, he replied: "No, Andrés, I'm not referring to bull meat. I'm referring to bullfights.".

–Ahhh, you should have started there, Don Antonio. Well, I don't know those either.

–Well, if you'd like, I invite you to come with me.

"Yes, yes, Don Antonio. Of course, Don Antonio." For the boy, it was one of the best gifts he had ever received.

None other than the mayor was inviting him to the bullfights.

An hour before he was due to meet Don Antonio, Andresín was there. His tight suit, practically bursting at the seams, betrayed the feast he'd indulged in at lunch. More than one button seemed to want to commit suicide rather than bear the pressure of that youthful belly. Slicked back, like a newborn calf, he leaned his enormous, overgrown figure against the front door. The moment he saw the mayor, he began to shout:

–Don Antonio, Don Antonio!

The mayor, somewhat embarrassed by the loud shouting, signaled him to lower his voice and approached him.

"It's not necessary for everyone, even those from the next town over, to know where I'm going." "Goodness, Andresín, what a long afternoon! You feel like you're inside a water jug. Well, when Don Rafael arrives, we'll go in. You'll sit with us in the box.".

Don Rafael, punctual as they come, arrived on time but a bit rushed. "I thought I wasn't going to make it! I had to take my uncle, Pacomio, you know him, for a walk in the countryside with his things, and he kept me busy.".

"Relax, Rafael. The first bull hasn't even come out yet." And putting his hand on his shoulder, he introduced the boy.

–This is Andresín, the boy I've told you about before. He's never been to a bullfight before, and I've invited him to join us.

–Hey kid, how are you?

–Good afternoon, Don Rafael. Don Antonio has told me that you are quite the expert in the art of bullfighting and that I am sure I will learn a lot from you.

Don Rafael smiled, flattered. "Don Antonio, you exaggerate sometimes.".

And the three of them headed towards the presidential box.

Andresín kept looking around. Settled in a prime spot, he absorbed every detail. The smell of cigars from the gentlemen who, with their dog in a helmet, chatted away. The boy who hummed: "I sell hazelnuts, the tastiest and healthiest.".

–Wow! –He thought –they must be good.

–…and I'm bringing the lupin beans, so you can eat them.

The women, dressed in flamenco dresses, with their combs and flowers in their hair. The Civil Guard, the priest, the pharmacist, the doctor…

"I see very few children," he said to himself.

"And tell me, Don Antonio, what are the bulls like this year? As you can see, I haven't even had time to take a look," commented Don Rafael.

-I think this year's bulls are among the best we've had. They're from that new ranch that was so popular in Madrid, the Marqués de la Gineta ranch.

–Yes, yes, I was informed – said Don Rafael, lighting a brand new cigar.

–One is a soap maker.

“Do bulls make soap?” Andresín interrupted. “It must be the owner, because the soap maker comes by my house every week, and he’s a man. It’s true they have horns too, or so my mother says, though I’ve never understood why. And I’ve even tried to make them.”.

"No, Andrés, no," said Don Antonio, looking up at the sky, while Don Rafael
His words were choked with laughter and the smoke from his cigar. "He's referring to the color of his hair, not to whether he makes or sells soap. Don't you realize he's an animal? Although I don't know if you can tell the difference between animals. Sometimes I don't know if you're stupid or just pulling our leg.".

Andresín continued observing everything, as if he hadn't opened his mouth.

–Well, Don Rafael, as I was saying, this year the bulls look good. The other bull, I don't know if you're aware that this year, due to the crisis, we've only brought two, is black with white markings on his belly…

–And why do they put panties on bulls? Is it so they don't do their business on the yellow earth?

With that boy beside him and his antics, Don Rafael was considering putting out his cigar, as he was bound to choke on the smoke. Don Antonio, somewhat embarrassed in front of his friend and bullfighting connoisseur, closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and swore under his breath.

"Look, Andrés, here's eleven pesetas and you can go buy some lupin beans. It's best if we split up for a little while.".

Andresín, far from being annoyed, hurried off in search of one of the street vendors selling nuts. As he strolled among the stands, stepping on and pushing anyone in his path, something caught his attention enough to make him miraculously forget his precious mission: buying food.

Two boys of about twelve years old, Manuel and Ramón, were running around the alley and from their gestures and laughter, they were plotting something attractive enough to keep approaching.

"What are you doing?" he asked them.

–Here with the trumpets. We're going to have a blast. We tested them by launching projectiles and they travel a good distance. You'll see when the race starts.

Andresín's face lit up. He wasn't entirely sure what those kids were up to, but they seemed promising. It was sure to be hilarious. Much more so than listening to Don Antonio talk about bulls that sell soap or wear underwear.

–And… where can I get one of these trumpets? –he said, showing the eleven duros he had set aside for another purpose.

The older of the two boys, as sharp as could be, told him:

"In exchange for those eleven pesetas you can use mine"—his own, which hadn't cost him anything, since his grandfather had made it for him out of cane. "But you have to give it back to me afterwards, they're not cheap.".

No sooner said than done. The coins were still in the air when Andresín already had his blowgun in his mouth, searching for a target to practice his aim. An elderly gentleman with a large ear, who was sitting waiting for the bullfight to begin, became his target, and his reddish right ear suffered the worst of it.

–Wham! –Hand to ear, sharp turn, and the three trumpet players, barely concealing their excitement, burst into nervous laughter. –This works!

Oblivious to everything that had been happening around them, a bugle call caught their attention. A light-colored, dappled bull appeared like a fury before the crowded portable bullring. After a couple of turns following the cape of the assistants, it came face to face with the maestro. Standing like a statue, he delivered three passes that brought the bull to a halt in front of him as its hooves dug into the sand.

The audience, speechless, awaited one of those passes that only he was capable of making, with the horn parading its dreaded gag a few millimeters from the breeches.

The whole square was silent when the bull jumped and almost caught a bullfighter off guard, who was not expecting such a sudden charge.

–Ooh! –shouted the stands, which stifled and muffled the laughter of the three boys.

Andresín had done it again and had blown a blow to the animal's most noble and lower parts, causing a jump, a kick and bewilderment from the staff.

A truly ferocious beast, it turned towards the bullfighter who managed to give it a couple of passes before bringing it to a sudden halt. Once again, the group of trumpeters had an opportunity, and as the maestro spun around with his sword poised over the animal's forehead –Wham!– another swift thrust to the bull's testicles provoked a new charge that, if not for the shouts of the crowd, would have ended with the bullfighter on the ground.

This wasn't normal. The crowd was whistling, though they weren't sure why. They were certain this wasn't the spectacle they'd expected, but they couldn't criticize the maestro either, because the four passes he'd managed to give the bull had been truly exquisite. To tell the truth, when the animal wasn't jumping, it charged with nobility. But there was something…

Once again, bull faced bullfighter, the crowd fell silent, and the air was cut short by another bull's charge aimed straight at the barrier. In the end, the bull had to be returned to the pen, having learned that every time he stood his ground...
Standing before that man in a suit of lights, a sharp pain rose up from his most beloved and honorable rear end, and he avoided standing in front of the master.

After the bugle call, an imposing, proud bull snorted as it kicked up sand with its hooves.

A stunned crowd, unable to understand why this animal, like its companion, kicked and jumped every time it stood before the bullfighter, began to whistle furiously. The mayor was beside himself with fear. Trembling, he stared with a look of horror and anguish at his knowledgeable colleague, Don Rafael, hoping that he, as a true expert, could offer some explanation that might resolve this extremely awkward situation.

On one of the occasions prior to a new leap by the bull, he saw Andresín's enormous head appear between the lower boards of the ring, carrying something resembling a blowgun between his lips.

He paled, reddened, turned yellow, and even violet.

“But why do I have to complicate my life all by myself! That animal is to blame for everything.” But when he was about to explain to his fellow box seat holder, he chose to remain silent. If he spoke, everyone would know that Andresín, who had been invited by him, was the one to blame. So, with a serious expression, he ordered the bull to be removed again and brought the spectacle to a close.

No one could blame him. If anything, it was the rancher, he thought, who had sent some bad bulls. With a look of utter dismay, his companion Don Rafael, who hadn't grasped the true situation, put his arm around his shoulder.

–Come on, Don Antonio, it's not always in our hands to decide if a
whether something will work or not.

The mayor, somewhat downcast, thought: -in this case, if I hadn't invited…

"Don Antonio, Don Antonio!" shouted Andresín. "Is the bullfight over already? I thought it would last a bit longer," he said, spitting out the sunflower seed shells he'd swiped from some indignant and unsuspecting spectator. "Next time you have to treat me again," he said, as the mayor choked on his cough, turning pale, red, yellow, and even purple.

Discover more of Andresín's adventures at exploranatura.com

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.