The Chestnut Hunters, Part II

Update to the chestnut harvest taking place on the hill by my apartment building:

The hill was deserted when I started for the grocery store, about 11:15. By 12, when I stumbled down the hill balancing two heavy bags, a full chestnut hunting crew was on duty.

Four older men: Two were engaged in careful inspection of the night's harvest - chestnuts that had fallen on their own. A third man watched, shaking his head as the empty plastic blag he'd hoped to fill with chestuts sagged in his hand.

-No hay nada hoy.
-There's nothing today.

The fourth man was taking action. Armed with a long switch, he whipped at the tree's upper branches, then ducked as clusters of green rained down all around him.

At the bottom of the hill stood two city greens workers, laughing at the chestnut hunt even as they clucked their tongues. There'd be a mess to rake up on that hill later. Their private conversation seemed to end in frustration.

"¡Hombre!", one of them called out to the old man beating the tree with a switch.

-Se cae sólo.
-Se cae sólo, hombre.

-They fall on their own, buddy. They fall on their own.