Techi and her little gang all peered over in the orchard’s direction.
“May as well start now,” she said.
They set off, the children leading the way, once again in their neat line, with Techi following behind at a relaxed pace but keeping an eye on them. It felt exactly like a preschool class out on a day trip.
I rushed over to my bag and grabbed a notebook and pen—key items for my new education. It might also be good to take some photos or videos. I checked my phone battery. …Better grab a portable charger too, just in case. That should cover all the basics. I slid everything into my jean pockets
“Left, right, left, right!” the kids shouted up ahead, cheerfully making progress. I ran to catch up with them, their bobbing tails visible even from a distance.
When we arrived at the orchard, the children formed another line in front of Techi, who’d sat down. They filed past one by one, and she gently patted each child on the head, counting them as she went.
“Nineteen…twenty. Okay, there are twenty of you helping out today,” she said, standing back up. “Now, listen up—the landlord may have changed, but the work hasn’t. Pay attention, don’t hurt yourself, and be thorough in your work. All right?”
“Yes, Techi!” echoed the kids in a cheerful chorus.
Then they all dashed to a small cabin tucked away in one the corner of the orchard—some sort of storage shed—and disappeared inside. They emerged a short time later, each clutching a small wooden pole in one hand and a small garbage bag in the other, raising them overhead so we could see. Then they broke into a run and scattered throughout the orchard, each picking a nearby chestnut tree.
The little chipmunks hopped and swiftly climbed high up into the branches in an incredible show of skill and agility—despite still holding their bags and poles. Once they found a suitable branch to perch on, they each sat still and began carefully scanning the trunk and branches, sniffing the air as they did so.
“Today’s chestnut day. We might check on the walnut trees tomorrow. Although we can do it whenever, really—walnuts don’t need much looking after. Chestnuts are pretty hardy too. But, since we don’t use any chemicals or pesticides, we have to keep a careful lookout for pests and disease,” explained Techi, keeping an eye on the climbing kids while we headed toward another structure not far from the storage shed.
This one resembled a rest area you might find on a hiking trail—a concrete foundation underfoot and a wooden roof overhead, with a set of wooden benches and tables in the middle. There was also a small washing area, much like you’d find at a campground, and a water pipe, complete with a faucet.
Upon closer inspection, I also saw a gas pipe, next to a spot clearly meant for a cooking stove. There was no stove in sight. But it’d be easy to get a hold of one and cook out here, or even just boil fresh water for green tea.
Judging from the comfortable way that she seated herself, I could tell Techi had spent a lot of time here. I pictured her drinking tea together with Great-Grandpa as they’d supervised the children. I sat down on the bench opposite and took another look around the shelter and at the children in the orchard beyond. Then I readied my pen and notebook and launched into my first question.
“What exactly are the children doing?” I asked. “What’s with the bags and the sticks?”
“It’s like I said. They’re checking for signs of disease and keeping an eye out for bugs and other parasites while they’re at it,” said Techi, glancing over at the children as she spoke. “If they find any pests, they pry them loose with the pole and collect them safely in the bag. Small, swarming insects like aphids need a different approach. But the stick method is fine for most of the bugs we get here.
“If we do find a diseased tree, we can mix up our own medicine. But usually, we’ll just call the arborist and get them to look at it for us. Do you know what an arborist is? Sometimes, they’re also called tree surgeons—they specialize in tree medicine. Tomiyasu used to call in his arborist twice a year, even if there was nothing wrong. You know how it is; sometimes you just need to talk to a specialist. I’ll give you their phone number, so be sure to call and introduce yourself later.”
Techi reeled off a series of digits from memory as I hastily scribbled them down.
“What else do we do…” she continued. “Oh! Every year around February, we prune back all the trees. The pruned branches are refrigerated for use as scions when grafting new saplings. You must’ve read about grafting, right? You grow a new sapling from a nut or seed. Then, once it reaches a certain size, you graft one of your pruned branches onto the trunk to create a completely new tree. When you graft rather than growing from scratch, you get far more nuts. They taste better, too!
“But, no matter how careful and attentive you are, eventually, a tree will wither and die. So it’s very important to keep numbers up by grafting new saplings every year. You don’t want to wake up one spring and find yourself with a tree cemetery.”
I’d read that it can take several years for a chestnut or walnut tree to reliably bear fruit, unlike, say, vegetables. That means that if a large number of your trees died all at once, your harvest would be hard hit for several years, even if you immediately scrambled to plant a full set of replacement trees. It seemed to be critically important to increase your tree numbers in a gradual and measured way, every year without fail.
“Also…if any trees start to grow weak, we can use fertilizer to reinvigorate them. That’s pretty rare, though—the soil in this forest is incredibly fertile. In fact, using too much fertilizer can also cause trees to get sick. So you need to be very careful not to overdo it.
“What else… Ah, yes! It’s a long way away yet, but at harvest time, you’ll want to sell the chestnuts and walnuts we gather. I’ll give you the contact details for our buyers—we have two. One’s a discerning and reliable businessman. The other rides the coattails of one of Tomiyasu’s childhood friends. And that one’s a good-for-nothing bum who’ll gouge you for less than half the market rate. I strongly recommend you don’t sell anything to that bum. Don’t even call him to say hi!”
Techi gave me two more telephone numbers then proceeded to carefully remind me not to use the second one (in case I’d already forgotten). I added a comment next to the number in my notebook to make sure I wouldn’t. She was clearly very serious about this.
We sat in silence for a moment. My eyes wandered back to the young chipmunks in the trees.
“Hang on,” I said after a little while. “That’s it? That’s all there is to it? Pest control. Fertilize as needed. Graft saplings regularly. Call the tree surgeon in a pinch. That’s…a very short list.”
Techi put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.
“That’s right. It’s not much when you put it that way,” she replied, peering at me through half-closed eyes. “Chestnut trees are very resilient. They do well in the heat and well in the cold; strong winds and heavy rain are no big deal either. Unlike growing fruit and vegetables, you could not lift a finger all year and still get a half-decent chestnut harvest. Walnuts are even more robust. They’re fine with massive weather changes and are very resistant to disease.
“So tell me, how do you feel about that 40 percent now? Was it worth it? Or do you regret taking the loss?”
It felt like she was testing me—her expression was that of someone trying to ferret out another’s intentions. I took a moment to think it over before I replied.
“I don’t think I can judge that until after I’ve counted the earnings from the harvest…wouldn’t you say?” I countered. “Perhaps at that point, I might find that I need to renegotiate our agreement for next year…but Great-Grandpa was an experienced veteran, and no doubt, he’d had good reason to keep the same terms year after year. This is to say…I trust you, Miss Techi, and your helpers.”
Techi let out a sharp breath through her nose and cracked a gentle smirk, her elbows still propping up her face. Her eyes wandered toward the orchard and mine followed. To my astonishment, many of the chipmunks were lounging among the roots beneath the trees or ingeniously wedged in between the higher branches, sleeping soundly.
“Kids will be kids,” said Techi. “They take regular naps. They also like to play and mess around during the workday. Trust is a big word for little creatures like that. Don’t worry—I won’t think any less of you if you admitted that you miscalculated.”
She grinned, clearly delighted by my look of surprise.
“Yes, well… I say it’s a good thing,” I replied, trying to regain my cool. “It just goes to show that you and Gramps weren’t working these poor kids to the bone! What a relief!”
Techi said nothing in response. She simply continued to stare me down with that smirk on her face.