It was almost 6 p.m. on a recent Wednesday afternoon when Pablo Agüero trotted across Roosevelt Avenue in Corona, pushing a dark green cart just emptied of 280 glass bottles he had dropped off at a local recycling center in exchange for $14. Earlier that morning, Agüero had cashed in $27. He was now on his way to two apartment buildings where landlords pay him a monthly fee for sorting out the garbage so they can avoid a fine for not recycling.

Agüero is 73 years old. He is slender yet athletic, catching stares as he vigorously maneuvers his heavy-loaded cart. Agüero’s grey moustache frames a broad and bright smile he employs generously when greeting neighbors on the street.

Agüero came to New York almost five years ago from the Dominican Republic. His 48-year-old daughter, Cristina Agüero, an American citizen, brought Agüero and his 72-year-old wife, Maria Miledys, to New York, hoping to eventually have all of Agüero’s six children in the U.S. For the past three years, Agüero has been scavenging the streets of Corona to contribute to the family’s income.

“Every morning I wake up, I wash my face, wait for the mistress to make me some coffee and I’m out the door, on the streets,” Agüero said in Spanish. “Some people feel ashamed to be seen looking for recyclables, but this is a job like any other.”

New Colony Enterprise is one of the five redemption centers in Corona that collects cans, plastic and glass bottles for five cents per item. According to the general manager, Tommy Zhang, the center serves around 50 people each day, most of them in their 50s and 60s. The majority of elderly customers are Hispanic, Zhang said, especially Dominicans, Ecuadorians and Mexicans.

“The kids have papers and bring their parents into the country,” said Carmen Barbecho, a worker at the New Colony Enterprise. “It’s not that their kids force them to work. They just want to do something. Those who can’t find work dedicate their time to scavenging.”

Occasionally, Agüero works three hours a day, from 3 to 6 p.m., at a phone shop in the neighborhood. But because he is paid only $7 an hour at that job, he has resorted to scavenging and garbage collection to make more money.

He sets off every morning at 7.30 a.m., equipped with plastic gloves, a hand towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead and a long-sleeved shirt and hat to protect him from the sun as he sifts through Corona’s garbage. Depending on how much he makes, Agüero may go for a second round of scavenging in the afternoon.

Agüero says he does not keep track of how much he generates from scavenging; his earnings are used for expenses on a day-to-day basis.“Whatever I make, half of it I give it to my wife,” he said.

The couple’s only steady stream of income comes from his work sorting out the garbage at two apartment buildings, which earns him $450 a month. He gives the entire sum to his daughter and son-in-law to help pay the $1,250 monthly rent on the one-bedroom apartment the family shares.

Back in Santo Domingo, Agüero made a living buying paintings from a wholesaler and reselling them door to door. On average, he would make 10,000 Dominican pesos per month, the equivalent of $200.

“We had a better life over there,” his wife said. “Can’t you see how much Pablo works? I worry for him but what can you do if the rent needs to get paid. I don’t know how he is able to resist, how he can have so much strength and energy.”

Agüero needs that drive because scavenging is becoming increasingly competitive in the area, especially in the last decade, according to Zhang of New Colony Enterprise. “In 1997, nobody wanted to pick up in the park,” Zhang said, “but now it’s impossible.”

“Sometimes you can’t find anything. There are too many of us,” said a 53-year-old Mexican day laborer who only brings recyclables every two weeks because he can’t keep up with the competition. He did not want his name used.

Agüero says he relies on the help of neighbors and friends who set aside recyclables for him to pick up.

“I see him everywhere,” said John Jeres, a 46-year-old neighbor. “If he’s not doing this, he’s distributing flyers on Roosevelt Avenue. So many young people out there asking the government for help, but he is here, working.”

Agüero rarely works after 6 p.m. After sorting out the garbage at the apartment block next door, he heads home and parks his green cart in the backyard, next to a red one. Both are adorned with a color-matching stuffed animal hanging in front of the trolley. He explains that he alternates carts.

“When I’m out with one,” he said, “the other one gets to rest.”

— Valerie Dekimpe