THE ANGLER AND AMBIDEXTERITY.
IT has always been an enigma to me why, having been endowed by
Providence with two hands, we should knowingly and deliberately
minimise the boon. All ranks and conditions of men, be their
occupations what they may, are affected. The nerves, sinews, and powers
of our left hands are equally as efficient and valuable as those of our
right hands; or, more strictly speaking, would be so if we only gave
them half a chance. Who has not experienced the difficulty of folding
a tie, tying a knot, or even buttoning a collar or a boot, &c., when
the right hand has been temporarily incapacitated? And who, except
the ambidextrous man, would be bold enough to shave himself entirely
with the left hand? Injure a man's right hand, and you render him
practically useless. Of all the arts, music alone trains both hands
equally; in some trades, such as cotton weaving, spinning, &c., the
left hands do their proper share of the work.
Consider for a moment the amount of wastage there is in manual work
alone through this premeditated reduction of effective power! We
seem to be content, apparently, to halve our powers, and this for no
useful purpose whatever. The very children, who naturally would be
ambidextrous, are chidden and checked by their parents if, following a
natural instinct, they take up a pencil or a spoon in their left hands;
and so on through their school days, and even after, each and every
attempt to make a proper use of their left hand is sternly reproved,
until at last the poor unused and untaught left hands and arms become
of very secondary importance. Is there any phase of life in which
ambidexterity would not be a factor of the greatest value? Would it not
be a priceless boon equally to the soldier, the surgeon, the engineer,
the craftsman, the clerk, or the artisan? And does not the same apply
in the domain of sport? In shooting, would you not be at an advantage
if you could shoot equally from either shoulder? The fisherman--how
would it favour him? I unhesitatingly answer that it would aid him in
every branch of his sport.
What angler amongst us could tie a Turle knot, or even thread an eyed
fly, left-handed? We should fumble and fume, and probably give it up
in despair. To the dry-fly fisherman the advantage that would accrue
through equality of arms and hands would simply mean a duplication of
effective power. Think of the countless occasions when an overhanging
tree or obtrusive bush has rendered a right-hand cast difficult, if
not impossible. In one position in particular a left-hand cast is of
extreme value. It enables you to command the water under your own bank
without having recourse to an awkward and always precarious back-handed
cast.
You are carefully stalking your way up stream, the wind perhaps blowing
towards your own bank, the left bank of the river. About twenty yards
above you there is an overhanging tussock of grass with fringing blades
hanging over the stream. Near this tussock, or a little above it, you
note the dimple of a feeding trout; he is in a position where all the
duns are brought quietly sailing past his vantage post. A well-cocked
fly must inevitably secure him. You watch the duns one by one taken by
him; he is feeding steadily, and seems to be a good fish. To reach him
you have to cast with the right hand over the left shoulder. It is ten
to one that, if the length of cast is correct, the fly will be guided,
partly by the wind and partly by your arm, into the fringing grasses.
If it can be snatched off without scaring your trout, well and good;
but sooner or later, unless a particularly happy cast overcomes the
difficulty, you are bound to be hung up in the aforesaid tussock so
firmly as to necessitate a careful crawl to try and disengage your fly.
If you can free the fly without scaring the trout, well, you are so
far a lucky man. You either then recommence your struggle with adverse
circumstances, or more probably give him up as a bad job. Use your
left hand and arm, if you can, and the cast becomes a perfectly simple
one. Every dry-fly angler, moreover, knows full well how soon constant
casting and drying the fly tires and cramps the wrist and arm. What a
relief, then, to rest your right hand and give your left a chance.
Nature has a wonderful recuperative power, and will reassert herself
provided you allow her to do so. The reacquisition of normal left-hand
dexterity is by no means difficult; a little assiduous practice,
despite the first feeling of awkwardness, will soon encourage you
to persevere. Practise on the lawn at a saucer, and in varying
conditions of wind, before the season commences; you will not only gain
additional interest in your casting, but will have acquired an asset of
considerable value.
Not long ago, commenting upon what it was pleased to call the "latest
craze," viz., ambidexterity, an evening paper made merry over the
subject, and declared that there were enough awkward single-handed
men in the world without seeking to add an army of still more awkward
double-handed men. Such chaff may provoke a passing smile, but no chaff
will ever detract one iota from the value of double-handedness, and I
most strongly urge all anglers, old or young, to devote some little
time and attention to the acquirement of this most useful, though so
long neglected, bi-manual dexterity.
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