Fly fishing and the gift of jingle

Down by the riversideThey don’t know it all, these modern instruction manuals. Only in A Boy’s Own Book of Outdoor Sports, published early last century, for example, do you find this nugget:

“In every promising nook, on every inviting eddy, at the foot of every mimic cataract – in fact, in every spot where a trout would be likely to resort for fun, or food, or privacy – his fly must settle. After each deposit in his “creel,” he may look around and admire the prospect, open his ears to the song of the spring birds, and sniff up the delightful odors which the world exhales in turning green. But all these things are to the trout fisher as if they were not, while he is professionally engaged; it is only in the pauses of his art that he ventures upon a parenthetical glance at the general features of the landscape. His basket filled, however, he has leisure to be sentimental, and can sit down on a fence and invoke the muses, if he happens to have the gift of jingle”

[photo courtesy of Cyron]

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