The Evolution of the Avocet

 

If we were talking about real bird-type avocets we’d be into an evolution story spanning millions of years.  Among die-hard traditionalists the B.James Avocet rod is much more famous than the beautiful bird after which it was named, and the decade and a half of the rod’s manufacture much more important than all the wading birds in Christendom. It’s one of those rods that every wooden rod devotee has, or would like to have, is searching for, or saving for, or sadly perhaps feels will never quite come within his grasp. England’s top rod restorer, Tim Watson, fits four of the above categories. He’s lovingly restored a great many wonderful Avocets for their lucky owners, but has never quite managed to find the one he really wants for himself. Truly this is a case of the cobbler’s children having no shoes.

 

I’m realistic enough to admit that debate about fishing rod evolution fits neatly into the dweeby-nerdy-anorak category of ‘interesting angling areas’ but I’m accosted on such matters often enough to believe that this one’s actually worthy of airing.

 

Avocets of any sort are quite rare. James must have made quite a few over the years, but they never made the sorts of numbers of Avocets that they made Mk IV’s.  It was always a connoisseurs’ rod. A sort of  Wizard-like thing that never quite sold as well the Allcocks original sold. It’s only in recent years that we’ve re-discovered that it is a lovely biggish fish rod that has dwelt in the shadow of its more famous Mk IV stable-mate for too long.

 

We know now that the Avocet does most things pretty well.  It’s light enough for long trotting for roach, yet it’s also man enough to handle big barbel, provided the river isn’t too heavy (it isn’t really appropriate the for the flooded Wye).  The real job in hand for the Avocet is chub fishing, or perhaps miraculous golden tench, at dawn on the 16th. There are better all-round heavy barbel rods.

 

The Company of B.James & Son has always been hailed as the originator of the Avocet taper, but the recent arrival of a Southwell Wallis Wizard has led me to doubt that ‘fact’. It’s widely known and agreed that up to 1956/7, when James took delivery of their own beveling machine, Bob Southwell made most, if not all, of the split cane blanks used in the B. James range. There’s nothing sinister in this fact. Many reputable rod-making companies bought in blanks made to their own specification by specialist firms. Southwell’s excellent blanks were used by many shops and specialist rod-makers, particularly in the London tackle trade.

 

There’s a certain amount of ‘play’ in all Southwell/James rod dimensions. Avocets can be a few thou this way or that. But there is a band into which they all fit. So imagine my surprise when I found that Southwell’s own ‘Wallis Wizard’ fits right into the middle of that band. Now we must recognise that a rod is a rod, no matter what it’s called. Here were two rods from the same blank maker with different names, but obviously the same specification.  Interesting, I thought. And more interesting yet because Southwell’s own version was fitted out with the sort of 1940’s brass fittings that suggest it might have been made before the James version (which has always, to my knowledge, been furnished with aluminium fittings). It may be that The Southwell rod was fitted with some old stock fittings, but I don’t think so. Southwell Mk IVs from the very early 1950’s were always fitted with aluminium fittings (and usually pretty horrible ones at that).

 

Of course, unless someone out there knows more  about this than me (entirely likely, and if so I’d very much like to hear what that person might have to say on the subject) we shall never know whether the chicken or the egg came first. The world certainly won’t stop spinning whatever the truth of the matter, but it would be nice to know. Having seen the Avocet in what appears to be an earlier form, and made by the same cane-maker, I’m sure enough in my own mind that the design is Southwell’s, and not James’ (shock, horror, and grown men in paroxysms of self-doubt). My own gut feeling on this is that as James’ split cane supplier, Bob Southwell probably offered them a stock blank design for handle fitting and finishing. James’ used their own name, and the rest is history.

 

Then, we come to another interesting little fact. The famous old London firm of Ogden Smith made a lovely rod that was an Avocet in all but name: the Arun. I’ve measured the Arun, and guess what it really is, under the Ogden Smith varnish. I’d swear it’s a Southwell-made Avocet blank. Although the whole cane butt is slightly smaller diameter, making for a more through action in the assembled rod, the sizes of the split cane middle and top are the same as the Southwell Wallis Wizard, and the early B. James Avocet. It also has the same distinctive degree of cane bake, and peculiar Southwell node spacing. None of this is conclusive evidence, but on a balance of probabilities, I’d say this is out of the same maker’s blank box.

 

It’s often been said that Bob Southwell kiln-baked his cane. Recently acquired information suggests that his cane strips were in fact straightened, nodes pressed in, and at the same time ‘baked’ in a super-heated metal press: something like a giant vice. There is no doubt that whatever form this extraordinary vice thing took, it produced the most wonderful split cane blanks. They were very steely, although a little brittle. Southwell blanks are much more powerful for their size than any other make. The on-cost is that they are more prone to fracture when subjected to nettle bashing, or collision with tree limbs.

 

Southwell blanks are so very distinctive that they are easily identifiable when the eons-worth of varnish is stripped from rods of many makes. I have no moral problem with this. Completion of Article

Badge engineering has been a fact of life for centuries. Ford Mavericks and Nissan Terranos are ef