Think you’re an obsessive “Duck Dynasty” fan? Local fisherman Tom Meighan probably has you beat.
“I have every episode of the show stored on my DVR and I carry a gallon of tea with me everywhere I go,” a rather caffeinated Meighan said. “I’ve already pre-ordered a case of the new ‘Duck Dynasty’ jerky, and a couple of sparrows have started a family in my beard.”
According to Meighan’s neighbors, he also routinely leaves his young grandchildren alone in the woods for days on end.
“That’s right,” Meighan said boastfully. “I turn ’em loose with a compass, a buck knife and a pack of Juicy Fruit. My grandchildren ain’t going to become slaves to their phones. They might end up with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, but it’ll make ’em tough; there ain’t no app for tough.”
Meighan, 56, moved away from his home in La Grange in 1978 to manage a gluten farm in El Paso. When the Atkins diet annihilated that industry over a decade ago, Meighan moved his family back to La Grange.
Upon his return, Meighan found work as a welder and rust repairer. Since 1997, he’s also become one of the most successful fishermen on the East Coast.
“Everybody thinks the secret to snagging a bunch of fish is finding a secret spot or a magic lure, but it’s not,” Meighan said. “I’ve followed Phil Robertson since 1980; his duck calls are simply amazing. I once saw a guy use one of Phil’s calls in a New York subway. Within minutes it looked like a Donald Duck family reunion on the A train.
“Seeing those hundreds of ducks being shaken down for train fare inspired me.”
After the duck incident in the New York Subway, Meighan got the idea to create an animal call of his own.
“I enjoy watching the hunting shows on TV but I’m more of a fisherman, so I decided to invent a fish call,” Meighan said.
Meighan said his first attempts at making a fish call were crude, at best. It took months of planning, cursing and ingenuity to arrive at his first prototype.
“The first one was just a duck call with a hook stuck on the end of it,” Meighan said. “I’m pretty good at holding my breath under water, but I got tired of having to shave around barnacles every morning.”
After an unfortunate incident with a crab on the White Oak River left Meighan unable to blow his nose without anesthetic for several weeks, he got the idea to elongate the fish call, thus negating the need to stick his head in the water.
Further modifications produced a call that simulated shrimp flatulence.
“It’s a scientific fact that fish can hear a shrimp toot from up to a mile away,” Meighan said. “That might sound crass to some, but to a fish, that sounds like a fresh seafood dinner. I spent months out in the shed watching old Jacques Cousteau documentaries. Some people do impressions of people; I do impressions of inverted shrimp burps.”
Initially, most of Meighan’s friends and family thought it was insane for a grown man to dedicate so much time to a device that replicated the sound of a shrimp’s colonic calliope. Meighan held firm to his belief of the power of a shrimp’s trouser cough, going so far as to get patents for two of his calls in 2011.
“If I could get Hank Parker or Bill Dance to start using the ‘Cheek Flapper’ or the ‘Brief Blaster’ I’d be in bidness,” Meighan said. “If anybody would like to order one from me personally, they can call 252-527-0175.”
Meighan is also working a line of fish-related pharmaceuticals.
“A few weeks ago a friend of mine accidentally dropped a whole bottle of Prozac in the lake while we were fishing,” Meighan said. “After about an hour, we had perch the size of cinder blocks jumping into the boat. It’s going to be tough figuring out how to get those little green and white capsules onto a hook, but I’m on it, Bo.”
Jon Dawson’s columns appear every Tuesday and Thursday in The Free Press. Contact Jon at 252-559-1092 or jon.dawson@kinston.com. Purchase books, music and “Take a Kid Fishing” T-shirts at jondawson.com.