VICKSBURG, Miss.—The frenetic energy of a rapidly changing world isn’t welcome along the leisurely, bricked riverside street in the Civil War-era town of Vicksburg, Mississippi.
Time saunters at its own pace, like a wayward Confederate soldier who preferred poetry over conscription.
At the corner of Washington and Grove streets sits Parish Waterfowl Co., owned by Brad Eldridge, a man who chose to leave his 9-to-5 job to carve out his own life by making custom duck calls.
The Parish Waterfowl Co. is both an espresso café and Eldridge’s woodworking shop.
Usually, customers are greeted at the front door by Parish, Eldridge’s 8-year-old, 100-pound black lab rescue who retrieves fallen ducks when out on a hunt. However, on this rainy afternoon, he’s resting an injury at home.
The café is dim and empty. Weekdays bring little activity except for the Civil War buffs who trickle in from other states and countries to visit the Vicksburg Military Park, a nearly 20-mile tour through ghostly landscapes where soldiers fought and died, memorialized by monuments and restored artifacts, such as the 1862 USS Cairo gunboat recovered from the Mississippi River in the 1960s.
Eldridge and his wife, Callie, have two daughters, 15-year-old Hendrix and 7-year-old Hayes. He said he had always wanted to own a coffee shop where community members could gather in fellowship.
Ducks, which congregate in flocks, aren’t unlike people who seek out opportunities to connect with others, he said.
“They are very social and verbal,” he told The Epoch Times.
When the birds hear a duck call, a few will break away from the flock to investigate, he explained.
“It’s like we’re communicating.”
But the ducks are smart, and getting them to come closer isn’t as simple as blowing a duck call and saying, “Here, ducky, ducky,” Eldridge said.
“They'll circle 30 to 40 times before they go down into an area, and they will flare from any movement or flash of light.”
It’s a song and dance that must be timed just right, with the duck call as the chief instrument leading the age-old concert of man versus nature.
Eldridge has been hunting since he was 12. He used cheap $20 duck calls before he discovered the nuances of sound and meaning that a customized wood-carved call could cast into the early morning sky.
He was a grain trader in the agricultural industry when he began to delve into buying and trading custom duck calls on social media.
“I just became addicted to it and found this whole world of people making duck calls,” he recalled.
Still, he said he didn’t feel the need to start making his own calls until he held a weekend hunting fundraiser in October 2019 for a friend whose daughter had to undergo surgery.
Eldridge commissioned a custom duck call maker and a photographer for the two-day duck-hunting event at his home, a former hotel from the 1890s in Mound, Louisiana.
By the end of the weekend, the event raised $13,000, Eldridge said.
“After that weekend, I told myself, ‘I’m going to learn how to take photos and turn duck calls,’” he said.
His game plan involved recreating that weekend experience, using his home as lodging and leasing a piece of property for the hunt while handling the photography and duck calls himself, he said.
After a year of making duck calls, he built up a clientele as his work in the office became less appealing than his time in his workshop, he said.
He has two modes of production: custom handmade and mass production, which means he makes one call and sends it to a computer numerical control machinist who maps it to a 3D computer-aided design program, he said.
“When I get the call, all I have to do is put in the cork and reed, the part that makes the sound, and I’ll have to tune each call to make it sound just right,” he said.
He made enough money to leave his former job and focus on his craft, which permitted a more flexible schedule, he said.
Faith and Family Front and Center
Eldridge doesn’t shy away from speaking about his faith in God. He uses his café and hunting trips as an opportunity to share his testimony, he said.While waiting for the ducks to awaken and take flight, Eldridge prays, absorbing the pre-dawn arena of nature as it stirs in the last few moments of dark before sunrise, he said.
“Faith and family are front and center for me,” he said. “The times that I have had my closest walk with God wasn’t necessarily in correlation with when I was making the most money. I’ve spent a lot of time on my hands and knees in the back, praying for discernment.”
Doors have opened, and doors have closed, but his faith in God helped him see it was all for a purpose, he said.
On Sundays, he streams his pastor’s sermon at the nondenominational Triumph Church on the mounted television in the café.
His “Fishers of Men” bracelet from a Christian retreat will start conversations on faith with tourists visiting the café, which has sometimes led to prayer.
“I feel like using my platform to witness to people helps bless the venture itself,” he said.
For Eldridge, faith and business are inseparable.
His advice for success to others is to monetize what they’re passionate about.
“Then, use whatever platform that gives you to bless others and lead people to Christ,” he said. “You’ll find blessings, no matter the outcome, and you'll find fulfillment in your work and control over your own time.”
