• Pre-Order the American Made Waxed Canvas Jacket

    Pre-Order our American Made Waxed Canvas Jacket today! Will ship in August 2016

    After a year of design and fabric sourcing we are proud to announce the launch of our first jacket.  100% American Made with American fabrics and accessories.  This jacket is like no other jacket you will own. This is your grandfathers jacket re-born!   

    Stitched by Sewell Manufacturing a company that has been Made in the USA for over 95 years and using  Martexin Original Wax and Heavy Martexin Water Repellent fabric.  This jacket fabric is dyed and finished by Martin Corporation, who has been an American manufacturer since 1838.

    We thank everyone for the support and well wishes as we worked on making this jacket as American as possible.  We might not be able to bring hunting gear manufacturing back to America, but we sure are going to try.  

    God Bless America!!! 


    Brian, Greg and Chase

    HALO Waterfowl 

    Posted by Brian McCarthy
  • 2015 Limited Edition HALO "Black and Tan" Timber Call

    Introducing our first Halo Waterfowl Limited Edition Duck Call. You’ve all been asking for one and here it is, a Scotty Smith original.
    This call is tailored with a classic hedgewood barrel, and then fitted with a black acrylic insert which is only appreciated by the serious hunter.
    The call incorporates a brass band which provides a truly ageless feel.
    It’s a burly-style timber call with extra volume on top and just the right amount of hold on the bottom.  
    Its precise design lends plenty of control, yet grants you all the finesse you need so you can bring your ducks all the way.  
    It’s easy to blow. It’s forgiving yet fatal. This is definitely your go-to call and an absolute necessity on anyone’s lanyard – regardless of if you’re a total expert or just starting out.
    Will ship in 10 - 12 days
    Posted by Brian McCarthy
  • It's Hot

    It’s July in the South and it’s hot. The northern hemisphere is bathed in sun and we hunters begin to yearn for the first hint of autumn wind. I find myself worrying about the coyotes thinning out the deer herds. I see my nation caught in a whirlwind of politics and media agendas. I read and hear about the spread of fanaticism in territories where my countrymen and countrywomen bled and died. I worry about money and returning to college and the workload that waits in the coming year. The summer heat oppresses, and I wish to remain around the ocean, lake, or river until the sunset cools to darker orange and the leaves turn to red and gold. However, I have to work. I’m not privileged enough to spend all summer sunning by the poolside.

    Yet, the dog days of summer are still ahead. It’s going to be hot, but nothing we can’t handle. I’m sure our brothers and sisters that live in the north cherish these hot days. We southerners are constantly reminded how our winters can’t compare with northern snowpack’s. I’ll concede that. I’ve been hypothermic a few times in my life, and the cold can get old quick. Anyways, let’s press through these hot months. Enjoy the water and free time if you haven’t already. If you don’t have much going on, start planning for the upcoming hunting, football, school, or whatever awaits you in the fall. Keep your head up. I’m saying all this just as much for me as for anyone reading this post. It’s easy to feel down with all the buzz, noise, and confusion circulating through the endless screens and devices in our lives. Our nation was made great by the sweat of our ancestor’s brows, and that’s the only thing that will keep it that way, but still find time for you, family, and friends. Have a great weekend everyone.


    Posted by Brian McCarthy
  • The 4th of July

    I’ve lived a fortunate life during fortunate times. Many who know my story would probably say otherwise, but I’ve been blessed to live in the greatest nation the world has known. I joined the U.S. Army after high school, and served nearly four years with two tours in Iraq. I am proud that my family has served in basically every war since the American Revolution. After I finished hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2012, I skimmed through a folder of my family history and discovered we have been a military family since the founding of the U.S.A.
    When you join the military, the government owns you; it’s a fact. Your body, time, and life belong to the government. Furthermore, if you serve in the infantry as I did, or take extra leaps to join the special ops community, the amount of physical, mental, and spiritual torture often reach levels of extreme agony. Most of my time in the Army was grueling and seemed never ending. Pain has no concept of time and hope teases those in agony, deployments can last a lifetime. The dreams and fantasies that kept my feet moving, loads of gear on my back and my eyes open after thirty hour missions, turned into nightmares after I left the military, but I fought through mundane niceties and mannerisms of the newfound technological 21st Century.
    I spent two years of my life after my undergraduate studies working for one of the top corporations in the world. The pay was good, and I led a team out of Atlanta, flying across the south 3-4 weeks a month. I am a traveller. I enjoy new places and breaking the norm, but racing around the country and working sixty plus hours soon made me realize I was in bondage to my employers. I don’t know if it is in my blood to keep my life my own, or if I just cannot stand the corporate lifestyle and submitting to a nice and comfortable existence. I turned down an opportunity to work in California, and people tell me all the time I was stupid to do so, but I felt compelled to return to college. Basically, I feel that working for hourly wages is a form of slave labor unless one truly enjoys their occupation, or one feels they are contributing to a greater overall cause.
    Why am I saying all this? The events over the past few weeks have our nation in an uproar. The psychopath who murdered church members in South Carolina is wrong on every level. I don’t understand why the guy who committed the atrocious crime is not taken behind a barn to dig his own grave. I suppose our leaders find it better to spend millions of dollars on his trial, and squeeze all the political leverage possible out of the racially charged shooting.
    Some of my ancestors fought for the confederacy during the Civil War. I have never flown a confederate flag. I have always sported the red, white, and blue. One of my older brothers has always been a history buff, and when we were young he had a subscription to Civil War magazine. He knows everything about that war, and being from the South, we always admired the southern soldier and brilliant tacticians such as Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee. Also, we grew up in the one state that was purposefully burnt to the ground. War is nasty. Both sides always commit horrible acts. I’m quite sure there was plenty of pillaging, murdering, and rape occurring during Sherman’s march to the sea. Did Georgia deserve it?
    Does anybody deserve anything? Do people get what they deserve? Yes and no. It’s a complex world.
    Ironically, I always felt a bond to the Union soldier when I was a kid. I don’t know if it was because the North won, because I knew slavery was wrong, I was secretly fighting my brother, or if in a past life I may have fought alongside the Yanks. Who knows such things? I remember vivid images, playing imaginary war on brown autumn grasses, pretending I was fighting with the Union Army. In my mind, bodies scattered the yard and pasture of my childhood in a savage and bloody mess, but I brandished my whiffle ball bat, pretending it was a musket, and fought through the cannon fire and screams before my mother called me in to supper.
    What’s the point of saying all of this? I suppose to get some thoughts off my chest. The plight that African-Americans had to suffer through in our nation’s history is horrible. It is amazing how far we as a society have progressed in such a short time. African-Americans, just like all Americans, and all people on the planet, deserve a decent life. No one should be forced to work under torturous conditions.
    Here’s some food for thought, instead of trying to recreate dissension, how about focusing on the injustices currently taking place? I’d like to know how many movie stars or rappers wear blood diamonds everyday. Coltan, one of the key materials used to make cell phones, is mined in the Congo through slave labor. Think about how many products we use daily that are made in China, and think about how those workers live. Basically, if you currently live in the United States of America, you are funding slavery in one way or another.
    I’ve drifted a bit during this one, but the 4th of July always does it to me. The 4th is probably my favorite holiday other than Christmas. I saw a statistic today: Since 1999 roughly 6,000 U.S. servicemen have been killed while 128,000 have killed themselves. Our soldiers, whether they’re black, white, brown, pink, or whatever, willingly sacrifice their lives so others may live in peace. They deserve a better life, or at least the hope of a better life, without reverting to suicide. If we could join together as we have done in the past, perhaps our soldiers would be allowed to conquer the slave labor still occurring across the globe and rise above the societal demons that haunt them.
    Remember, we are blessed to live in the greatest nation ever. Let’s make sure it is not lost to mob mentality and the lies streaming through our phones, laptops, television, and so forth. Get outside. Talk to people without typing to them. Be prejudice against nothing except ignorance and injustice. I know the people of the United States will prevail and hold strong together.  Shoot some guns and fireworks this weekend. First and foremost, watch after the children. Take time to remember all the men and women who have lost their lives in support of our country, through the dark times and good.
    God Bless America.
    Posted by Brian McCarthy
  • Buffalo Run


    I hopped the gate and jogged slow down the gravel road. A constant breeze blew all day, making the mid 80-degree temperature bearable, but the breeze I expected had died into an oppressive Georgia humidity. I’ve ran, hiked, swam, and lifted since I was in middle school. Staying active, and particularly running, has saved my life, but I’m not in great running shape right now. However, the past week’s time working in the bar with blaring music, strobe lights, and talking to drunk folks had me needing some solitude. I enjoy the social scene and a few brews, but there’s only so much noise one can take, so I drove home to the country of northwest Georgia.

    The afternoon heat beat me down, reminding me that I am not yet acclimatized for the sweltering months ahead. I was lucky enough to spot two buffalo beside a tall fence. I kept jogging, up and down hills on gravel roads. I stopped and checked out two peacocks, some mules, and donkeys. These animals are rescues, and are sheltered on a large property near my childhood home. I had never noticed how large peacock’s feet were, three toes and reptilian skin on legs that look like a dinosaur’s. The peacocks winked at me, as curious of me as I was of them, and I turned to continue my run.

    At the base of a hill, in a little draw by the road, a coyote studied me. I don’t know how long he had watched me, but nothing was lost to his keen senses. Fire orange fur mixed with black on his coat. He scurried across a culvert and disappeared into the woods. As I jogged past a lane cut through the woods, the coyote stood fifty yards away staring at me. This was the third coyote I’ve seen in the past few weeks. They have invaded the surrounding area, and I plan to start hunting them. They’re exquisite creatures, and their instincts are sharp, but I’m more concerned with the deer population. I nearly stopped to look at the ‘yote, but I read that these dogs are so smart that they’re never fooled twice. Therefore, I didn’t want this boy to get more looks or smells of me other than what he already had in case I happen to come across him with a rifle in my hand.

    I passed the second lake and had to walk up a steep hill that I used to run. My mind quickly returned to my worries. I run to sweat those worries away. When I heave for oxygen and my legs burn I’m not thinking about the countless things I need to do, but as I walked everything came pouring back. Last weekend was the anniversary of a tragic time in my life, so I was filtering through my memories and recalling how brutal the world can be. I started running again.

    Crows flurried off a wooden feeder as I crested a ridge. A little further I glimpsed a turkey sprint away into the woods. I ran slow along the ridge. Sweat poured over my face and down my torso. I had dropped my shirt miles back. On the high ground I spotted two hawks circling for prey. I descended down the ridge on the maze of gravel roads I became familiar with a few years back. Running around the first lake, on a stone bridge, a black snake around five feet long raced away from my pounding feet. I jumped on the small bridge and stood over the snake. There were patterns subdued under the black film on the snake’s back. It shook its tail against brush leaves to imitate a rattler which made me smile.

    I ran through high grass next to railroad tracks and jumped back onto the road I began on. I saw two rabbits and grabbed my shirt before striding out back to the gate where I started.

    As I walked on the road back to Bubba Glen’s house, I was hot for one, but also thankful for the amount of wildlife I had just seen. The clouds thickened and I heard a few rumbles of thunder as I walked up to my Explorer. I stretched my legs and the patter of rain on leaves clapped across the street. I sat under an oak tree and watched the rain spread. Thunder rumbled pillow soft like it does on late summer nights. I let the rain drop on my already soaked body.

    It’s great to be social and spend time with friends and family, but sometimes we need an escape to sort some stuff out and basically get away from all the noise. On a normal day, we interact with countless people. I love people and I enjoy company, but sometimes we feel more human when we get away from the crowd. That’s how I felt after coming across a variety of animals on a run that kicked my butt.

    Some of the staff are linking up this weekend in the swamp to have a HALO hangout. I’ll be headed to Florida to offshore fish in the Atlantic, and if all goes well I’ll have a cooler full of fresh Mahi. Have a safe and enjoyable weekend.



    Posted by Brian McCarthy