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Breath of Life

Like a 747 dwarfing the smaller planes at an airport, a mute swan makes a big impact as it touches down near smaller waterfowl on the Sauble River at Ludington State Park.

O.K. It's really a Baltimore Oriole. But since it was residing in Ludington State Park, and since my three sons and I were Ludington Orioles during high school, I have taken some editorial license. The colorful songbird had probably recently returned from the south when I came upon him in mid-May on the Island Trail.

An immature bald eagle soars directly overhead as I hike a trail through the dunes near the Sable River at Ludington State Park. The bird circles over me, seemingly checking me out, or is it just searching for breakfast? Either way, I am grateful for the close-up view.

A pair of mature bald eagles sat majestically on a favorite perch in one of the largest white pine trees in Ludington State Park. I was stunned to see the eagles so naturally vignetted by pine branches as Brad maneuvered our tiny Boston Whaler skiff into Hamlin Lake water shallow enough that I could get out of the boat and stabilize my extra-long tripod on the lake bottom and still keep my tripod ball head and camera dry above the surface of the water. I was very excited about the prospect of making a strong image, but I needed to stay calm and move slowly so as not to appear threatening to the eagles. I got the tripod set, made an “insurance shot” in case the eagles flew and quickly but thoroughly evaluated the digital feedback. Experience had taught me that when outdoor photographers—me included—are this spun up about a shot, we make mistakes we wouldn’t ordinarily make, especially when we fail to really see what we are shooting or just shot. I made that first “adrenaline dump” shot, then deliberately calmed down and set about going through my checklist for finishing the image. Right away I realized that a pine cone looked like it was sticking into the head of the eagle on the right. To eliminate this merger, I had to shift my camera position slightly to the right. I very slowly made my first few steps away from the birds to lessen any anxiety they might already have due to my presence. Then I moved a couple of slow-motion steps to my right and reset my tripod, being careful not to make any sudden movements of my arms and hands. Now the micro-composed composition looked nearly perfect. I quickly made another insurance shot and then focused on looking for a magic moment where the birds’ heads were in optimum alignment with my camera. I wanted to be able to see the profile of their beaks, and I wanted to emphasize the relationship between the pair. Seeing takes intense, total concentration. After a couple minutes, there it was: a magic moment. Click. Done. This was the rewarding finish to a marathon effort to get to this point. Brad and I had spent months learning the daily habits and haunts of several mature eagles we discovered while shooting in 2007 for our book on the park we thought we knew so well but were learning more about every day. I was able to make this photograph not only because we had learned where to look for these eagles, but also because we had learned how and how close we could approach without alarming them. Experience is a good teacher. I was rewarded with one of my all-time favorite wildlife images. Brad and I selected this image for the dedication page of Ludington State Park: Queen of the North in honor of my parents, Bud and Dorothy Reed, a pair of strong leaders who gave Brad and me the “courage to fly.” We thanked them “for encouraging us to soar after our own dreams.” Another dedication page image of an eagle taking flight honored my oldest son Tad, a U.S. Army Infantry officer, and all the other men and women of our Armed Forces who at the time were fighting in Iraq. Even while I was consumed with getting shots for the book, my thoughts and prayers were often focused on Tad, a world away, bravely serving our country. Those thoughts reminded me how fortunate I was to be in the Michigan outdoors living my American dream.

It’s comical to watch geese trying to walk on land, especially when they are only a few days old. This particular group of goslings seemed to be quite fond of the game leapfrog. As they passed by my camera, they clumsily hopped over each other while trying to keep up with the rest of the family.

Kingfishers are incredible in their ability to dive down and grab fish out of the water. The hunt appears effortless and amazingly graceful. I wonder if this kingfisher chuckled to see that a human angler obviously needed more practice with his or her casting skills, thus the fishing line stuck in the tree.

Having multiple camera lenses is a blessing and a curse. After a long snowy hike back from Big Point Sable Lighthouse, I spotted six bald eagles in a row of tall white pines about a quarter mile ahead. Of course, I had my wide-angle lens on my camera, and I scrambled for my telephoto as each bird took flight and soared overhead. Once I had the proper equipment ready, a seventh bird, an immature bald eagle, came into view.

O.K. It’s really a Baltimore Oriole. But since it was residing in Ludington State Park, and since my three sons and I were Ludington Orioles during high school, I have taken some editorial license. The colorful songbird had probably recently returned from the south when I came upon him in mid-May on the Island Trail.

I spotted this loon on Hamlin Lake during a June hike in the Ludington State Park. Photographing it was a personal highlight in a photographic journey that spanned more than a year. I dreamed of reencountering the loon “twice as close” or “twice as close again.” But in six more months of hiking and boating in the park, I never saw a loon again. I am grateful for the opportunity to see this one.

Deep within the forest in the northern part of Ludington State Park lies a pond that my son Brad and I have discovered to be a delightful place. We watched this male wood duck and several others for more than an hour on a late September morning. We waited patiently for them to come closer and then looked for those magic moments when the splendid ducks fit in perfectly with their marshy home.

Attention on deck! A family of Canada geese appears at full alert along the north bank of the Sable River on a summer afternoon. Perhaps they are watching for the fox that lives just around the bend, or perhaps they have already spotted the sly predator.

A three-day-old piping plover is dwarfed by dune grass near a pond in the dunes north of Big Point Sable Lighthouse. The tiny bird has no idea it is a rare endangered species. Michigan Department of Natural Resources piping plover steward Katrina Hernandez and I have spent a couple hours this morning finding the plover and rest of its family after they fled from the cage and fencing designed to keep people and predators away, yet not to restrict the birds from leaving.

I have shot a handful of bald eagles in my years of photography. To make three images including eagles within 35 days of shooting our 366 Project was almost comical to me. The light on this eagle’s wings was too magical to pass up.

I stood on a stool inside of my kitchen and then shot through the window towards my bird feeders outside. I have always loved the color blue. Blue jays are beautiful birds and for whatever reason have always reminded me of my dad. I was happy to make this image.

A pair of trumpeter swans graces the Sable River at Ludington State Park. The threatened native Michigan species has been getting some help in launching a comeback. The band on one of these birds marks it as one introduced to the area by the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians. The "11K" on the band helps naturalists keep track of its whereabouts.

A rare trumpeter swan fans out its wings on a sunny afternoon at Ludington State Park. With a wingspan that reaches six to seven feet, the impressive trumpeters are the world's largest species of waterfowl.

I spotted this loon on Hamlin Lake during a June hike in the Ludington State Park. Photographing it was a personal highlight in a photographic journey that spanned more than a year. I dreamed of reencountering the loon "twice as close" or "twice as close again." But in six more months of hiking and boating in the park, I never saw a loon again. I am grateful for the opportunity to see this one.

An unseasonably mild February day appears to suit a rare trumpeter swan just fine as it rests in the sunshine on the Sable River at Ludington State Park.