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My dad and stepmom Debbie were at the Brooks and Dunn concert tonight at the DTE Energy Music Theatre so I was flying solo while teaching our 20/20 Vision Summer Workshop that we hold every Thursday in Ludington. Just as I was pointing out the two red streaks in the water from the reflection of the clouds, a sailboat passed near by. F2.8 at 1/250, ISO 640, 18-50 mm lens at 18 mm

We took our Heaven on Hamlin Weekend Workshop students on a pontoon boat ride to the southern edge of the Ludington State Park to try to photograph bald eagles. After a long search, we found this eagle perched near the nest. It appeared to be guarding the nest from other predators.

The SS Spartan has not operated since 1979. For several years it has been floating in the same spot behind the Badger. The Spartan has always been my favorite carferry. The word "Spartan" can mean simple or undaunted. I love how the Spartan lives up to its name in this photograph. F8 at 1/800, ISO 400, 10-17mm lens at 15mm

Dunes Are Calling

Hamlin Lake Off Pontoon Boat

Tranquil summer evenings on the Lake Michigan waterfront lure boats and people like fish to water. This late July evening in Pentwater was no exception. As in so many other favorite locations along the Lake Michigan shoreline, people and their vessels are drawn back year after year like salmon to their birthplaces.

I was on top of a large sand dune tonight at the Ludington State Park and was in position to shoot a colorful sunset when I noticed this large lower laker passing by offshore. I decided to not shoot the setting sun, and instead focused on this moment.

"This Is Ludington" by Brad Reed My girlfriend Rachel texted me tonight that the northern lights were out. I rushed to my truck and drove down to Stearns Beach in Ludington. I walked as fast as I could out the pier hoping the dancing northern lights would last long enough for me to get the picture I had pre-visualized. Luckily for me, the light show lasted over an hour, and at times, was spectacular! Nikon D850. F5.6 at 91 seconds, ISO 800. 14-24mm lens at 14mm. On a tripod without a flash. 11:22pm on September 18, 2023.

On the walk back from Big Sable Point Lighthouse around 12:40am on Sunday, May 12th, my dad, Ethan, and I turned around and finally saw the northern lights show we had been waiting for all evening. The pillars shot straight up from the ground to above our heads. It was unbelievably bright and visible to the naked eye. Of course, the camera sees the colors even better than we do. This shot was just before the pillars shrank and disappeared. This is my dad’s photograph.

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.

This looks like a picture from the Great Lakes' past. The Madeline, modeled after historic lumber schooners, sails into Pentwater harbor. Aboard on this Lake Michigan voyage are the ship's crew and Pentwater Yacht Club sailing students. The original Madeline sailed the waters of Lake Michigan more than 150 years ago. F4.0 at 1/800, ISO 100, 12-24 mm lens at 12 mm

I tend to prefer sharp light and haze-free skies at sunset. But I have learned that the softness and toned-down colors of a hazy sky sunset sometimes look and feel better.

Electric Beach

Cruising Lake Michigan

"Heavenly Glory” by Todd Reed Victory Trinity Lutheran Church has long been one of my photographic muses. My favorite country church came to mind while I was photographing the aurora borealis over Mount Epworth at Lincoln Lake. Rather than head home after finishing that image, I drove straight to the church a few miles away. I could see the color and rays of the Northern Lights clearly with my naked eye even before shutting off all my vehicle lights. I knew immediately my decision to come here instead of going home was a good one. I was especially pleased that the sanctuary lights had been left on even though no one appeared to be there. While shooting several time exposures to fine tune my composition and exposure, I watched two possums and seven deer cross the road and peacefully pass near me. I wonder if they were aware of the phenomenal sky I felt privileged to be witnessing. Nikon D850. F4, 130 seconds, 800 ISO. 24-70mm lens at 24mm. On a tripod without a flash. October 7, 2024 at 11:36pm.

Silver Lake shortly after sunrise provided the backdrop for some stored boats on an autumn morning.

Taking Flight by Todd Reed A not yet fully mature bald eagle begins to take off from a fishing perch on Hamlin Lake at Ludington State Park. This eagle is one of the first of several mature and immature bald eagles Brad and I photographed for several months. Finding the rare birds and photographing them without interfering with their daily routines is a challenge Brad and I passionately and intensely pursue. I remember our first eagle sighting. We were raging with hunters' fever. I don't know how we ever got off a shot, let alone a good one. But soon good teamwork, strategy and self-control led to images like this.

A breaking wave splashes onto the rocks protecting the Pentwater South Pier. I am one of only a few visitors to the Pentwater waterfront this evening. I savor the sunset in solitude.