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Calm water, geese, fog, and a colorful sunrise are common ingredients in outdoor photography. When you combine all four of them in one photograph, you have a recipe for success.

In order to help protect this beautiful piebald deer, my dad and I have sworn not to tell people where we found it. We had received a tip from a family friend, and after almost two hours of searching for this elusive animal, we were getting ready to give up. Suddenly, I spotted it about 75 yards away in the woods. It wasn't until I downloaded this image and saw it on my 30-inch monitor that I noticed the other two deer in the scene. Our perseverance and teamwork paid off.

Underway and making way, slow but sure, a turtle plodded along the beach near the Ludington State Park Beach House. The turtle’s slow pace gave me time to create an artistic composition that emphasized the beauty of its tracks. The highlights and shadows resulting from the bright, low-in-the-sky evening light raking across the beach made the tracks more distinct and more beautiful. This is one of my son Brad’s favorite images of mine. Brad was ecstatic when he saw the Fuji Velvia slide of this image after I dug it out of the slide storage box it had been living in for years.

I don't know who was more determined, the fish trying to jump up the dam on the Betsie River, or me trying to capture a flying fish with my camera. After a 30 minute battle, I finally got my photo. Unfortunately for the fish, it never made it high enough to get over the dam.

Snowy Owl

Keep Off

Benzie Dam

Old enough to explore, a fawn pauses to check out a potential threat at the edge of its still small world in a swale between dunes near the Sable River. Hundreds of park visitors swimming, fishing, or just sitting on the beach have no idea the nearby swale is the fawn's first home.

Wednesday (3378)

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.

Legends Ranch Clover Field in Morning

Birds of a feather try to stay warm on a wire together along Iris Road. They remind me of tightrope walkers maintaining balance as their wire perch sways erratically with gusts of ice-cold wind. F2.8 at 1/800, ISO 400, 300 mm lens at 300 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.

Soaring by Todd Reed Our adrenalin flies off the chart as this bald eagle sweeps right over the top of our photography skiff on Hamlin Lake. My son Brad and I have set out this morning in our tiny Boston Whaler to try to show another avid bird photographer, Dr. Zane Knoer, an eagle to photograph. We are getting a better eagle show than we could have dreamed.

What is there about watching a seagull soar into the sunset that makes us want to trade places, if only for a short flight? I had that feeling one warm, sunny evening while watching this gull fly over Lake Michigan. But I have witnessed the opposite extreme--seagulls hunkering down on ice formations against wind, snow and cold on subzero mornings. Life as a seagull probably is seldom romantic; often it is a fight for survival.

Legends Ranch Bucks at Stump Blind Black and White

Brads Buck

Funny Buck

Looking for Danger

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.