Ludington State Park Queen of the North

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.

I enter a dark woods off of Piney Ridge Road and soon come to a wall of sand. I start to ascend the massive sand giant, stopping occasionally to let the burning in my legs recede. It is a race. Photographer versus the sunlight of early morning. I crest the peak and turn to the east to see if I've won. I notice beautiful yellow flowers at my feet. I get into position and only have to wait two minutes for the sun. Beautiful!

Fall is a nice time of year to shoot sunrises because you don't have to get out of bed as early to catch the first light of day. The best light to photograph a sunrise often appears 20 minutes before the sun actually appears on the horizon. I made this photograph at Lost Lake during one of our "Picture Perfect Weekend" Workshops. Several of our students made equally compelling photographs.

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.

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.

Marram grass bends against a south wind as the sun sets on an October evening along the Lake Michigan shoreline at an area of Ludington State Park long referred to as the "Second Curve." The hearty dune grass thrives in an often-severe environment, standing up to the wind and sand that buries it as the grass and its roots slow and stop blowing sand grains.

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.

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.

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.

Our friends Dave and Chrissy Hall, lifelong visitors and supporters of the Ludington State Park, graciously offered to take my dad and me in their airplane to photograph aerial views of the park and its surroundings. On a clear May evening in 2007, I made this photo from several thousand feet in the air. The photograph clearly shows the Lake Michigan shoreline, the Sable River, all of Hamlin Lake, Big Point Sable Lighthouse, the Nordhouse Dunes, part of the Manistee National Forest and the entire Ludington State Park.

In the workshops my dad and I lead, we tell our students not to be afraid of turning their cameras vertically. Some of our favorite photographs we have ever made are vertical images. On this day I took a horizontal photograph and a vertical photograph about 10 seconds apart. The composition in the vertical photograph was the definite winner.

Dwarfed by the forest, a cross-country skier glides silently along the Logging Trail on one of those winter days that winter lovers live for. I have skied the Logging Trail so many times I have memorized the views that will greet me over the next hill or around the next curve. Yet I never tire of my Logging Trail journeys. There is something comforting about knowing a place. It is a feeling like home.

Catching sight of a pair of kayakers paddling in one of the many picturesque coves on Lost Lake, I momentarily find myself wanting to join them, to discover what they are discovering, to see what they are seeing. But I have already made my choice to hike the Island Trail this day and I am content to return to my own path of discovery.

Couples of all ages love to take leisurely strolls along the winding shores of Lake Michigan. The sound of the undulating waves, the smell of the beach grass, and the feeling of sand between your toes is so inviting that you can't resist the temptations of our West Michigan shorelines.

Generations of families have enjoyed decades of fun and quality time together while camping at one of the three amazing campgrounds in Ludington State Park. Most families have a favorite spot that they try to reserve in January for the coming year. Good food, laughter, and fun stories are often shared around the campfire and great memories are made for all.

The porcupines of Ludington State Park had eluded our cameras for months. On this particular day, after scouting for a spot to set up a portable blind and shoot some wood ducks (with my camera), I made up my mind to spend the rest of the day on the trails looking up in the trees as much as possible. Several hours and one sore neck later, I spotted this porcupine. The porcupine wisely stood perfectly still and blended its body into the tree trunk and branch as well as it could. The telephoto lens revealed to me that the beautiful creature was aware of my presence. Its only body movement during the time it took to make a portrait was the occasional opening or closing of its eyes.

Over time man has designed and built many beautiful things-the Colosseum in Rome, the Statue of Liberty, and the 1965 Ford Mustang just to name a few. They are each a perfect blending of beautiful lines and powerful angles. However, none of them compare to one of God's most beautiful creations of all time, the bald eagle.

Often times while I am photographing an extraordinary light show, I ponder what our human ancestors must have felt when they witnessed similar sights thousands of years ago. On December 14, 2006, as I stood on a dune inside the Ludington State Park and photographed the Aurora Borealis and an incredible meteor shower, I was overcome by a rush of emotions. The light show was so intense that it evoked a sense of fear in me. I knew nothing horrible was actually happening, but the sky was so turbulent that it still made me feel a bit uneasy. I imagine that our ancestors might have felt true fear because they didn't have the knowledge of modern science to explain what they were seeing.

Standing on top of Desperation Point looking over Hamlin Lake, I was awestruck by the calm that surrounded me on this warm summer morning. The water was a mirror of tiny ripples, the wind was gently blowing, and the birds were just starting to sing. Just after making this photograph, I watched a bald eagle fly below me and dip into Hamlin Lake to catch a fish in its mighty talons. This is a morning I will never forget.

Determined to safeguard their offspring, a pair of proud-looking Canada geese share the watch while their tiny gosling peers out from beneath its mother's chest. I love exploring Ludington State Park in the springtime, looking for scenes like this one of the natural world coming alive with new life. I made this image from a respectful distance with a large telephoto lens, then moved on to seek other discoveries.