Last night, I had an adventure that started as an ordinary photography outing with my friend Michele at Dead Horse Ranch State Park. We were on a mission to capture the elusive Atlas Comet. The night was clear, and the lights of Jerome twinkled on the distant mountainside like little stars themselves. It was the perfect backdrop for a rare astronomical event.
Michele spotted the comet first, a faint glowing dot in the sky, and handed me the binoculars with precise directions on how to find it. With her help, I found it quickly, and my excitement mounted. I grabbed my camera and snapped a shot. There it was—got it! But then I had a better idea: a panoramic view that would stretch from the shimmering lights of Jerome up to the comet. It felt like the perfect way to capture the beauty of the night.
With steady hands, I slid my camera across the scene in five shots, creating a sweeping view that felt as grand as the moment itself. I was thrilled. Afterward, I packed up my gear and told Michele I was heading to the car to review the shots.
The first image I pulled up was stunning—there was the Atlas Comet, clear and radiant. But when I flipped through my panoramic series, something unexpected caught my eye. There, in the middle of the sequence, was a strange object in the sky. It didn’t look like the comet at all.
I zoomed in closer, and my heart skipped a beat. I had no idea what I was looking at. A bird? A drone? Something else entirely? What had I just photographed? It seems I left with more questions than I came with—Atlas Comet, check. Mysterious flying object, well, that’s another story!
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