On a clear April evening in 2017, around 9:45 pm, I found myself gazing eastward from Cobourg, Ontario, captivated by a strange cosmic spectacle unfolding above. Two distinct lights, reminiscent at first glance of satellites, caught my eye. They traveled southward in perfect tandem, one trailing closely behind the other, positioned about 45 degrees above the horizon. Their distance reminded me of the gap between Mizar and Alioth in the Big Dipper, which, intriguingly, hovered directly above these wandering lights.
The eerie silence accompanying this display was profound — no hum, no buzz, only the cool calm of the night air. Minutes later, these twin lights performed an unexpected reversal. They retraced their path northward together, still perfectly synchronized, though seemingly more spaced apart than before.
Through my binoculars, I followed them with focused intensity. Gradually, their paths diverged: one continued steadfastly due north while the other veered northeast, before both vanished from sight, swallowed by the vast darkness.
This was not my first encounter with such phenomena in Cobourg. Years before, in 2011, I had witnessed a trio of lights in a sharp V-formation swiftly racing westward across the sky — a high-velocity passageway etched into night.
As a recording engineer with a background in printing and publishing, I’m drawn to details, a witness attuned to patterns and narratives. The mysterious aerial choreography of these inexplicable lights, their precise movements and haunting silence, left an indelible impression. What they were, or where they came from, remains an enigma — but their presence altered the way I perceive the night sky forever.