One crisp autumn night on October 8th, 2011, my wife and I found ourselves captivated by an extraordinary sight above the 1000 Islands near Gananoque, Ontario. We had been spending the night on one of the islands, gazing up at a star-studded sky, our eyes fixed northward. The air was clear, perfect for stargazing, but what we witnessed defied every conventional explanation.
It began when my wife called me outside shortly after I had stepped indoors. There, silently slicing across the heavens from east to west, was a brilliant orange sphere. Brighter and larger than the North Star, it moved steadily at a speed slower than a satellite yet faster than any passenger jet we’d seen in this tranquil area. Its glow was surrounded by a faint haze, an aura that seemed to shimmer around its edges.
Then, as if summoned by an unspoken command, two more spheres appeared, each flanking the original, followed soon by another pair and finally a sixth trailing at the rear—forming a perfect pentangle shape moving in seamless formation. They moved together without a sound, without a flicker of light to suggest conventional aircraft.
This sighting deeply unnerved us. Unlike the loud fighter jets occasionally observed from the American airbase to the south, these spheres emitted no noise, and their perfectly round forms possessed a mysterious blur at their eastern rear ends. They vanished beyond our line of sight after about 30 seconds, leaving a silence and a baffling mystery hanging in the night air.
This encounter remains one of the most unsettling and fascinating phenomena we’ve ever witnessed—an enigmatic spectacle that fuels endless speculation yet escapes any clear explanation.