In all likelihood, this is probably the most famous photograph that I’ll ever take….

I just went to photograph waterfalls.

I don't consider myself a birder, and I had no way of knowing that a jaunt over to the Clatsop County coast would yield a photo that would ricochet around the Internet, generating international media attention and a record of a new bird species for the state of Oregon.

On March 30, 2024, I purchased a Sony Alpha 6700 camera. It was my Spring Break (I’m a middle school teacher), and I wanted to spend the whole week learning how to use my new toy.

Fast forward about three weeks and countless hours of YouTube instructional videos and online forums. During that time, I’d taken trips to the Vancouver, Washington, waterfront; the Portland Farmer’s Market; Seattle’s Pike Place Market; and a few other spots to practice my new hobby.

I was headed to Cannon Beach for a long weekend, and I couldn’t be more thrilled at what was ahead of me: stunning sunrises and sunsets, Haystack Rock, puffins, and beautiful oceanscapes.

A few days before I left, in a Pacific Northwest photography forum, I happened to ask if there’s anything else I should photograph during my stay. A woman suggested that I visit nearby Hug Point, because there was a seasonal waterfall that was worth a look. I put that on the list, and then hit the road to Cannon Beach.

It was a wonderful couple of days of photography. I’m really proud of what I was able to capture, even to this day. I went to Hug Point in the late afternoon on my second day there. Unfortunately, there were several people enjoying the waterfalls, so I wasn’t able to get a good shot. I told myself I would go the next morning at sunrise, when I was sure to be the only one there.

I almost didn’t make it there that morning. I had been waking up early to capture the sunrise, and staying up late photographing well into the evening after sunset, and I was exhausted. But somehow, I managed to get myself out of bed that morning of April 21 and drive the 10 or so minutes to Hug Point.

When I got there, the dawn’s early light was enough for me to see where I was going, but the sun wasn’t out by any means, and it could hardly be considered “bright” outside. I got to the waterfall and took several pictures at different angles and shutter speeds. When I was satisfied with what I had captured, I thought about what else I could photograph. I was familiar with the nearby sea stacks from my visit the day before, and I figured I’d shoot some of them before I headed back.

The moment I turned around, I saw a little black bird on the sand some distance away. It just sat there quietly looking at me. It was a cute bird, and I thought I’d see if I could snap a few good shots of it before it flew away.

Of course, I wasn’t satisfied with just taking a normal snapshot. I wanted to use all the fancy composition tricks that I had learned in the previous weeks. After a few initial test shots, I crouched low to the ground and used the rock that was in front of me to help add depth to my photo. I adjusted my camera settings so as to achieve a nice “bokeh,” which is the fancy word for the blurred background you see in various genres of photography, including portraiture and wildlife photography. Even though I figured this was just some run-of-the-mill bird, I was determined to take as artful a photo as I could with all my three weeks of experience.

At the time, I remember that I was surprised that the bird was so cooperative. It just sat there while I fiddled with my camera settings and found different angles to shoot it from. After a minute, it flew up to a nearby rock face and perched there for a while longer as I snapped a few more shots. The metadata of my photographs reveal that the entire encounter lasted about two minutes. When it finally flew away, I thought nothing more of it. I walked around Hug Point for another half hour or so, then went back to my motel.

Later that day as I was processing my photos, I got to the series that I took of the “little black bird.” I raised the exposure of the photograph to make it brighter, and I immediately saw that it wasn’t black at all. Instead, it was a rich cobalt blue, with a warm burnt-orange belly. Although I’m not a birder, I do pay attention to birds as I’m out and about. I’d never seen a bird with those colors around here. My first thought was that it was some special kind of coastal bird, and that since I don’t live on the coast, I wouldn’t be familiar with it.

I posted the picture to social media, asking for help identifying the bird. A friend of mine, Marybeth Sanford, passed my image along to a friend of hers, Alan Contreras. Marybeth messaged me and said that Alan wanted some information about the circumstances under which I photographed the bird. I was confused as to why anyone would want to talk to me about some random bird, but when Alan got in touch with me, he quickly impressed upon me how shocking it was to see a Blue Rock Thrush in our part of the world. Immediately I was put in touch with folks from the Oregon Bird Records Committee , who were eager to hear details about this extraordinary find.

After that, the media frenzy started. First it was KOIN based here in Portland. I thought that it was so cool that local news picked up on this, and that after this, things would return to normal. The media, however, had other plans for me.

Soon after KOIN broke the story, the director of photography and media at the Eugene Register-Guard reached out to me (he also happens to be a birder!) and the paper ran a front-page story on my photograph. Then USA Today called. Then I started hearing from other national news organizations and publications like Smithsonian Magazine, The Weather Channel, PetaPixel (a photography magazine), Fox News, The National Desk, and others. I officially made international news when The Guardian and The Times of London ran articles. Dozens of news aggregators picked up on the story, as well. The photograph even became a meme that circulated the Portland area for a little bit. On the local television circuit, I made it onto KGW Channel 8 and KATU Channel 2’s AM Northwest. Then as a wonderful bookend to this whole experience, a producer from ABC’s World News Tonight with David Muir contacted me, and I appeared on the May 2, 2024, edition of that news program.

At the time of this writing, there are two citations in Wikipedia’s entry for "Blue Rock Thrush" that lead to articles about my encounter.

This has been a wild, wild ride. I’ve learned so much about the birding community, especially when it comes to their kindness: I’ve felt welcomed and accepted from the very first day this caught their attention.

Reflecting back on my experience, I feel such gratitude and fondness. It probably doesn’t come as a shock that the photo of the beautiful bird is the wallpaper for my phone and desktop computer.

I look at the photo often. I mean, I really look at it. I’m in awe of the dignity that this tiny creature shows, not to mention the strength and determination it required to get here, however that may have happened. It’s so far from home, and likely will never see or hear the song of its kin ever again. As I look at that photograph, I find myself wondering: What’s it doing now? How does the local cuisine of insects and berries taste? How do the songs of other birds sound to it? Has it made friends?

This Blue Rock Thrush will never know how much its presence excited and delighted the nation and the world. I hope that whatever it’s doing, it has found the Pacific Northwest a hospitable home away from home with miles of beaches, stunning sunsets, lush forests, charming waterfalls, and countless people eagerly awaiting an encore appearance from the little bird so far from home.