The Gloucester Area Astronomy Club

Morello's outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? 

Robert Browning, Andrea del Sarto, 1855.

Decades ago during the fall of a year that I recall might have been 1972, I attended Yom Kippur services at our family synagogue in Montreal, Congregation Shaar Hashomayim. The Congregation had instituted a new feature that year, a Yom Kippur Teach-in. I decided to give it a try. The topics were completely open that year, and the audience applauded every comment. I was a trifle nervous about saying anything, but I stood up and made a comment about God, and how our concepts of God are as
different as each of us might be. I ended my comment with these two lines from Robert Browning’s famous Andrea del Sarto:

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? 

My comment did get a smattering of applause. Afterward my life went on, and on, until a few days ago, when writing a book featuring poetry about the night sky, I chanced upon Browning’s poem again.

This Browning poem is surely one of his most famous and insightful. The poet suggests that Mount Morello, in Italy near Florence, is “wrongly traced.” He then supposes that the mountain itself, if it has consciousness, wouldn’t care if its outline was correct or not: “what does the mountain care?” In the final two lines of this section the poet transcends geographically from Morello to infinity, from earthly cares to the outermost reaches of space and time”-- “Or what’s a heaven for?”

It is not often that someone can compare the reading of a great and fabulous poem with a sporting event, but here I try :

I like to compare these lines of “Andrea del Sarto” with watching a baseball game. In my experience a typical baseball game consists of lengthy stretches of strike-outs, some walks, breaks between innings, and other trivia.

But these breaks are interspersed with exciting base hits, doubles, triples, and home runs. These events often happen without warning, and a large crowd in the stands can be electrified instantaneously, rising to its feet as the ball heads off the field, into the stands. It does seem odd to compare a work of English Literature to a baseball game, but in this case, it works, offering us yet another way to enjoy the night sky.

Writing about ball games, I have missed a football game to see a deep partial eclipse of the Moon.

Observer’s Challenge – September, 2024 by Glenn Chaple

NGC 6822 – Barred Barred Irregular Galaxy in Sagittarius (Mag 9.3; Size 15.5” X 13.5’)

Last month’s Observer’s Challenge, the galaxy NGC 6703 in Lyra, escaped the eyes of both William Herschel and his son, John, primarily because of its relative faintness (magnitude 11.3) and small size (just 2.4 arc-minutes). Would a brighter and larger galaxy be easier to view? Ask anyone who has tried to catch a glimpse of this month’s Challenge, NGC 6822 (“Barnard’s Galaxy” in Sagittarius), and you’ll get a resounding “No!” See Mario Motta's image, below.

Barnard’s Galaxy is a full two magnitudes brighter than NGC 6703, but its light is spread out into an oval-shaped area that’s half the moon’s apparent diameter. And, yes, the Herschels missed this one as well. Barnard’s Galaxy bears the name of its discoverer, the American astronomer Edward Emerson Barnard. He spotted it with a small refracting telescope (sources disagree as to whether it was 5 or 6 inches in aperture) in 1884. And therein lies the secret to visually capturing this elusive galaxy – use small aperture and low magnification to encompass a field at least a degree across. In the early 1920s, Edwin Hubble noted that Barnard’s Galaxy was better viewed with low power in a 4-inch finderscope than with the primary focus of the 100-inch Mt. Wilson reflector! You can even see it with binoculars in areas where skies are exceptionally dark and transparent.

Barnard’s Galaxy is located at the 2000.0 coordinates RA 19h44m 56.6s and DEC -14o47’21”. Starhoppers can find their way using the accompanying chart, courtesy of www.skyledge.net. If, after an extensive effort, you’re unable to spot Barnard’s Galaxy, don’t leave the area! In the same low-power field, a little over a half-degree NNW at 2000.0 coordinates RA 19h43m 57.8s and DEC -14o09’12”, is the tiny (22 by 15 arc-second) planetary nebula NGC 6818. Under low magnifications, it may be mistaken for a 10th magnitude star. An eyepiece yielding 60X or more will reveal its fuzzy nature. Barnard’s Galaxy is classified as a dwarf barred irregular galaxy. At a distance of 1.5 million light-year, it has a diameter of around 700,000 light-years. It’s a member of the Local Group of galaxies that includes our Milky Way and the Andromeda Galaxy.

David Levy's Skyward for August 2024

Area 377

By David H. Levy

For the first time in this series of articles, I am writing about the same subject, Comet Olbers, twice in a row.  This time I observed the comet using an unusual small telescope, a 4-inch reflector named Cole.  Joshua Cole is the central character in one of my Dad’s favorite childhood novels, Cole of Spyglass Mountain.  At the end of this beautiful story, Cole is informed that his discovery of life on Mars has been confirmed, and the book’s closing thought is this:  “First to Report Discovery:  Cole of Spyglass Mountain, famous in a night.”

On Sunday, evening, 7 July 2024, I joined my colleagues Tim Hunter and James McGaha at Tim’s Grasslands Observatory. While they prepared for an evening of astrophotography,  I set Cole up outside and began an hour of comet hunting in the northwest.  At first the comet seemed elusive.  But as I searched I noticed a familiar 10-square degree patch of sky.  This was area 377, and right away it brought me back to my teenage years, when I began observing with friends at the Montreal Centre of the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada.    Among their many observing programs was an organized comet and nova search.  The sky was divided into 438 discrete areas, and I was assigned two:  Area 40, which included Vega and its constellation of Lyra, and 377, south of the Big Dipper’s bowl.   For years I faithfully checked these areas until the program, like some of the comets it never found, faded away more than half a century ago.  

Tonight was different. By sighting along some of the star patterns in area 377 I found a spot.  Slowly I moved Cole through this region of stars.  And then, just like that!  There it was, Comet Olbers, a little east of Area 377, brighter than it was last month, and sporting a nice 1-degree long tail.  Tim and James were able to spot it using Cole, and later through binoculars.  

Comets mark the passage of our lives.  My great-grandson Beau will be nearing the middle of his life when Halley returns, and his grandchildren may pause to take a look at Olbers’s comet when it next visits at the end of this century.  But whether they see these celestial apparitions or not, may they at least have the will to pause in their lives, and reflect upon the great cosmic clock that chimes not on the hour but at any minute when something new, different, and mesmerizing pays a visit to the planet that is our home.

Pons-Brooks:  A comet for the centuries.

When David Rossetter and I began our observing session at the Tucson Amateur Astronomy Association’s  Chiricuaha Astronomy Complex on the evening of August 5, 2023,  we did not expect that  we would be treated to an evening of cosmic history.  That was the night we glimpsed Comet Pons-Brooks, a comet with an orbit that, like Halley’s comet, takes almost a human lifetime to orbit the Sun  .I might have spotted it the night before, but on this night David and I saw the same thing, a spot of haze in the darkness.  It was a faint misty cloud that bears the names of two of the most famous comet discoverers in all history, a spot of haze with quite a story to tell.

Comet Pons-Brooks was first identified by Jean-Louis Pons, the great French comet hunter, during the summer of 1812. In the late summer of  1883, on its subsequent pass around the Sun, it was rediscovered by another famous comet hunter, William Robert Brooks. I first encountered Brooks in a Sky & Telescope article I read in the second issue I received, at age 14, in April 1963.  As I digested the story, I learned how Brooks might have politely entertained a visitor to his observatory, and how that visitor eventually learned that Brooks was one of the world's most famous comet discoverers. As I relished these words, I foresaw myself, some day, also as a hunter of comets.  Not a discoverer, because that would be hard.  But as a hunter, that's easy. Those ideas stayed with me until December 17, 1965, when I began my program of searching for comets. Since then, my own life has been punctuated by several sparks of cometary light, as each new comet added brightness to the field of my telescope. I joined a group of people linked not by nation, nor either by continent, but by being citizens of the world united by a love of comets.

Emboldened by the offer by Hulbert Harrington Warner of an award of $200 for each comet discovered, Brooks managed to find three comets within five weeks of each other, on April 17,  April 30, and May 22 , 1886.   He must have known how his colleague Edward Emerson Barnard built his “comet house” partly out of funds also earned from Warner’s award.  (The Warner prize has survived through history.  The Astronomical Society of the Pacific offered its “Donohoe Comet Medal”  for a time, and later Roger Tuthill gave a plaque, and now there exists the Edgar Wilson Award, which is sponsored by the Central Bureau for Astronomical Telegrams [CBAT] of the International Astronomical Union.)

Like all serious comet hunters, Brooks was far more interested in discovering comets than in the money he could earn from these finds.  In later years his success as a a comet hunter earned him a professorship in astronomy at Hobart College in Geneva, New York.  With Brian Marsden’s 1979 Catalogue of Comet Orbits as a guide, we can surmise that Brooks discovered a minimum of 22 comets in his lifetime.

Despite this remarkable accomplishment, Brooks is only the second most prolific comet finder in world history,  The winning ticket goes to Jean-Louis Pons himself, who was “the first “discoverer” of Comet Pons-Brooks.  Truly, Pons was also not the first.  This comet might have been observed by Chinese astronomers in the late summer of 245 CE, then definitely by the Chinese in 1385, and in 1457 by Paolo del Pozzo Toscanelli.   Pons today is considered to have discovered about thirty comets.    Over the decades I observed a second Pons periodic comet, Pons-Gambart, in January 2013.   By the way, Pons had a most humble and trusting nature, and in his younger years he was ridiculed by astronomers who should have known better.

These days,  it is almost impossible for an individual to discover more than half a dozen comets.  My total is 23, but as CBAT director Dan Green (possibly correctly) stated, “he discovered 9 comets and lucked out on 11 more,” before graciously adding Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 to my total.

Pons and Brooks shared a passion for telescopes and the fleeting comets they could detect parading about the sky.  I like to imagine that finding new comets was secondary to their pure enjoyment of the night sky, its treasures, and the secrets that it infrequently shared with those people who truly lived, and live, for its precious hours of darkness.

Image credit: H.C. Wilson, E.E. Barnard

Skyward, April 2022

Omicron!

        Over the last few months you must have read dozens of articles, online or in print, about the Omicron variant of COVID-19.  Fortunately, this is not one of them. This article is about Omicron² Eridani. It is a faint star in the constellation of Eridanus, the River.

        Actually, there are two Omicron stars in that constellation.  The first is brighter, and is a variable star.  The second one is one of the closest stars to the Sun. Omicron², also known as 40 Eridani, happens to be not a disease but one of the most interesting star systems in the entire sky.

Omicron² is a triple star system that is only about 16 light years away.  Its brightest component is a Sun-like star faintly visible to the unaided eye on a good night. It lies in northern Eridanus, the River, just a few degrees west of Rigel at the foot of Orion.  The secondary is a white dwarf star.  Unlike the companion of Sirius,  this star is 9^th magnitude and not near the brighter star so it is easy to see in a small telescope.   The third star is not far from the secondary, but at 11^th magnitude it is also not difficult to spot.  This third star is a red dwarf.

       Although red dwarf stars are the most plentiful, by far, in our region of the Milky Way galaxy, they are almost impossible to see because they are so small.  The closest one to us is Proxima Centauri, or Alpha Centauri C, which at 4.24 light years is the closest star to the Sun.    Also because they are so small and intrinsically faint, only a few of them are easy to find.  40 Eridani C is one of the easiest to find.

       This interesting star has something else going for it.  In 2018 astronomers discovered a planet orbiting the primary star.  With a rapid orbit around Omicron², such a planet would receive much more radiation from the primary star than Earth gets from the Sun.  But in 2021 new observations cast doubt on whether this planet exists at all.

        Whether Omicron² Eridani really hosts a planet is subject to debate.  But in the universe of Star Trek, it surely does.  It is the home of Vulcan, Mr. Spock’s home world. In the episode “Operation Annihilate”, which appears near the end of the first season, Spock is blinded by the intense light used to immobilize the invading parasites on the planet Deneva.  However his blindness is temporary because of the existence of an inner eyelid.    Vulcan is said to orbit Omicron² Eridani’s primary star, and since it is so much  brighter than our Sun,  even though Vulcan is at the same distance that Earth is from our Sun, they need the inner eyelid to protect their eyes.

       I rather enjoy the idea that the fictitious Vulcan happens to orbit one of my favorite real stars.  And unlike the Omicron variant, which one hopes will be eradicated soon, we admire Omicron² Eridani, the real star, and wish it to ”Live long and prosper.”

by Glenn Chaple

M42– Emission Nebula in Orion (Magnitude 3.6, Size 70’x60’)
M43 – Emission Nebula in Orion (Magnitude 9.0, Size 20’x15’)

This month’s Observer’s Challenge is (drum roll) M42/M43, the Orion Nebula! You might ask why a deep-sky object that’s easy to find (it’s in the Sword of Orion) and see (it’s bright enough to be viewed with binoculars) would be considered a challenge.

Let’s begin with M42, the brighter of the two. It was discovered in 1610 by the French astronomer Nicolas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc and cataloged by Charles Messier on March 4, 1769. Binoculars and small-aperture telescopes will reveal the bright northeast part of M42, which resembles the outspread wings of a celestial eagle. One challenge is to visually capture the nebula’s faint southerly region. Because M42 spans 85’ by 60’, you’ll want to work with a low-power, wide-field eyepiece. A second visual challenge is to detect M42’s greenish hue. I’ve seen it with a 13.1-inch f/4.5 scope, but not with a 4.5-inch. What is the smallest aperture that will reveal this subtle hue? Find out, and forward your result to Challenge coordinator Roger Ivester.

Fainter and thus overshadowed by M42, M43 eluded detection until reported by Jean-Jacques Dortous de Mairan in 1731. Messier entered it in his catalog on the same date as M42. It is separated from M42 by a dark, dusty lane and surrounds the irregular variable star NU Orionis (magnitude range 6.5 to 7.6). The nebula’s published magnitude of 9.0 might be on the low side, as I’ve seen M43 with a 60mm refractor. Admittedly, it was small and faint, and only visible when I ramped up the magnification to 140X to remove M42 from the field of view. What I saw was a roundish haze surrounding NU Orionis. In larger instruments, M43 will take on a comma shape.

Looking for another challenge? At the heart of M42 is theta-1 (θ1) Orionis, a stunningly beautiful multiple star birthed from the surrounding nebulosity. The four brightest members, all hot and massive O- and B-type stars, form a lop-sided diamond known as the Trapezium.

Labeled A to D in order of increasing right ascension, they shine at magnitudes 6.7, 7.9, 5.1, and 6.7, respectively. A and B are eclipsing binaries- the former, bearing the variable star designation V1016 Orionis, fading to magnitude 7.5 every 65.4 days, the latter (BM Orionis) dipping to 8.5 every 6.5 days. Galileo discovered the three brightest members (A, C, and D) in 1617. The fourth (B), was discovered by the French astronomer Jean Picard in 1673. It can be difficult in a small-aperture scope, especially at the low magnification needed to view the entire Orion Nebula. If seeing conditions allow for a magnification of 200X or more, a 6-inch telescope will reveal two more stars – E (magnitude 10.3) and F (magnitude 10.2). Four other members, G, the tight double H1 and H2, and I, are extremely faint at magnitudes 14.5 to 15.5 and require large scopes and optimum seeing conditions. These are a true challenge!

Oh yeah- here’s a final challenge. See if you can view the Orion Nebula, its gaseous wreaths embracing a diamond-like clutch of newborn stars, and not feel a sense of awe and wonder. The Orion Nebula lies some 1350 light-years away. Cosmically young, it is just 2 or 3 million years old. The stars in the Trapezium are even younger, perhaps no older than 300,000 years. M42 and M43 have linear diameters 23 and 7.5 light-years, respectively, while the brightest stars in the Trapezium span a distance of about 1.5 light-years. 

The purpose of the Observer’s Challenge is to encourage the pursuit of visual observing. It is open to anyone who is interested. If you’d like to contribute notes, drawings, or photographs, we’d be happy to include them in our monthly summary. Submit your observing notes, sketches, and/or images to Roger Ivester (rogerivester@me.com). To find out more about the Observer’s Challenge, log on to http://rogerivester.com/category/observers-challenge-reports-complete.

[Photographs by Mario Motta]

Imagination and the Astronomical League.

“A Dragon Lives forever, but not so girls and boys.”

Three quarters of a century ago, during the Second World War, the famous Harvard astronomer Harlow Shapley, along with Charles Federer, founding editor of Sky and Telescope Magazine, launched an association of astronomy clubs across the United States.  It is called the Astronomical League, and it thrives to this day with more than 100 astronomy clubs.  Unlike the national Royal Astronomical Society of Canada, the League is designed to be a more loosely structured organization.  According to Carroll Lorg, its current president, one of its most critical and central goals is to inspire the next generation to enjoy the night sky. If that goal should fail, the possibility exists that there may be no Astronomy for future generations.

As part of this vital goal, the Junior Astronomical League, a new subset of the Astronomical League, is now meeting every second Sunday over zoom.  But there is something more.  My next book will be devoted to those young stargazers.  It actually began as a typewritten saga I wrote in 1958 when I was ten years old, and of all the 40 plus books I have written, this is Wendee’s favorite.   I am now completing a second edition of this book, in which a small group of children go on a stargazing adventure with Clipper, a magic beagle, and with Eureka, an enchanted reflector telescope.  They go past the Moon and planets, the stars, the distant superclusters of galaxies, and even the great voids in distant empty space.

In its final chapter, this book explores the theme articulated in the last verse of Peter, Paul, and Mary’s eminent song “Puff.”   ”A dragon lives forever, but not so girls and boys.”  The children, now grown, go to university.  When they complete their college education, the young woman, adept at math and physics, becomes an astronomer, but the young man goes on to become a lawyer.  He marries, has children who are now grown themselves, and unhappily gets a divorce.  To recover he decides to take a vacation trip to Arizona. Driving his rented car one evening, he pulls off the road, gets out of his car, and looks at the stars. As childhood memories flood back, a second car pulls off.  The young woman astronomer gets out of her car.  The two cannot believe they are reuniting, and they catch up for hours.  Then there is a break in their conversation.  As the couple looks up silently at the stars, the magic beagle, and the telescope, appear and take shape.  In that one ultimate celestial adventure, the  magic of the night has returned.

by Glenn Chaple

NGC 1501 – Planetary Nebula in Camelopardalis  (Magnitude 11.5, Size 52”)

            There are two major reasons why this month’s Observer’s Challenge, the planetary nebula NGC 1501, is largely unobserved. First of all, it’s located in the extremely faint circumpolar constellation Camelopardalis. Star-hoppers will have a rough time navigating around a constellation that lacks stars brighter than 4th magnitude. A second reason has to do with its published magnitude- 13.0 in a number of web sources and observing handbooks. That’s faint enough to scare away anyone observing with a small-aperture scope! But 13.0 is its photographic magnitude. Its visual magnitude is a more accomodating 11.5.

Although NGC 1501 can be viewed with small-aperture scopes under dark-sky conditions, its mottled appearance requires larger instruments. The 14.5-magnitude central star will challenge an 8-inch telescope. Embedded in the surrounding nebulosity like a pearl in a shell, it gives NGC 1501 its nick-name, the Oyster Nebula.

If you own a GoTo scope, you can get to the Oyster by punching in its 2000.0 celestial coordinates: RA 04h 06m 59.4s, DEC +60° 55’ 14.4”. Star-hoppers can begin at nearby Kemble’s Cascade- a remarkable asterism consisting of a 2½ degree-long near-straight chain of some 20 magnitude 7 to 10 stars punctuated near the middle by a 5th magnitude star.

To find the Cascade, make a low-power (25-30X) search of the area marked by a line drawn from beta (β) to epsilon (ε) Cassiopeiae and extended an equal distance beyond (refer to finder Chart A). Once you’ve found it, keep the low power eyepiece in place and take a moment to admire this stunning stellar arrangement. At its southernmost end, you’ll spot a tiny sprinkling of stars. This is the open cluster NGC 1502. A switch to a higher magnification (60-75X will reveal several dozen stars of 9th magnitude and fainter surrounding a pretty double star (Struve 485, magnitudes 6.9 and 6.9, separation 18 arc-seconds).

If you had gone directly to NGC 1502 via GoTo technology, you would have missed an amazing asterism, a neat little star cluster, and an attractive double star. Your final leg of the star-hop takes you 1.4 degrees south of NGC 1502 (refer to Chart B). Once the Oyster comes into view, you’ll want to switch to the highest magnification your telescope and the seeing conditions will allow.

My first encounter with NGC 1501 was via a 3-inch f/10 reflector (Edmund Scientific’s Space Conqueror) on the evening of February 2, 1986. According to the notes I wrote in my logbook it was “very faint, but definitely seen. Visible at 60X.” A sketch made with 120X shows the roundish form I saw. I was surprised to see this planetary at all, as my source gave a magnitude of 13.3, and I estimated it to be more like 11.0.

NGC 1501 was discovered by William Herschel on August 27, 1787. Its estimated distance is around 5000 light years, which translates to an actual dimension of 1.3 light years.         

The purpose of the Observer’s Challenge is to encourage the pursuit of visual observing. It is open to anyone who is interested. If you’d like to contribute notes, drawings, or photographs, we’d be happy to include them in our monthly summary. Submit your observing notes, sketches, and/or images to Roger Ivester (rogerivester@me.com). To find out more about the Observer’s Challenge, log on to rogerivester.com/category/observers-challenge-reports-complete,