I had an opportunity to contribute an illustration to Dana Nuccitelli's blog at The Guardian: Climate Concensus - The 97%. Below is a variation of the illustration used, but without the typo.

 

The illustration in a larger form (also without the known typo) is available from the Climate Graphics section of the Skeptical Science website. I expect to be doing variations of this illustration, as the notion of a consensus is still provocative among those unwilling to face the implications form climate studies. The existence of a consensus, what it is based on, and how that message has been derailed will have to stated and restated if humanity is to unite in time to avert unprecedented rates of global change.

 

jg

 



Meteors and Mistakes

I believe it has been ten years since I first started making public presentations on behalf of my astronomy club. My first presentation was at a Lake Skinner star party. The event coordinator, their park interpretor, asked for presentation, so I cobbled together 40 slides that I had taken and made a show. After the show, a family approached me and said their son would like to think me. I looked down, and their 3-4 year old son hugged my leg. Presentations would become one of the worth while activities I'll do.

I recall another great act of gratitude when a child approached me after a show and gave me a quarter. First he said, "here's a nickel" and put it in my hand. Not looking at it, I said, "yes it is". Then he said, "no, I mean, it's a quarter". I looked more carefully and corrected myself. "Yes. A quarter." Then the boy said, "It's for you. Thanks for the show." I accepted graciously. One doesn't turn down a gift or reject a gesture of thanks. At the time, this was the most I'd ever been paid for show, and my friends assured me that I was probably worth every penny.

My one regret in shows is that I don't have an opportunity to correct my errors. I try to present my own photos so that I can show people honestly what I saw, though sometimes I'm mistaken as to what it was. Such was the case with a photo I took on slide film around ten years ago. I was tracking the asteroid Ceres, and on one of the nights, something passed through my field of view (click or double click to enlarge the image):

 

At the time, I thought that whatever caused the striek (a plane or satelite), I was impressed that it happened to intersect three stars, and I made this comment in a few presentations. Later, I realized my error: the plane or satellite also created the bright white star-like images on the film. Notice how evenly spaced and of similar brightness they are, and that two appear to have a dimmer companion at the same position.

 

With this lesson in mind, I dismissed a photo taken last month as a result of the same effect.

 



 

Faint erratic meteor, or blinking object?

 

Highlight of area containing meteor or blinking object

Here's a close up. Notice that the striek passes through several stars -- I was very suspicious.

Fortunately, I took more than one image. By switching the view between these last two images, I could see that the stars crossed by the meteor appear in the picture below taken a few minutes later:

It is a meteor!

jg

Two Scorpions in 10 hours

I recently had some time in the desert to watch scorpions. The first was expected: Scorpius, a favorite constellation of the summer sky. This time of year, Scorpius rises in a upright position. By midnight, you can see all but part of its tail.

 

 

The next morning I was blessed with the visitor that inspired this constellation:





Scorpion with size 12 shoe

 

This is the first scorpion I've ever seen. Online searches for "California Dune Scorpion" reveal a lot of photos showing a very similar creature.

A close up of my visitor whom I believe to be Smeringurus Mesaensis,

the California Dune Scorpion

Scorpion enthusiasts report this as a very fast moving scorpion, that is, quick to scurry away. They also describe it as a bit passive, more likely to hide than sting. This one was in no hurry. Instead, it kept a slow and steady march toward my car. I suspect that it took refuge under my vehicle and felt exposed when I pulled out of my campsite. It appeared to be trying to return to the vehicle's shade. I was able to get my photos and persuade it to choose a different direction, so that I could leave without worrying about driving over it.

Scorpius reinterpreted thanks to my campsite visitor

 

jg

Dark Horse of Midnight

Last weekend's star gazing at Palomar Observatory Campground had probably the darkest sky I've ever seen at this location. The reason? We were expecting a storm to move in on Sunday, and during Saturday night, the clouds covered the nearby cities for a few hours before covering the mountain top.

 

At 1:00 pm, looking south at the Milky Way, you could detect dustlanes that look like a horse standing above the back of Scorpius.  I've never seen this before.  Double-click the photos below to enlarge the image, if necessary. The horse is diagrammed in the third image along with Scorpius. 

 

 

A wide field, portrait view.

A crop of the above photo.

 

The horse drawn (pun intended)

 jg

 

Omega Centauri

From our position in the solar system, Omega Centauri is the brightest of the globular clusters, which are dense packs of gravitationally bound stars forming clusters that are billions of years old. Some theories suggest that globular clusters are remnants of galaxies that have been eaten by our own.

 

Omega Centauri is best seen from the Southern Hemisphere, but in May, obervers at low lattitudes of the Northern Hemisphere get a glimpse of it skirting the southern horizon. The following photos show Omega Centauri in a gap of trees on my southern horizon.

 

Omega Centauri emerging from one tree and going behind the next.

(80 seconds, F4, 400 ISO, 70 mm focal length)

 

 



After adjusting the camera (during which Omega Centauri moved noticably) I resumed tracking of the object through the gap in the trees. (120 second, F4, 400 ISO, 70mm focal length)

Last best exposure before I lost it in the trees. (120 second, F4, 400 ISO, 70mm focal length)

 

These photos were taken at 10:43, 10:53, and 10:56 PM, when Omega Centauri was due south. I highly recommend that anyone with a low southern horizon look for this object now with binoculars or a small telescope. In general, any object appears two hours earlier the following month, so this weekend, Omega Centauri, it should be due south at approximately 10:30 pm.

 

Find Omega Centauri's general region by using corvus (right in the image below) as a pointer. Depending on the clearance of your horizon, you may also see scorpius in an upright position (left).

 

The dotted line shows the path of Omega Centauri. Scorpius on the left and Corvus on the right can be used to find the general location.

 

jg

I contributed a cartoon to a recent post on Skeptical Science (Forks in the Road: Last Exit to Two Degrees):

The Road to Six Degrees

The illustration reflects a common view among climatologists that the longer society waits to cut greenhouse gas emissions, the harder it will be to avoid a warmer planet. The turns in this metaphor are last chances. Every year, humanity is committing itself to an ever warmer world.

I think we've missed the two degree turn, but that's a debatable question. It's a genuine topic of scientific debate as opposed to the false controversy perpetuated by some conservative media, politicians, business interests, and most important, the conservative media's loyal followers. While the false controversy asks "is the planet warming?" "is it natural?", climatologists are debating how much Earth will warm and how that will play out on a world of 9+ billion people who are highly dependent on our climate.

For perspective, the average temperature difference between the last global ice age and now is 6 degrees C. Humanity is on the road to 6 degrees C, but in the warmer direction, a level that has not been seen in over a million years, perhaps many more. Worse, the rate of global change may have no precedent in geological history, but this too, is a valid scientific debate.

I'm ready to jump out of the car.

jg

Too Busy to Read my Own Blog

Too busy to read my own blog is the best way to describe me in Spring when most of our local schools have their star parties and other astronomy-related events begin (e.g., Explore the Stars).

My astronomy club (TVA) has been sponsoring the astronomy clubs at two middle schools in Murrieta, as well as trying to get these schools to setup their 16-inch telescopes in observatories. The former task is simpler than the later, being done my fellow member Paul Kreitz and me. The second project is driven mainly my our club president Mark Baker, and involves more bureaucracy since new construction is involved.

Each year I try to develop a new show for these schools, and each year I dabble in more complex subjects. This year, however, I got back to basics. Since I didn't have time to develop a new topic, I just refined a few favorites and re-learned that for the most part, middle school students and their families don't need to see intellectual growth from me, but rather, would like a simple subject that they can sink their teeth into. These factors lead me to revisit constellations.

Never underestimate how much people enjoy knowing what constellations are passing overhead, especially if these constellations are well known and include animals and zodiac signs. These most common of constellations are routine to amateur astronomers, but a joy to the general public. Below are some constellations of the Spring sky (in early evening) that I've been sharing at this year's star parties:

Look low, low in the West:
Here's orion and Taurus, which are low in the western horizon and must be viewed just after sunset.

 

Here is how I see Taurus. I diverge from the standard portrayal of Taurus, which draws impossibly long and U-shaped horns, a feature I find to be cruel.

 

And here is Orion, the aggressor the hunter. I didn't draw the shield of Orion because I, in my own interpretation, consider the shield area to be in disputed territory between Orion and Taurus.

 

Ok. Here's the shield, in agreement of standard sky maps that have sided with Orion:

 

But, everytime I look at Taurus and try to trace the figure, I get this:

The shield, to me, is more convincing as the haunches of Taurus. Though this is how I see Taurus, please note that I've borrowed a piece of Orion, and my interpretation is in conflict with star maps. Use or post on the internet at your own risk.

 

Here's a wider field of Orion and Taurus taken from backyard. That's my chimney you see.

 

Taurus:

 

Orion, the Aggressor:

And Orion's faithful hunting dog (Canis Major), safely guarding the rear, like most family dogs I know would:

 

 

Now Look Overhead, slightly to the south.

 

Another animal shape sits high in the Spring sky and is often considered the centerpiece of spring for its abundance of galaxies.

 

It's Leo, the Lion:

 

Leo is most easily found by it's sickle shape, a reverse question mark:

 

 Here are the main brightstars of the lion:

And here is the lion in it's Sphinx-like pose:

 

I see a lion in profile; official star maps may differ

 

 

And Now Look East.

 



The dominant constellation in the east is the Big Dipper, which is readily recognized by most people.

 

That was the easy part. But Ursa Major means "Big Bear", so where is the bear?

 

On a clear night, if you can ignore the stars of the handle and the bowl, the remaining stars make a remarkable bear shape:

 

But what about the tail? Forget the tail. Some Native American legends refer to the handle stars as hunters chasing the bear. They chase the bear around and around the north pole. It can go on for centuries till someone redraws the constellation.

 

 

The dipper does offer a useful metaphor:

 

In Spring, the dipper is tilted upword as shown in these photos and rotates into an upside-down position. What happens to water in an upside-down dipper? This represents the spring rains that are typical of most of the northern hemisphere (but not the Southwestern United States, where I live):

 

Those of you enjoying the Midwest's unusual May snowfall can pretend the water drops are snowflakes.

 

Of course, the big dipper is not complete without it's north star guidance system:

 

Though Polaris, circled in thie above image, is the north star, it is off of true north by a little bit. I think my circle's center point is a little closer to true north. 

 

 

Out of fairness, a look at the big dipper should include a look at the little dipper, or Ursa Minor, the Little Bear:

 

Which really doesn't look much like a bear, or a dipper.

 

Actually, it looks as much like a bear as any other random area of sky on a dark night.

 

In the really dark nights, the bright stars of constellations get overwhelmed by the abundance of fainter stars. This can be confusing and liberating. Confusing in that it's a little harder to find the familiar constellations; liberating, in that you have more dots to connect to follow anything you see in your imagination. 

 

jg