They decided amongst themselves that this meant that during the summer, Sirius was adding its heat to the sun and hiking up the thermometer. Sirius which meant scorching, is in Canis Major (Big Dog) – so it was nicknamed the Dog Star and the last days of summer became known as the Dog Days.

The ancients believed the heat spike made men sluggish and wine sour and caused animals to go mad. Some leading citizens went so far, for crying out loud, to sacrifice a dog at the beginning of the season to try to distract the demon Sirius.

Though all the foolishness about appeasing the gods died down through time, the term, Dog Days of Summer, persists. Goes to show you can’t beat a good slogan. Nowadays we have more civilized ways of coping. Say, a Sunday afternoon on the porch with a tumbler full of ice, malt liquor and lime. And our dogs, well — you be the judge.

Image by Greg Mankiss

Image via Wikipedia

Dust rose
into the air as the elephant shuffled along,

With every
step she sang a traditional song,

A song she’d
heard long ago as an elephant child,

A song she
hadn’t thought about in quite awhile,

“As I travel
on my way I’ll chant every word,

I’m too old
to stay with the elephant herd,

The Elephant
Graveyard will be my resting place,

No more
lions or crocodiles will I face,

Death is
close, I can feel it in my bones,

I must
remember the placement of the stones,

Thousands of
my ancestors have come this way,

I must join
them, perhaps this very day,”

A gruff
voice interrupted the elephant’s reverie,

“Where are
you going? You can walk with me,”

She had not
noticed the wild dog loping by her side,

He asked, “Do
you need a friend in whom you can confide?”

He’d heard
elephants go somewhere when they’re old or sick,

He was sly,
that wild dog, and he thought of a trick,

“I only want
to help you,” he said, “don’t get me wrong,

But didn’t I
just hear you chanting a song?”

He urged her, “Perhaps your destination you’d like to share,”

“If I told
you I’d have to stomp you,” she said with an angry stare,

He knew she
was old and he lost his sense of fear,

But he made
a mistake when he thought she couldn’t hear,

He mused
aloud, “I know why she’s walking here all alone,

If I follow
her, I could discover a lot of precious bones,

A veritable
treasure trove I might share with my pack,

They’d have
a lifetime supply, no bones would they lack,”

She listened
carefully as he made his evil plan,

He didn’t
care if it was the elephants’ sacred land,

By then she’d
heard enough from that greedy dog,

She hurled
him far, just like he was a tiny log,

Some say he
never returned, nor did he ever die,

Some say he
watches for bones way up in the sky,

They call
him Sirius, the dog that once took flight,

Sirius, the
Dog star, the brightest star at night.

Related articles

• WATCH: Severely Injured Elephant Receives Prosthetic Foot (huffingtonpost.com)
• Elephants Have Social Networks [Animals] (gawker.com)
• Extroverted Elephants Change Their Best Friends Over Time | Discoblog (blogs.discovermagazine.com)

Tahu Sirius? Bukan Sirius Black yang ada di Harry Potter. Ehm, ya, tapi tetap berhubungan sih. Well, when my cousin showed me “sirius”, saya langsung suka. He’s so beautiful. Okay, I mean this is not a guy or anyone. Sirius yang saya maksud adalah the brightest star sirius. Warnanya biru. Kalau kita melihatnya dengan mata telanjang, warna birunya sudah kelihatan, so bright.

Sirius adalah bintang berwarna putih biru terang. Dia berada di rasi bintang Canis Major. Memang ga sembarangan juga sih ya disebut bintang paling terang. Kalau malam-malam langit sedang cerah, dan banyak bintang, coba aja lihat bintang yang terlihat berwarna biru dan bersinar terang. Itu Sirius. Karena ada di rasi bintang anjing, Sirius memang disebut juga sebagai bintang anjing. Karena itu saya bilang ada hubungannya dengan Sirius Black, yang di cerita Harry Potter diwujudkan sebagai penyihir yang bisa berubah menjadi anjing, karena Sirius memang bintang anjing (bedanya kalau bintang aslinya warna biru ya bukan hitam, hehe).

Karena Sirius pula saya membuat nama blog ini syirabiru. Know what the meaning is? Dalam Alquran, bintang Sirius disebutkan dalam surat Al-Najm ayat 49. Tapi sebelumnya yang saya tahu lebih dulu adalah bahasa Arab Sirius, yaitu as-syi’ra (الشعرى). Karena itu saya ambil nama Sirius dalam bahasa Arab, tapi saya jadikan syira untuk jadi nama blog ini (cuma biar ga ada tanda pemisah), dan karena Sirius berwarna biru-selain karena saya suka biru-jadi deh syirabiru

Kata sirius berasal dari bahasa Yunani, seirios yang berarti “menyala-nyala” atau “amat panas”. Sirius juga disebut berbeda-beda dalam beberapa bahasa. Misalnya dalam bahasa Jepang disebut aoboshi (bintang biru), dalam bahasa Sansekerta disebut mrgavyadha (pemburu rusa).

Saya pernah menulis alasan kenapa saya suka menulis. Salah satunya adalah membuat saya tenang. Melihat bintang juga menjadi hal yang membuat saya tenang. Dan kecil.

When you lift your head and see that biggest sky, suddenly you feel so small.

Lets face it we’re pretty sick of winter, what with all the relapses this month.  But I’m never sick of the winter stars and constellations.  With Leo and the other spring constellations taking over the skies from overhead to the south, the winter constellations are about to set in the west at 10 p.m.  Orion’s rectangular torso is tipped to the right, his belt stars horizontal, 90 degrees from their rising orientation.  The same is true of Castor and Pollux higher up which rose vertically and will set horizontally.  The brightness and closeness of the stars here are a great contrast with the sparse numbers of stars visible overhead and to the south.  That’s because the Milky Way runs through the winter stars and crosses to the north part of the sky.

* Times are for the Traverse City/Interlochen area of Michigan.  They may be different for your location.

Addendum

Winter Stars Setting in Late April. Created using Stellarium.

ASKC

I found one of my expected shipments when I arrived home from work.  I ordered the Meade specific cable and serial adapter for the Autostar from a telescope/optics supplier.   I also found a large manila envelope from the Astronomical Society of Kansas City.  It included details about my new membership, upcoming meetings, local observation sites and other benefits and learning opportunities.  The next general meeting, open to the public, is a week from Saturday (April 23rd at 7:00 pm), held in room 111 of Royal Hall on the campus of UMKC, about a block west of 52nd Street and Rockhill Road.  A talk on Solar Astronomy entitled “Solar Observing Basics,” will be presented by Neta Apple.

My husband and I ate a quick easy supper of frozen pizza (yeah, so healthy, and we forgot to start off with a salad!).  The band started arriving, so I settled down in the great room to catchup on three days worth of missed Jeopardy! episodes.  Monday’s game, first round, included a tricky River City category that stung one contestant several times, since the first four of the five answers were ‘What is the Rhine?”  Other fun categories were Homer (Simpson)’s Odyssey, Ends in “SS” and Measure This! which included the clue “Contrary to its name, this signature cowboy accessory would actually hold about 96 ounces.”  Monday’s Double Jeopardy! round had some great categories, some of which I cleaned up on, including “EU” first, Blue Literature, Amendment Highlights and Ancient Egypt.  Final Jeopardy! round: Goegraphic Adjectives stumped me but all three contestants answered correctly.   Tuesday’s game had some tough first round clues in A Capital Idea? and the Autobahn Society.  Double Jeopardy! Round fun categories included Fictional Movie Bands and Men in Pink.  Final Jeopardy! Round: Baseball & The Presidency again stumped me and one contestant.

Midway through Wednesday’s game, I received my second call from my father, crooning about the moon.  I knew I had some work to finish remotely last night and some more DVR cleaning to accomplish, and I thought the forecast for last night included increasing cloud cover, so I declined his invitation to come join him in lunar observation.  Even though I had paused the replay of Jeopardy!, I didn’t really pay much attention to the first round, besides the categories Thinking Green and Virgin Berths.   I paid more attention to Double Jeopardy! round including the fun category Lost Texts from Ben Franklin, Picture “D”is and You’re So Colorful.  Yet another difficult Final Jeopardy! Round category: Nobel Peace Prize Winners, where all three contestants and myself could not guess the correct two Prime Ministers.

Backyard Astronomer's Guide

The band took a break from rehearsing and I decide to forgo working remotely.  I changed clothes, hopped in the car and phoned my dad.  I arrived at his house around half past eight o’clock, with a sky still showing after sunset glow and the moon diffused by some scattered thin clouds.  I had brought the box with my cable, the USB/Serial converter cable, and a couple of Astronomy books with me:  a small throw-it-in-your-purse Field Guide and a large lift-with-your-legs-not-your-back full-color Backyard Astronomer’s Guide, which I hadn’t even cracked open yet since I checked it out from the library a few days ago.

Rather than traipsing through his house, which appeared to have many bright lights on in the living room, dining room and perhaps the kitchen, I slipped through the east side gate and made my way cautiously past the thorny rose bushes to his backyard.  Even though last week was the ‘official’ Global Lunar Week, we gazed at the moon, watching the clouds pass quickly in front of it’s bright surface, still giving us ample detail to review.  I noted the quietness and ease of movement in the motors and looked forward to attempting an actual alignment, if the clouds cooperated.  Eventually, the northern celestial hemisphere cleared enough for us to dimly spy Polaris (the clouds, the streetlights and the US Penitentiary conspire to enhance the glow north of my father’s house).  Once we could see Polaris, we adjusted our polar mounting and attempted an alignment (as best we could since Arcturus was obscured by thin clouds and trees to the northeast and Capella was the only star visible in it’s constellation, making it difficult to determine if in fact, it was Capella).

Canis Major

To test the alignment, we told the Autostar to “goto” or find Sirius, colloquially known as the ‘Dog Star’,  the brightest star in the night sky in the constellation Canis Major, and a near neighbor to our solar system at a distance of only 2.6 parsecs (or 8.6 light years).  Considering we were unable to confirm the actual alignment through Arcturus or Capella, the Autostar still managed to get Sirius in the viewfinder scope field of view, allowing us to fine-tune and center Sirius in the eyepiece of the telescope.  We had difficulty finding Orion, not usually a problem since Sirius and Orion’s belt ‘line up’ in the night sky.  Dad finally spotted Orion’s belt, among the trees to the west and partly obscured by the clouds.  So, continuing our alignment test tour, we selected Betelgeuse as our next stop from the Autostar.  Again, the viewfinder held the image of the star, but not quite in the eyepiece.  We centered and synced again.

Canis Minor

The only other star visible to us, thanks to the moon’s continued brilliance, was the last point of the Winter Triangle, Procyon in the Canis Minor constellation.  Yes, in honor of my two Rottweilers, Roxy and Apollo, we spent some time in both the ‘greater dog’ constellation Canis Major and the ‘smaller dog’ of Canis Minor.  While we were in this section of the sky, I pulled out the Field Guide to see if there was anything worth hunting to test the telescope and Autostar alignment further.  Using the red flashlight, I found the appropriate star atlas and read the accompanying paragraph of local attractions.  The Beehive Cluster, also known as Praesepe (and so listed in the Autostar, but we used it’s Messier objects number (M44) in the menu system).  This cluster, in the constellation Cancer, can be viewed under dark skies with a low power telescope or even binoculars.  However, the Moon’s brightness  and the hazy thin clouds were conspiring to grey-out everything in the area, except lone Procyon.

Saturn eclipsing Sun

By this time, Saturn had risen high enough in the east-southeast, and the clouds had receded, for us to observe it.  Again, the Autostar successfully re-oriented on the ringed gas giant and we spent quite a while and several eyepieces basking in the glory of it’s rings.  Using the 9mm eyepiece, I was able to see the shadow of the rings upon the surface of Saturn and the gap between Saturn and it’s rings (but not the gaps between the rings).  A large tree limb interfered for ten or fifteen minutes with our further observation, during which I never really did find Titan.  In checking Sky & Telescope‘s web applet for Saturn’s Moons this morning, and subtracting about twelve hours, Titan may have been behind Saturn or it’s rings for me to find it in my telescope.

Mare Imbrium close-up

We returned triumphantly to the lunar landscape, glowing gloriously almost directly overhead by this time (sometime after ten o’clock or even half-past ten).  I again used the Field Guide to locate a map of the moon so we could identify some of the craters near or on the terminator.  We gravitated towards the craters around Mare Imbrium, spotting Plato (the dark ‘spot’ in the upper right-hand portion of the picture), Archimedes, Artistillius, Autolycus, Copernicus and Kepler (perhaps … not completely sure and it’s not strictly near Mare Imbrium).  As the clouds were closing in on the moon, Dad and I started tearing down the telescope and relocating all the equipment, lenses and books inside and I finally headed home for a mere six hours of sleep, dreaming about rings, impact craters and distant binary stars.

This is my observing setup in Gainesville. Behind the telescope is my car.

On Thursday night, I took out the telescope to get some more observing done.

Despite the nearly full moon, which was blocked by the trees, I was able to get great views of M42.

I ran into the old problem that afflicts nearly every GoTo user: alignments that are way off because of forgetting something so simple, it’s absurd.

My alignment efforts were coming up weird, and my attempts to GoTo M42 at first were way off, but then I realized. The last time I had the setup out, we were on Eastern Standard Time, not Eastern Daylight Time. Once I found the way to make the change in the hand controller, it was almost too easy.

One thing about the winter sky: There are so many great targets for alignment and calibration stars. You need to have the calibration stars on the other side of the meridian and that’s a lot easier during the winter, at least where I am. The trees take away a lot of good stars.

I got great views of my old “friends,” M36, M37 and M38 in Auriga, as well as M41 in Canis Major. I tried to get the old favorite supernova remnant M1 in Taurus, but the sky was just too bright. The prominence of the moon meant that I had to pack up for the night, but it was a brief but useful session.

Again, that ability of the hand controller to bring up objects of interest in a constellation and then GoTo them on command is great. I used it in Auriga, and it worked beautifully.

Lots of people write into the Yahoo group for the Celestron CG-5 mount complaining, but so far I’ve had no troubles.

The trip went great, with fabulous weather all along, and a welcome break to an awful winter in the north. However, a cruise ship is not the best place to actually do astrophotography!

This is a shot taken on Friday, March 11, from the upper deck and bow of the ship, the Holland America Line’s “Nieuw Amsterdam,” as we sailed on a northwest course back to Fort Lauderdale from our most southerly port of call in St. Maartens in the eastern Caribbean. The Moon is overexposed at right, and is directly ahead of us, making it look like we were sailing toward the Moon. At left is Orion and Canis Major, tipped over on their sides compared to our northerly view. This was from a latitude of about 20° North.

To keep the stars looking like stars (and not seagulls) and freeze the rolling of the ship, I had to bump the camera up to ISO 6400 and use a 5 second exposure at f/2.8 (wide open) with the 16-35mm lens. Not the best combination of settings, but it’s what it took to capture the “seascape” night scene.

– Alan, March 13, 2011 / Image © 2011 Alan Dyer

I was looking for what I thought was the “Winter Albireo” – Iota Cancri, which is in my eyes a good imposter  of Albireo. I enjoyed it immensely – beautiful double, but the real fun started when I got back in the house, sat down with my notes and discovered I had not been looking at what others call the “Winter Albireo” at all. What’s more, I think I can make a case for my candidate – Iota Cancri, over the more popular one, h3945. But first, the background.

Iota is fascinating in its own right and quite easy to find on a spring evening since its one of the brighter stars in the dim region between Leo and Gemlni  that we know as Cancer the Crab.  If you can find the Beehive (M44) , a large and beautiful open star cluster, then Iota is the 4th magnitude star nearly due north about one fist -held at arms length – from M44..

Your fist held at arms length covers about 10 degrees – just a bit more than the distance between the Beehive and Iota Cancri. (Prepared from Starry Night Pro screenshot.)

This is one of the doubles featured by Guy Consolmagno and Dan Davis in their beautiful observing guide, “Turn Left at Orion.” The primary is a giant and while the two stars are gravitationally linked, they are quite far apart as doubles go. (Almost as far apart as the real Albireo and a bit farther apart than what others call the “Winter Albireo.”)  Consolmagno and Davis note that if you were on a planet that orbited the primary star, you”would see its companion as a very bright star, about half as bright as the Full Moon. ” From a planet orbiting the secondary, the primary “would look about four times brighter than the Full Moon.” I love to carry images like that in my head to the telescope and ponder them as I observe.

But I’m getting side tracked.  See, Iota Cancri looks so much like Albireo to me that I have written “Winter Albireo” in the margins of two of my observing books next to the Iota Cancri entry.  When I saw those notes as I was planning this observing session, I assumed that was it’s accepted nickname – wrong!  Seems like the only one calling Iota Cancri that is me. Or at least I can’t find any other reference to it as such.   What I did find, as I said, is that another double I’ve never seen is called the “Winter Albireo” by many  others and is generally regarded as too frequently neglected. Well, mark me down as “neglectful” – I’ve never seen Herschel 3945, but now I am really curious, so it has moved to the top of my “to be observed list!” And when I do observe it I may change my tune, but from what I’m reading I just don’t see how they give it this nickname while ignoring Iota Cancri.

I love Albireo. Nothing can replace it. My observations of it go back nearly half a century and I’ve never tired of looking at it. I always see it as gold and blue – very easy to split and with dramatic contrast.

And when I looked at  Iota Cancri  on this occasion I saw a wonderful yellow – pale yellow – primary and a beautiful, deep, sky-blue secondary. So I will readily admit that my idea of the “Winter Albireo” doesn’t quite measure up to the summer one, but it comes close.  I confirmed this by getting a couple hours sleep, then getting up and observing the real Albireo while the memory of Iota Cancri was still fresh.

So when I got in to write this report I decided to check on the spectral types to see if that gave me a solid guide to these color differences.  Guess what? It does – but it opens more questions.  The Albireo primary is a K3, the Iota Cancri primary is G7.5.  Look at the chart in the Star Colors post and you’ll see that  we tend to perceive G stars like Iota Cancri as “yellowish white.” Whereas K stars, like the primary of Albireo, tend more towards the orange.  So “pale yellow” for Iota and “gold” for Albireo seem to fit. The secondary’s also match the spectral classes. The Albireo secondary is B8 and the Iota Cancri secondary, A3 – that makes the Albireo secondary a somewhat richer blue, but they both tend towards blue.

Yes, this is splitting hairs because colors are so difficult to perceive, but having observed them within a matter of hours of one another, I did come away with just that impression – Iota Cancri makes a credible imitation of Albireo, but in the end Iota is just not as intense.

And what about the star so many do label the “Winter Albireo?” There my curiosity is really sparked.  The h3945 primary is a K0 – so that pushes it over closer to the yellowish-orange of the real Albireo primary. So far so good.  What throws me, though, is the spectrum of the secondary. It is listed as F0! That puts it in the white category in terms of our perception – or certainly a very,very pale blue. Not nearly so blue as the B8 of Albireo, or the A3 of the Iota Cancri secondary.  These deductions based on spectral class also match the description in “Turn Left at Orion.”

Herschel 3945 gets attention under the “Also in the neighborhood” category of “Turn Left at Orion” – just not the neighborhood of Iota Cancri.  They link it with observing an open cluster, NGC2362, in Canis Major.  They note that the primary is a “distinct red, while it’s companion may appear white or yellow.” Huh?! Does that sound like Albireo to you? Red and white/yellow?  What happened to gold and blue? I find their description in tune with the spectral classification, but out of tune with Albireo.  Still, they note that this double  is more popularly known as ‘The Winter Albireo.’  Indeed the color contrast and separation are reminiscent of Albireo…” Oh boy! Color contrast maybe, but not color. Now I really have to get a look at these stars!

So I’ll report back here after I’ve looked at h3945 and we’d love to hear from others on how they see these three stars. Here are the vital statistics for each.

Just looking at the stats, they do all look pretty similar until you get to spectral class and in that  I would think Iota Cancri would be a  better match.

And h3945? How does Sissy Haas see it? Well, she reports the stars “are bright citrus orange and royal blue: the colors are seen vividly and in strong contrast.”

And, of course, we have discussed many times  the variables involved in seeing color differences – but there may be something special here in h3945. I can’t wait to see for myself.

Update: March 12, 2011

Conditions certainly could have been better, but seeing was just a bit below average and I found a hole through the bare tree branches where I had a clean shot at h3935 and guess what? It’s every bit as  beautiful as folks say – but in my book it is not the “Winter Albireo.” In fact, the colors remind me more of Rasalgethi  (Alpha [α] Herculi) – orange going to red with a blue companion. I think one thing that separates it from Albireo, besid the colors, is the primary just isn’t as dazzling. With Albireo you’re seeing  a magnitude 3.1 primary, whereas  h3945 is nearly two magnitudes fainter.

I would also say that I’m looking through a lot of atmosphere – I caught it when it was about 24 degrees above my southern horizon which is only a couple degrees lower than it is at transit, so I can’t do much better. I suspect that contributes to the redness  however. Folks in the southern states  have a better shot at this beauty. I used the Televue 60 with a 10mm Tak for 36X which to my taste gave very nice proportions.  It was just as attractive in the TV85 with a 13mm Nagler – 46X.

Want to take a look for yourself? Here’s a finder for the “Winter Albireo” aka. h3945.

Look for the triagle of bright stars south of Sirius. Atsra with Adhara and go to Wessen – consider that one step. Continue moving inthe same direction the smae amount (about 3.5° – and you willfind yourself at h3945.

Now that said, the overall impression of the true ALbireo in a 60mm scope at 72X left me duly dazzled  – and smiling broardly at the winter imposter. Oh Iota Cancri is nice. It is wonderful, really – it just isn’t Albireo. But it’s a darned good substitute on an early Spring evening.  Hmmmm. . . and maybe that’s the solution. When I made this observation it was still winter and Iota was well placed at a reasonable hour.  So i guess that makes it a winter star. But I have to admit, it feels more like a spring star. So maybe I should give the Big Dog his “Winter Albireo” regardless – and give the Crab a Spring Albireo!

- Alan, January 2011 / Image © 2011 Alan Dyer

Taken from an article (24 January 2011) by British Philosopher Alain de Botton in the online resource, Operation Noah: http://www.operationnoah.org/nature-relationship

‘Fear of ecological destruction causes us to pity and protect nature rather than oppose it, says Alain de Botton’

The environmental dangers that now face mankind put non-scientific philosophical types like me in an awkward situation. We have to acknowledge that we can have precisely nothing interesting to say on the two most important questions in the air right now, namely: “What is going to happen to the human race?” and “What should we do about it?” It is not from a philosopher that you stand to be enlightened.

Nevertheless, maybe there is still a point in trying to reflect on, rather than simply solve our ecological dilemmas. It remains valid to try to fathom what the idea of planetary abuse has done to our minds. We may ask what the awareness of the environmental crisis has done to our inner landscape, how it has altered the human psyche.

We can begin by observing that there is nothing new for mankind about confronting the possibility of its own destruction. The feeling that the present order – the neat fields, the ordered laundry cupboards, the full granaries – might soon disappear would have been intensely familiar to any inhabitant of medieval Europe. You need only study the carvings on the sides of the cathedrals to see that our imaginations have for centuries been haunted by visions of Armageddon.

Power

However, we have grown used to conceiving of our present environmental situation as unparalleled. Perhaps it’s because we have learnt of it through the media and because for the daily paper, everything must necessarily be novel. There never was a Lisbon earthquake or a sack of Rome. No one has ever murdered their children or wasted their money. This isn’t to deny some intensely novel features behind our anxieties, just to insist that we should probably carefully separate out the familiar, long-standing morbidity of homo sapiens from the particular features of the current predicament.

We might do worse than to date our present ecological awareness to the moment when the two bombs exploded over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. These weapons showed us not only that mankind was perishable (an old thought), but that it was perishable through human action (rather than because of disease-bearing rats). In other words, that we have acquired the power to commit species suicide.

We have always known ourselves to be short-sighted and murderous. We have only in the past few generations learnt that we are also very powerful. We have been blessed with enough intelligence to alter our fates in a way no other animal can, while being denied enough wisdom to keep our baser sides under control.

Yet despite similarities, environmental destruction differs from its nuclear counterpart in a crucial component. Generals who blow up bombs know they want to kill people. Chief executives who manage lorries transporting milk from depots to supermarkets generally have no motives more sinister than the wish to make some money for their shareholders.

When we use ample water to brush our teeth or fly to Florence to see some Titians, aggression is far from our minds. However, we are now daily reminded that innocent everyday actions have a cumulative destructive potential greater than an A-bomb. We have been asked to reconceive of ourselves as unthinking killers.

The destruction is occurring not primarily through what any one of us has done, but through what we are doing collectively as a race. We are implicated in a crime we cannot control singly. Salvation must be collective. So we are guilty, but also unusually powerless.

Mystery

Murderers have it easy in this respect, beside the ordinary citizen of the modern world. They can at least free themselves from sin by repenting and then changing their ways through their own willpower. They have no need to secure simultaneous agreement from six billion others across 193 countries.

Yet for us to give up altogether, to do nothing, is not an option because we are sternly reminded that if everyone thought this way, we would be lost. We are returned to the Christian injunction to avoid despair not because there is anything to feel especially cheerful about, but because hope is equated with humanity and a concern for other people.

Our role in environmental destruction has caused a sense of guilt
The ecological situation has forever changed our relationship to nature. An unusually warm spring day cannot now be what it was for Chaucer and Wordsworth – a manifestation of the mystery and power of the non-human realm. Since our beginnings, the experience of nature involved an encounter with “the Other”. The mountains and valleys reminded us that the planet was built by something other than our own hands, by a force greater than we could gather, long before we were born, and set to continue long after our extinction. We could go into nature and see that we were the playthings of forces that laid out the oceans and chiselled the mountains.

How mindsets have changed. The equation has been reversed. Nature doesn’t remind us that we are small, but rather provides chilling, awesome evidence of our size and strength. We glance up to the snows of Mount Kilimanjaro and think of how quickly our coal generators have heated the earth. We fly over the denuded stretches of the Amazon and see how easily we have gashed the planet.

Nature used to terrify us, now we terrify ourselves. We are responsible for the early flowering of those Wordsworthian daffodils. Our fingerprints are all over the uncannily early return of the migratory birds. We control not only the traffic and the planes, but also the very cycle of the seasons.

Empathetic powers

We have in response to our situation become hysterically sentimental towards nature. We take pity on her. We treat all of her like a wounded panda. We have come far from the attitude of the ancient Greeks, who saw nature as their adversary, potentially generous, but at heart a foe. We have lost all sense of the ancient fight and now feel responsible. Despite our puny frames and lifespans, we have even succeeded in feeling guilt towards glaciers.

The role of the commentator on the environment is at one level to enable us to notice changes that are occurring. But at another level, it is also a question of getting us to care. And this is a tall order, for we are being asked to worry about the possible reduction in the number of our species three generations hence, when we all have to deal with a far more imminent problem – our own death.

We are being asked to worry about other people who are not yet born as much as we worry about ourselves. Never before in the history of humanity have we been asked to care so much about others of whom we know so little. Our empathetic powers have been stretched to breaking point.

This may be where art has to come in. It is artists who are going to have to help us to picture – literally and figuratively – dangers which are generally invisible and are therefore constantly subsumed under the weight of our more mundane or personally intense concerns. Artists may have no solutions, but they are the ones who can come up with the words and images to make visible and important the most abstract and impersonal of challenges.

The environmental crisis forces us to find our feelings of awe elsewhere, out in the universe. Science should matter to us not only because it helps us to control parts of the world, but also because it shows us things we will never master. Thus we would do well to meditate daily, rather as the religious do on their God, on the 9.5 trillion kilometres which comprise a single light-year, or perhaps on the luminosity of the largest known star in our galaxy, Eta Carinae, 7,500 light-years distant, 400 times the size of the sun and 4 million times as bright.

We should punctuate our calendars with celebrations in honour of VY Canis Majoris, a red hypergiant in the constellation Canis Major, 5,000 light-years from earth and 2,100 times bigger than our sun. Nightly – perhaps after the main news bulletin and before the celebrity quiz – we might observe a moment of silence in order to contemplate the 200 to 400 billion stars in our galaxy, the 100 billion galaxies and the three septillion stars in the universe.

Whatever their value may be to science, at least the stars can be of use as solutions to our megalomania, self-pity and anxiety.

Image via Wikipedia

If Orion took off his belt, would his pants fall down?

Nobody, really knows because he’s been too busy putting on a show as a major winter time constellation for thousands of years.

If you go outside on a clear night in February, and look south you’ll see seven bright stars that make up this great hunter.

Look for stars Betelgeuse that make up Orion’s left shoulder and move clockwise to Bellatrix, Rigel – Star Trek’s captain Kirk’s home planet – and Orionis. The three stars that make up Orion’s signature belt from upper right are Mintaka, Alnilam and Anitak. 

The constellation is full of astronomical wonders such as the Horse Head Nebulae, Betelgeuse a variable star and Mintaka a double star.  

Since ancient people didn’t have TV, they would make up soap opera characters in the night sky.  The script in Orion went along like this.

Orion fell in love with the Pleiades or the seven sisters.  This group of star can be found by following Orion’s belt to the right to the bright star Aldebaran, which is the eye in Taurus. If you follow past this V shaped constellation of five stars you’ll find the Pleiades.  

Initially, you might think that it’s a cloud of stars, but if you look closer you might see five or six stars. A look at them with binoculars is spectacular.

Now, Orion was in love with all the seven sisters — yes all of them — but they didn’t feel the same way towards him.  So they sat on the back of Taurus the bull that protected them. Poor Orion had to protect himself against the charging beast and asked the gods for help.

Hearing Orion’s pleas the gods sent two hunting dogs Siruis and Procyen. Sirius, the dog star is found by drawing a straight line from the left side of Orion’s belt and is the nose of Canis Major, the big dog. Look up and you’ll see the little dog star, Procyon in Canis Minor.

But the two dogs didn’t help Orion much because they would spend their days chasing a unicorn, the constellation Monoceros and a rabbit, the constellation Eridanus.

Sounds like a familiar TV script doesn’t it? Check out the one minute Star Gazer video at www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nt55P0ynsmk for a more details.

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Tonight’s sky (January 17, 2011) —- Find the waxing gibbous Moon (96% illuminated) surrounded by the stars of the bright Winter Constellations (Auriga, Taurus, Orion, Canis Minor, Canis Major, and Gemini). This beautiful celestial view will climb up to the zenith at around 10 PM local time.

Image: Stellarium (You may download this free planetarium software here.)

Clear skies!

Who knows how many times people quailed in fear as something awful seemed to happen to the moon. That reliable nighttime beacon on rare occasions seemed to be turning dark, then red; sometimes partially and sometimes completely.

Today, we are modern and aware of what’s happening, but it’s awe-inspiring nonetheless.

On Monday night-Tuesday morning, I shared the wonders of the recent lunar eclipse with friends in Gainesville. They live in a beautiful house west of the city, and I arrived shortly after midnight.

It was a bitter cold night, but with no wind at least, and we were all bundled up. Their warm house was a refuge when the cold got to be too much.

Above us, the full moon shone brightly and there were a few stars visible. It’s the winter, so the absolutely spectacular show of Orion and his dogs, as well as the familiar winter constellations of Gemini, Auriga and Taurus, was muted somewhat.

But then, right on time, a part of the moon seemed to darken a bit. Soon, a line of darkness became apparent, and it slowly marched across the surface of the moon. Suddenly, the fainter stars began to show themselves. It took a while, but eventually the moon was completely in the Earth’s shadow and it had turned orangy-red. The most apparent effect was that it was like the moon wasn’t there. The light had been turned down and suddenly, it seemed like the wonders of the winter night sky were available.

With my trusty Celestron 7×50 binoculars, I sought out M44 in Cancer, M35 in Gemini, a cluster in Canis Major and my old friend, M42, the Great Nebula in Orion. And, of course, the moon, now eclipsed and dark. How frightened people must have been in ancient days.

Eventually, we retreated to the house with totality still happening and went to work on some photos for the Gainesville Sun’s website. I left the house at 4:15 a.m. and the moon was coming out of eclipse, and part of it was bright again. I drove home to my condo in Gainesville, came in, turned the heat up high (it was 33 degrees outside) and uploaded the photos of the moon to the web before hitting the hay at 4:45 a.m. I had to be at work Tuesday night, so it was important to sleep.

I got up around 12:30 p.m. and felt so awesome. I had seen a total lunar eclipse, the most recent of several I have seen. In my bucket list is seeing a total solar eclipse and the solar corona. Someday, I tell myself. Someday.

But in the meantime I have the fond memories of a fun night with wonderful friends, watching the moon go dark, and then emerge back into the light.

Image via Wikipedia

The big dipper is not a constellation, but an asterism (a familiar group of stars located within a constellation). See image to the left (photo credit: NASA/Jerry Lodriguss).

Look for seven major stars: four in the “bowl” and three in the “handle.” The two stars on the outside of the bowl are called the “pointer” stars. They point to Polaris, a bright star that is also called the North Star because with it you can figure out which way is north.

To find north:

• Find the Big Dipper.
• Find the pointer stars.
• Find Polaris.
• Look straight up.
• Turn your body towards Polaris.
• Now, you’re facing north.

Ursa Major, the Great Bear

If you find the Big Dipper, you have found the Great Bear: The Dipper’s handle is the Bear’s tail.  See the image to the right (credit: NASA/Akira Fujii).

Legends about the Great Bear abound. Ancient Greeks and Romans believed that a mythological king grabbed its tail, swung it around, and swung it into the sky to whirl around the North Pole forever. Some Native Americans believed that the three tail stars were hunters chasing the Bear.

Ursa Minor, the Little Bear

Polaris will help you find the Little Dipper, also known as Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear. Polar is the star on the end of the Little Dipper’s handle.

Orion, the Hunter

This is easiest to find in the winter.  Look for three bright stars in a line—these are Orion’s belt. See image to the left (credit: NASA).

The two stars north of this are Orion’s shoulders. One of these is Betelgeuse (“BETTLE-juice”), which is a giant red star. The two brighter stars to the south are his legs.

Ancient people used Orion to predict the seasons: If it appeared at midnight, the grapes were ready to harvest. If it appeared in the morning, summer was beginning. If it appeared in the evening, winter had arrived.

Canis Major, the Great Dog

This is named for the larger of Orion’s two hunting dogs (the other, Canis Minor, has only two stars).

To find Canis Major:

• Imagine a straight line through Orion’s belt.
• Move your eyes left (south) until you come to a very bright star—that’s Sirius, the nose of the dog.
• Look farther south to find a triangle of stars that marks the dog’s hindquarters.

Ancient Egyptians called Sirus “the Nile Star” because it always appeared in the sky right before summer began and the waters of the River Nile began to flood. In medieval Europe, people thought that a combination of light from the Sun and Sirius caused the hot and humid “dog days” of summer.

On a clear and moonless night away from bright lights, you can see about 2,500 stars. Spend some time looking at the sky and connect the stars!

Credit: www-a.jpl.nasa.gov

http://www.almanac.com/content/stargazing-finding-stars-and-constellations?utm_source=Almanac+Companion&utm_campaign=af4740e608-Companion_October_14_2010&utm_medium=email

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Horn Dog is another in the Canis Major series of beer from the folks at Flying Dog. This barley wine style ale has an ABV of 10.2% and 45 IBUs.

Horn Dog is a big, malty monster of an ale. Fortunately, its wrath is moderately hopped and tastes like licorice and chocolate. Horn is such a robust beast that we have to keep it caged and contained at the brewery for a couple months before letting it integrate with the public.

Horn pours with a DARK amber color.  When held to the light, it looks similar to a refreshing glass of iced tea.  The head is moderate and the carbonation is mild.  However, the head quick dissipates and leaves a fine film on the top of the brew.

Dark fruits are the name of the game when it comes to smells.  Raisins, figs, dates, molasses and licorice are front and center in the nose.  I was also reminded of brandy when quaffing.

This is a fantastic barley wine! This tastes very much like red wine with hints of raisins and a pleasant alcohol warmth.  Horn Dog is much sweeter and smoother than your average barley wine.  A very drinkable “big beer”.  Side note, as the beer cools down it looses the sweetness, but retains the heat.

Horn Dog is a medium bodied beer.  The mouthfeel is sticky, but not as bad as other beers in the barley wine style. There is a nice little bite as the beer finishes that leaves some heat in your mouth.

Flying Dog Brewery has succeeded in making one of the best barley wine (style) ales that I’ve had the pleasure of tasting. Easy to drink, tastes good and doesn’t burn like other similar brews, Horn Dog is a winner.

Overall: 8 out of 10

As a BARLEY WINE: 8.5 out of 10

FOR FANS OF: Sierra Nevada BIGFOOT, Victory OLD HORIZONTAL, Lagunitas OLDE GNARLYWINE

Flying Dog’s Double Dog Double Pale Ale is just what it claims, a hoppy beer (85 IBUs) with a massive 11.5% ABV.

Back by popular demand, our original “Wild Dog Release” is back, and this time it’s for good. Double Dog Double Pale Ale is a generously hopped ale with a deep red color and pours with a nice frothy head. The abundance of hops will conjure some provocative aromas with hints of raisins and citrus.

Double Dog pours a light copper color with golden highlights on the bottom and auburn hues at the top.  The head is massive and stays for a few minutes, before relenting to a slight foamy covering. Lacing is sticky and hangs for the duration.

The nose is heavy with pine and sugary sweetness. Hints of alcohol, strawberry and peach are dancing around in the background.

An alcoholic bite greets you before you even taken a single sip.  The warmth is waiting for you, biding its time. Hops are the name of the game with this one. Piney/floral flavors fill your mouth and run all the way down your throat. This is an overpowering beer and definitely not for the faint of heart…and by that I mean people that aren’t used to the hops.  Sadly none of the fruit scents that appeared in the nose are actually present in the taste.

Although the beer itself is light, the mouthfeel is sticky and has a distinct warming taste throughout.

You definitely have to be in the right mood to enjoy the Double Dog Double Pale Ale.  I’m learning to love the hop-bombs, but this one just didn’t do it for me.  I’m not going to buy it again anytime soon, but maybe I’ll give it another shot sometime down the road.

Overall: 4 out of 10

As an AMERICAN DOUBLE/IMPERIAL IPA: 5 out of 10

FOR FANS OF: Stone RUINATION IPA, Dogfish Head 90 MINUTE IPA, Avery MAHARAJA

Kerberos Tripel is part of the Flying Dog Brewery’s Canis Major series.  This Belgian ale comes in with an 8.5% ABV and 27 IBU.

Greetings, oh god of the bar-stool.  In your hand resides mighty Kerberos Tripel.  A Belgian-style ale so cherished, that its namesake, the three-headed, hellhound, sentinel of the underworld guards thy bottle.  So quench thy godly self.  Then ask thee barmaid to retrieve thee another.  For you are most powerful, and this is your bounty.

The beer pours with a golden color, but a lovely orange hue comes through when held to the light.  A one-inch, foamy, white head appears, but quickly dissipates into a fine foam.  There is a fair amount of carbonation that lasts long after the head.

Belgian scents are the name of the game with this one.  Belgian yeast and Belgian candi sugar are most prominent in the nose.  Mild hints of banana and orange can be found hidden amongst them.

Ahhhh, Kerberos is delicious!  The Belgian favors dance all over your tongue as the beer slides around your mouth.  There is a slight alcoholic warming (but that kinda goes with the 8.5% ABV territory).  The banana is also present and I was reminded of Laffy Taffy candies.

Mouthfeel is surprisingly light and doesn’t have any warming until swallowed.  Drying is light, but there is a noticeable stickiness.

Kerberos is a fine Belgian style ale.  Although the warming sensation can be a bit much, I still enjoyed drinking it.  I just wish that the mix pack contained bigger bottles (they were only 7 fl oz.)

Overall:  7.5 out of 10

As a BELGIAN TRIPEL: 8 out of 10

FOR FANS OF: Victory GOLDEN MONKEY, Green Flash TRIPPEL, The Bruery TRADE WINDS TRIPEL