Can’t see heavens for all the stars

Can’t see heavens for all the stars

Photo by Edward Paterson on Unsplash

Originally published 4 December 2001

This is the time of year when any­one who teach­es or writes about astron­o­my is del­uged with the ques­tion: What kind of tele­scope should I buy my kid for Christmas?

My answer is usu­al­ly the same: Don’t.

It is true that a gift tele­scope occa­sion­al­ly sparks a pas­sion­ate and life­long inter­est in the sky. More often, the scope ends up in the clos­et or under the bed, unused and forgotten.

The sce­nario goes some­thing like this: The kid opens the pack­age with the shiny new scope on Christ­mas morn­ing and spends the day hap­pi­ly assem­bling the instru­ment. That night, the tele­scope is lugged into the yard and, with dif­fi­cul­ty, point­ed at a star. Guess what? The star looks the same in the scope as it did to the eye.

There are lots of won­der­ful things to see in the heav­ens with a qual­i­ty scope, but you have to know what to look for. The only obvi­ous tar­get is the moon, and a kid will get tired of that pret­ty quick. Plan­ets are spec­tac­u­lar tar­gets, but first you must be able to find them; to the naked eye they are indis­tin­guish­able from bright stars.

Won­der­ful deep-sky objects — galax­ies, neb­u­las, star clus­ters — are there for the pick­ing but, until you know your way around the sky, vir­tu­al­ly impos­si­ble to find.

The new com­put­er-guid­ed scopes can make find­ing celes­tial objects easy if prop­er­ly aligned. But that is putting the cart before the horse.

The first instru­ment to use when enjoy­ing the sky is the unaid­ed eye.

The best sky gift you can give your kids for Christ­mas is a naked-eye knowl­edge of the night. Get a good star guide and learn the con­stel­la­tions togeth­er. Learn the names of the stars and fol­low the motions of the stars, moon, and plan­ets. Take the kids to a place far from city lights and enjoy togeth­er the glo­ry of the Milky Way.

Two tools that will help:

Guy Ottewell’s Astro­nom­i­cal Cal­en­dar, avail­able from www.universalworkshop.com, a year­ly com­pendi­um of things to look for in the sky, with maps and draw­ings of notable celes­tial events.

Star­ry Night Back­yard com­put­er soft­ware, from www.space.com [No longer avail­able-Ed.], the next best thing to the sky itself. A few clicks of the mouse will show you what’s to be seen every night, from your very own place on the globe.

Knowl­edge­able tele­scop­ic view­ing is fun, but the best moments of sky-watch­ing require no instru­ment at all, except a pair of eyes and a sense of wonder.

I think of Mars this past sum­mer, blaz­ing blood red near the south­ern hori­zon, brighter than at any time in more than a dozen years, out­shin­ing even Jupiter.

Or Venus and an eye­lash-thin cres­cent moon on the morn­ing of Sep­tem­ber 15, snug­gling togeth­er in the east­ern sky, the dark part of the moon more bright­ly lit by Earth­shine than at any oth­er time I can remember.

At the begin­ning of Novem­ber, Venus and Mer­cury sailed togeth­er through the dawn, mak­ing spot­ting elu­sive Mer­cury as easy as pie.

On the morn­ing of Novem­ber 18, the sky was stream­ered with light as the Leonid mete­ors put on a show.

These were pre­cious moments, in which all of the sens­es were alive to beau­ty, moments when knowl­edge and expe­ri­ence came togeth­er, eye and mind, exhil­a­rat­ing and inspiring.

In a poem titled “Aedh Wish­es for the Cloths of Heav­en,” William But­ler Yeats wrote:

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet.

A tele­scope lets one exam­ine sin­gle knots in the embroi­dery of night, and the day inevitably comes when any ded­i­cat­ed star-watch­er wants to expe­ri­ence that kind of detail. But why both­er with the knots before expe­ri­enc­ing the splen­dor of the dark cloths them­selves, cast from hori­zon to hori­zon, span­gled and ever-changing?

It may be eas­i­er to spend $300 on a tele­scope and be done with it, but 300 min­utes spent with a child under the night sky will bring the heav­ens down to Earth in a way no tele­scope can manage.

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