I scan the new astrophysics papers regularly. I almost always find something I end up downloading and reading, either right then and there, or later when I have time to concentrate. Rarely do I stumble across a paper that I can't take my eyes away from, like a great novel. One of those times when, forsaking all else, you must get to the last page.
Yesterday I found a great paper. What I was most pleased with was the fact it was written in plain English, with good grammar and organization. I understood every bit of it from start to end! That almost never happens. I couldn't stop reading it.
I don't have a PhD in astronomy or physics. I do this because I love it, period. So I often find myself part way into a paper on some astrophysical phenomena that the author is trying to explain, but no lights are going on in my brain. Either the subject is too technical for me to grasp, or the author is writing about things at a level only the top five experts in the world would ever understand. Add the poor English skills of foreign scientists writing in a second language and things can get ugly fast.
At some point I have to decide to either suck it up and plow through, hoping that a light will come on somewhere in the process, or skim through the rest to see if anything interesting develops with the plot.
Rarely do I find myself whooping it up and commenting out loud about the paper in my hands.
Okay, enough teasing. The paper is Absolute Magnitudes of Dwarf Novae: Murmurs of Period Bounce by Joe Patterson. Obviously, the subject appeals to me because dwarf novae are my special area of interest. But let me quote you some examples of why I was so impressed with this paper.
The first paragraph:
"Distance is the sine qua non of astrophysics. A distance estimate is required to convert flux to luminosity, and stellar physics is all about luminosity, not flux. Unfortunately, distances to cataclysmic variables are particularly difficult to estimate, because the dominant light source is not a star, but an accretion disk- preventing straightforward application of physical methods developed for single stars."
That will never be stated more clearly, ever. Yet it has a conversational tone to it that invites you in to take a look around. Remember, this is a scientific paper!
There are some other gems near the beginning that particularly caught my attention.
"In the 1980's available data on dwarf nova eruptions consisted of a blend of photographic and visual magnitudes. But now we have access to searchable variable star records, especially that of the AAVSO. The human eye is the ideal detector for this purpose, since it is immune to changes in technology, and used by thousands of observers. Furthermore, the central wavelengths of the eye and the commonly used Johnson V filter are similar; and both detectors are broad enough to render line emission insignificant."
He gives praise to the observations of amateur observers, the AAVSO and explains why visual observations are scientifically valuable all in one breath! I have a new hero.
I won't spoil it by giving away the end, and if you want to find out what period bouncers are you're going to have to read the paper.
I'm going to print it out on fine paper, have it bound in a nice little cover, and get Joe to autograph it for me when I see him in Tucson later this month at the CV conference, 'Wild Stars in the Old West.'
Tampilkan postingan dengan label Visual Observations. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label Visual Observations. Tampilkan semua postingan
Minggu, 03 November 2013
Can Visual Astronomers Still Contribute to Science?
Today's episode of the 365 Days of Astronomy Podcast examines the controversial issue of the scientific value of visual observations.
Entitled Can Visual Observers Still Contribute to Science? we examine the consequences of living in an age with CCDs and automated sky surveys, and the impact they are having on visual variable star observers.
Restless Universe is the podcast of the American Association of Variable Star Observers (AAVSO).
Entitled Can Visual Observers Still Contribute to Science? we examine the consequences of living in an age with CCDs and automated sky surveys, and the impact they are having on visual variable star observers.
Restless Universe is the podcast of the American Association of Variable Star Observers (AAVSO).
Don�t Lick the Telescope, and Other Tips for Cold Weather Observing
December marks the transition here in Michigan from cool fall weather to downright frigid winter temperatures. For most of January, February and March, there is snow on the ground and the daytime temperatures will hover around freezing. Nighttime temperatures will be well below freezing, and on those few precious clear winter nights it can be unbelievably cold.
Here are some cold weather survival tips I have learned, observing from Michigan in temperatures down to 20 below zero Fahrenheit.
1. Wear warm boots. When I meet people new to astronomy, they always want to know what the best telescope is and what accessories to buy. I always tell them, "The most important piece of equipment you will ever buy is warm boots". When it is clear, it is cold. If your feet are cold, you are miserable. If you are miserable, you are done.
Standing on the cold, damp ground outside you�ll soon know if your boots are up to the task. If they absorb moisture, or don�t insulate you from the cold ground your toes will be crying Uncle long before your favorite Messier object clears the trees.
2. Always dress for temperatures 20 degrees colder than you predict it will be each night.
For the most part, you are not moving around a lot when looking through a telescope, downloading images from your camera or monitoring your tracking. You don�t generate any heat of your own just sitting there, and the night air has a way of sucking the warmth out of you faster than you think it will.
3. Wear a hat. Most of the heat in your body escapes through the top of your head like a chimney. Cover your head and retain body heat.
I�ve seen lots of funky looking hats at star parties. Don�t worry about fashion. Go for comfort. My deep-winter, arctic-air-repelling hat is a big leather and fur job with earflaps and a long extension in back that covers my neck. I look like one of the wicked witch of the North�s soldiers in my long coat and that hat, but I�m warm.
4. Keep your hands warm. Mittens are better than gloves, but they are awkward to use when dealing with focuser knobs, charts, pens and pencils, But if you can keep your fingers together, tucked away from the cold, they fare much better than they do as individual digits exposed to the elements. I�ve never had much luck with those gloves with the flip-top mitten cover for your fingers.
If you insist on wearing gloves, like I do, keep your hands in your pockets and out of the wind, as much as you can. Those little chemical heat packs you can buy in sporting goods stores work pretty well for a while. I sometimes throw a couple in my coat packets to create a safe haven for my fingers for a few moments between variable star observations.
If your fingers begin to hurt from the cold, go inside or get in your car and warm them up thoroughly. Frostbite can be very painful.
5. Get out of the wind. Most of the time it�s not the air temperature that gets you, it�s the wind-chill. Put a building or a hedge, or better yet, an observatory, between you and the wind and you will be able to endure the cold for twice as long. The added bonus, of not having the telescope shake in the breeze, will save you time in making critical observations.
I remember very well the night that convinced me to build an observatory. It took twice as long as usual to set up wearing gloves, I dropped a small wrench in the snow and spent half an hour looking for it, the telescope was shaking so much it was hard to see anything in the eyepiece, my eyes kept tearing up from the wind and dropping tears onto the eyepiece lens, and the wind kept blowing right up my back as I faced south trying in vain to make variable star estimates.
I spent three hours out in the snow and wind and got exactly one variable star estimate that night. That week I became the proud owner of a fiberglass, domed observatory.
6. Don�t breathe on optics. Breathing on cold glass means instant frost. If you wear a scarf over your face, be sure not to let the warm air you exhale spill out over the top of the scarf and down onto the eyepiece.
Set up your finder-scope so you are not breathing on the eyepiece when looking through the finder. On very cold nights, I sometimes have a large patch of frost on the back of the mirror cell of my Schmidt-Cassegrain, caused from my breath freezing on the back of the telescope while looking through the finder-scope.
7. If you have dew heaters, use them right from the start of your session. They are much better at preventing frosted corrector plates, secondaries, eyepieces and finders than they are at removing frost. If you don�t have dew heaters, get them.
A heated box or holder for eyepieces can be a great benefit. If you only switch between a few, keep them in your pockets to stay warm.
Another accessory I find handy is a small hair dryer. If you have electricity available, one of these can be great to warm the eyepiece up enough to prevent fogging. If the lens or corrector plate on your telescope frosts up, you can use it to carefully remove the dew or frost.
You can also use it to warm your fingers. I�ve even stuck mine inside my coat to warm my frozen torso enough to go a little while longer. I�m sure this is a fire hazard, and you�ll probably read in the paper one day, �Michigan astronomer mysteriously ignites into flames, burning down observatory.�
8. If you take notes at the telescope like I do, keep your pen warm or the ink will freeze. I have one of those "astronaut pens". Even that froze at 20 below.
I keep my pens tucked behind my ear to keep them warm. All my observing hats have a distinct black ink spot on the inside lining, just behind my left ear, from me continuously sliding my pen in and out under my cap and over my ear for warm storage.
9. Use a plastic flashlight. If you are like most of my friends who read charts and log observations using a red flashlight, you put the flashlight in your mouth to write. On very cold nights, a metal flashlight can stick to your lip and be hard to remove without losing a bit of flesh.
Don�t laugh; I�ve seen it happen!
I suppose rule 9A should be, "don�t lick the telescope!"
If I ever see anyone get his or her tongue stuck to a frozen telescope, you�ll be the first to know!
10. Take breaks every hour or half hour, depending on the weather, and go warm up. Keep an extra pair of dry socks warming on the dash of your car, or go in and throw a pair in the dryer for a few minutes. It�s amazing how a nice toasty pair of socks can change your attitude!
I�ve received several pairs of electric socks for Christmas and birthdays over the years from well-meaning friends and family, but I�ve never been really impressed by them. Considering the number of batteries it takes to actually keep your feet warm, it�s just not worth it. Refer to rule #1. Wear warm boots.
11. Be aware of battery life in cold temperatures. The batteries in your flashlight, telescope, camera, dew heaters, etc., will perform poorly in cold temperatures. They�re smarter than me. They know when to quit. Keep warm extras handy.
12. Keep your own personal battery charged. Plenty of rest, a good meal, snacks and hot coffee go a long way towards warding off the inevitable freeze.
The search for a thermos that would keep coffee hot in sub-zero temperatures was my �Holy Grail� for a long time. After years of searching, I finally found one at a camping supply store. It cost a pretty penny, but it makes all the difference to me.
13. Know your limits. You have to be realistic about how much cold, discomfort or pain you are willing endure in order to get those last few observations. Don�t wait until it�s too late and then decide to tear down and pack up.
When you are really frozen, you fingers don�t work right, you move slower, you feel more tired than you normally would, and you can get careless, dropping things in the dark or forgetting how to pack your gear just so. All this means it is going to take you longer than usual to tear down.
That�s when you will meet Mr. Frostbite. It is better to take my word for it than to learn a painful lesson from him.
With a little planning and common sense you can take advantage of those long, clear, cold winter nights. Orion, Gemini and Taurus are calling. Just be careful out there.
1. Wear warm boots. When I meet people new to astronomy, they always want to know what the best telescope is and what accessories to buy. I always tell them, "The most important piece of equipment you will ever buy is warm boots". When it is clear, it is cold. If your feet are cold, you are miserable. If you are miserable, you are done.
Standing on the cold, damp ground outside you�ll soon know if your boots are up to the task. If they absorb moisture, or don�t insulate you from the cold ground your toes will be crying Uncle long before your favorite Messier object clears the trees.
2. Always dress for temperatures 20 degrees colder than you predict it will be each night.
For the most part, you are not moving around a lot when looking through a telescope, downloading images from your camera or monitoring your tracking. You don�t generate any heat of your own just sitting there, and the night air has a way of sucking the warmth out of you faster than you think it will.
3. Wear a hat. Most of the heat in your body escapes through the top of your head like a chimney. Cover your head and retain body heat.
I�ve seen lots of funky looking hats at star parties. Don�t worry about fashion. Go for comfort. My deep-winter, arctic-air-repelling hat is a big leather and fur job with earflaps and a long extension in back that covers my neck. I look like one of the wicked witch of the North�s soldiers in my long coat and that hat, but I�m warm.
4. Keep your hands warm. Mittens are better than gloves, but they are awkward to use when dealing with focuser knobs, charts, pens and pencils, But if you can keep your fingers together, tucked away from the cold, they fare much better than they do as individual digits exposed to the elements. I�ve never had much luck with those gloves with the flip-top mitten cover for your fingers.
If you insist on wearing gloves, like I do, keep your hands in your pockets and out of the wind, as much as you can. Those little chemical heat packs you can buy in sporting goods stores work pretty well for a while. I sometimes throw a couple in my coat packets to create a safe haven for my fingers for a few moments between variable star observations.
If your fingers begin to hurt from the cold, go inside or get in your car and warm them up thoroughly. Frostbite can be very painful.
5. Get out of the wind. Most of the time it�s not the air temperature that gets you, it�s the wind-chill. Put a building or a hedge, or better yet, an observatory, between you and the wind and you will be able to endure the cold for twice as long. The added bonus, of not having the telescope shake in the breeze, will save you time in making critical observations.
I remember very well the night that convinced me to build an observatory. It took twice as long as usual to set up wearing gloves, I dropped a small wrench in the snow and spent half an hour looking for it, the telescope was shaking so much it was hard to see anything in the eyepiece, my eyes kept tearing up from the wind and dropping tears onto the eyepiece lens, and the wind kept blowing right up my back as I faced south trying in vain to make variable star estimates.
I spent three hours out in the snow and wind and got exactly one variable star estimate that night. That week I became the proud owner of a fiberglass, domed observatory.
6. Don�t breathe on optics. Breathing on cold glass means instant frost. If you wear a scarf over your face, be sure not to let the warm air you exhale spill out over the top of the scarf and down onto the eyepiece.
Set up your finder-scope so you are not breathing on the eyepiece when looking through the finder. On very cold nights, I sometimes have a large patch of frost on the back of the mirror cell of my Schmidt-Cassegrain, caused from my breath freezing on the back of the telescope while looking through the finder-scope.
7. If you have dew heaters, use them right from the start of your session. They are much better at preventing frosted corrector plates, secondaries, eyepieces and finders than they are at removing frost. If you don�t have dew heaters, get them.
A heated box or holder for eyepieces can be a great benefit. If you only switch between a few, keep them in your pockets to stay warm.
Another accessory I find handy is a small hair dryer. If you have electricity available, one of these can be great to warm the eyepiece up enough to prevent fogging. If the lens or corrector plate on your telescope frosts up, you can use it to carefully remove the dew or frost.
You can also use it to warm your fingers. I�ve even stuck mine inside my coat to warm my frozen torso enough to go a little while longer. I�m sure this is a fire hazard, and you�ll probably read in the paper one day, �Michigan astronomer mysteriously ignites into flames, burning down observatory.�
8. If you take notes at the telescope like I do, keep your pen warm or the ink will freeze. I have one of those "astronaut pens". Even that froze at 20 below.
I keep my pens tucked behind my ear to keep them warm. All my observing hats have a distinct black ink spot on the inside lining, just behind my left ear, from me continuously sliding my pen in and out under my cap and over my ear for warm storage.
9. Use a plastic flashlight. If you are like most of my friends who read charts and log observations using a red flashlight, you put the flashlight in your mouth to write. On very cold nights, a metal flashlight can stick to your lip and be hard to remove without losing a bit of flesh.
Don�t laugh; I�ve seen it happen!
I suppose rule 9A should be, "don�t lick the telescope!"
If I ever see anyone get his or her tongue stuck to a frozen telescope, you�ll be the first to know!
10. Take breaks every hour or half hour, depending on the weather, and go warm up. Keep an extra pair of dry socks warming on the dash of your car, or go in and throw a pair in the dryer for a few minutes. It�s amazing how a nice toasty pair of socks can change your attitude!
I�ve received several pairs of electric socks for Christmas and birthdays over the years from well-meaning friends and family, but I�ve never been really impressed by them. Considering the number of batteries it takes to actually keep your feet warm, it�s just not worth it. Refer to rule #1. Wear warm boots.
11. Be aware of battery life in cold temperatures. The batteries in your flashlight, telescope, camera, dew heaters, etc., will perform poorly in cold temperatures. They�re smarter than me. They know when to quit. Keep warm extras handy.
12. Keep your own personal battery charged. Plenty of rest, a good meal, snacks and hot coffee go a long way towards warding off the inevitable freeze.
The search for a thermos that would keep coffee hot in sub-zero temperatures was my �Holy Grail� for a long time. After years of searching, I finally found one at a camping supply store. It cost a pretty penny, but it makes all the difference to me.
13. Know your limits. You have to be realistic about how much cold, discomfort or pain you are willing endure in order to get those last few observations. Don�t wait until it�s too late and then decide to tear down and pack up.
When you are really frozen, you fingers don�t work right, you move slower, you feel more tired than you normally would, and you can get careless, dropping things in the dark or forgetting how to pack your gear just so. All this means it is going to take you longer than usual to tear down.
That�s when you will meet Mr. Frostbite. It is better to take my word for it than to learn a painful lesson from him.
With a little planning and common sense you can take advantage of those long, clear, cold winter nights. Orion, Gemini and Taurus are calling. Just be careful out there.
Telescopic LPVs for New Visual Observers
Okay, so you�ve been observing some naked eye and binocular variables for a while. Good for you! The stars in the AAVSO Ten Star Training Program can be fun and rewarding to observe for a lifetime.
Maybe you were drawn in by the Citizen Sky project and now you�re getting hooked on variable stars. Hey, it happens; you are not alone. But epsilon Aurigae is in full eclipse now, and will remain faint for most of this year, so maybe you�re ready for some new stars to satisfy your new addiction.
Perhaps you already owned a telescope or you finally got that shiny new 8� Schmidt-Cassegrain you�ve had your eye on for Christmas. Now where do you look for interesting variables? I�ve got some suggestions for you. These are fun stars to observe, AAVSO still needs observations of these stars, and best of all, they are easy to find and identify, so you won�t spend cold winter nights looking for them. You can spend your time observing them instead!
R Aur- After you make your observation of epsilon Aurigae for the night, (because you should keep observing it all the way to the end of the epsilon Aur campaign!) use your telescope and finder to star hop over to this great long period variable. I think of this one as the �Pirate Star�, because its name is �Arr, Arr!�
There are plenty of magnitude 6 to 9 stars in the area to help point the way, making this one easy to find. Varying from 6.9-13.9V, it also happens to be an interesting double star! R Aur is on the rise from minimum right now, so it will get easier as winter turns to spring.
R Cas- This Mira gets as bright as 4.7, and can fade to 13.5. R Cas is currently on the rise from around 10th magnitude so it will be easy to observe all winter.
T Cas- When at or near maximum, this is one of the reddest stars you�ll ever see in the eyepiece. This Mira varies from 6.9-13.0V and has a very interesting light curve with multiple humps, perhaps indicating multiple periods. Currently around 9th magnitude, but is it rising or fading? Have fun following this one!
S Per- Sitting in a beautiful star field with plenty of 8th and 9th magnitude stars to point the way, this interesting semi-regular variable, varying from 7.9-12V, is somewhat unpredictable, so you never know what it will be doing next time you observe it.
W Tau- Located in the Hyades, just west of Aldebaran is a bright double star consisting of theta 1 and theta 2 Tau. In the same medium power field of view is W Tau, a semi-regular variable that ranges from 8.2-13.0V. The period is listed as approximately 165 days, but this star is unpredictable, and the light curve for the last 1200 days is chaotic. This, plus the fact it is easy to find and observe, makes W Tauri a fine catch on a cold winter night.
There you go; a half dozen stars to add to your variable star program. If you�re looking for more you can check out the Stars Easy to Observe list on the AAVSO website at http://www.aavso.org/easy-stars
If you run into trouble, or just want some friendly advice from an experienced observer, contact me at mikesimonsen at aavso dot org. I coordinate the AAVSO Mentor Program and I can hook you up with one of our great mentors to help give you a boost up the learning curve.
Perhaps you already owned a telescope or you finally got that shiny new 8� Schmidt-Cassegrain you�ve had your eye on for Christmas. Now where do you look for interesting variables? I�ve got some suggestions for you. These are fun stars to observe, AAVSO still needs observations of these stars, and best of all, they are easy to find and identify, so you won�t spend cold winter nights looking for them. You can spend your time observing them instead!
R Aur- After you make your observation of epsilon Aurigae for the night, (because you should keep observing it all the way to the end of the epsilon Aur campaign!) use your telescope and finder to star hop over to this great long period variable. I think of this one as the �Pirate Star�, because its name is �Arr, Arr!�There are plenty of magnitude 6 to 9 stars in the area to help point the way, making this one easy to find. Varying from 6.9-13.9V, it also happens to be an interesting double star! R Aur is on the rise from minimum right now, so it will get easier as winter turns to spring.
R Cas- This Mira gets as bright as 4.7, and can fade to 13.5. R Cas is currently on the rise from around 10th magnitude so it will be easy to observe all winter.
T Cas- When at or near maximum, this is one of the reddest stars you�ll ever see in the eyepiece. This Mira varies from 6.9-13.0V and has a very interesting light curve with multiple humps, perhaps indicating multiple periods. Currently around 9th magnitude, but is it rising or fading? Have fun following this one!
T Cas has humps like a camel in its light curve. What's up with that?
V Cas- This Mira has a pretty regular period of 228 days. Ranging from 6.9-13.4, V Cas is currently at minimum, so it will become easier to observe as winter progresses and it brightens.S Per- Sitting in a beautiful star field with plenty of 8th and 9th magnitude stars to point the way, this interesting semi-regular variable, varying from 7.9-12V, is somewhat unpredictable, so you never know what it will be doing next time you observe it.
W Tau- Located in the Hyades, just west of Aldebaran is a bright double star consisting of theta 1 and theta 2 Tau. In the same medium power field of view is W Tau, a semi-regular variable that ranges from 8.2-13.0V. The period is listed as approximately 165 days, but this star is unpredictable, and the light curve for the last 1200 days is chaotic. This, plus the fact it is easy to find and observe, makes W Tauri a fine catch on a cold winter night.
W Tau is close to a beautiful double star in the Hyades cluster. You gotta be able to find this one!
There you go; a half dozen stars to add to your variable star program. If you�re looking for more you can check out the Stars Easy to Observe list on the AAVSO website at http://www.aavso.org/easy-stars
If you run into trouble, or just want some friendly advice from an experienced observer, contact me at mikesimonsen at aavso dot org. I coordinate the AAVSO Mentor Program and I can hook you up with one of our great mentors to help give you a boost up the learning curve.
Visual vs CCD Observing
The AAVSO discussion forum has had some very interesting threads lately, but this one, Trends In Visual Observing, seems to have struck a chord with many people. The conversation starts out with the statistics on the number of visual observations submitted to AAVSO annually. In 2009, visual observers contributed a little more than half the number of observations submitted in 1999.
I�ve given a fair amount of thought to why my production has waned as a visual observer. It�s a complicated equation, and there are several factors with different amounts of influence. To be honest, I think I know what happened to me, but I don�t like to think about it because it makes me sad.
The Simoquation of Visual Observations
E + T + W + Pc
---------------------- = Nv
A + Nc + O
E -enthusiasm
T -available time to observe annually
W -weather (number of clear or partly cloudy nights annually)
Pc -perception of value
A -affects of aging
Nc -number of nights spent taking CCD data annually
O -other astronomical activities
Nv -number of visual observations reported annually
In the beginning, I had almost unlimited enthusiasm. The first five years were my most productive as I devised a system for observing as many CVs in a night as possible. My goal was to report 10,000 visual observations per year. If I averaged 100 observations 100 nights per year, it could be done, and that was the plan.
I achieved this dubious goal once, and had a few years of 7,500-9,500 or so. That commitment is approximately equal to a second full time job. It is a lot of work.
When the economy was good, I was able to survive on cruise control for several years. I could afford to invest more time to observing and losing sleep. As the economy tanked, it became necessary for me to invest a lot more time and effort into work, just to maintain the income I had settled for. So, while I still had the unbridled enthusiasm, my time was becoming more limited. I couldn�t stay up all night several nights in a row and still perform adequately at my job. I wasn�t getting any younger either.
Weather patterns, particularly in winter, have definitely played a role in the last three years. I used to do a lot of observing in November, January and March. May and December used to be the cloudiest months. Last year we had no clear nights from mid- November to March. This year has been almost the same. March 4 UT was the first time I had observed visually since November 22. Is this an anomaly or a pattern? I don�t know. But if it weren�t for AAVSOnet I�d have gone postal by now for sure.
My perception of the value of my visual observations has been all over the map. I used to think that thousands of negative CV observations were useful, especially if I was monitoring for rare outbursts of WZ Sge type dwarf novae or little studied systems. Not so much any more. I don�t think it�s particularly interesting to discover yet another UGSU in outburst so guys with CCDs can observe superhumps and determine a period. If it turns out to be a simple UG or UGSS nobody cares at all, even if it only goes into outburst once a decade.
That�s one of the reasons I decided to study Z Cams. There aren�t that many of them, and we don�t know that much about them. Observations done now might actually shed light on a new problem. Even there, the new discoveries probably will come from CCD data though. The stars in the visual range are well observed. They should continue to be observed, but that�s not a lot of stars.
I championed the �stars in need of observations� lists for a few years, but now I question whether they are worthy of the attention they are given. Just because AAVSO doesn�t have enough data to predict a maximum or minimum doesn�t have any scientific relevance at all. If we don�t have enough data to produce a decent light curve and no one is observing the star, and nobody is writing about it in the literature, who cares? It�s a star in need of ignoring. The effort and time spent on it is probably better spent maintaining the long established curves of stars we have excellent data for going back 100 years.
We keep hearing how there will be an ASAS north any day now, but it still isn�t online. Don�t believe it. They can barely keep ASAS south online on a consistent basis. The next generation of surveys will be observing fainter stars, so I don�t really see the surveys taking over for visual variable star observers. But they will be placing a great demand on observers to follow up new discoveries, and they will want CCD data. Nobody publishes papers based on visual observations any more unless they are dealing with archival projects and can�t find what they want on photographic plates.
If I were going to observe Miras and SRs, I would observe the ones in the Legacy Program and LPV Program Stars on the LPV section site, and maybe one or two special project stars for curiosity and fun. That�s plenty of great stars with excellent sequences to keep you busy forever. There is also a nice sample of LPVs with humps in their curves that I have always thought would be a great project. Frank Schorr has some great stuff on the LPV section site about these stars. Most are great visual targets for a modest sized telescope.
The EB and RR Lyrae people have made it pretty plain they aren�t interested in visual observations for their programs at all. Door closed- don�t knock.
Age has had its affects. I am far less inclined to suffer in order to obtain visual observations. Some nights I�ll only observe stars above +20 declination because that means I can sit in my nice cushy office chair for hours, instead of perching on a smaller adjustable seat or straining my back. I don�t usually have the energy or enthusiasm to do marathon all-nighters any more either. Three or four hours are about as much as I�m willing to endure. My goal used to be to do 100 observations minimum. Now my goal is not to ruin tomorrow by staying out too late tonight.
Continuously reading and learning more about variable star science and astronomy, and keeping up with the latest news and advances takes a significant investment of time. I also spend an almost equal amount of time writing about variable stars and astronomy for blogs, podcasts, newsletters and magazines these days. I like to think this doesn�t influence my ability or enthusiasm for observing, but deadlines have interfered in recent years.
Strangely enough, the more involved I am with AAVSO the fewer observations I make. Included in my �other astronomical activities� these days are the chart and sequence team, mentor program, CV section, speaker�s bureau, writer�s bureau and council activities, as well as all the things I do that are actually part of my job.
But for me personally, the biggest factors have been CCD observing and the piss poor pointing of my Meade 12" GPS LX200. The complexity, expense and time investment does not equal the amount of joy extracted for me. I resent the time I�ve had to invest in learning to observe and reduce CCD data in a scientific manner. It takes almost as much time to reduce the data as it does to take it, and there isn�t anything fun about it. I spend more time messing with equipment and computers and less time enjoying being out under the sky. I feel no connection to the cosmos observing with a CCD. I simply feel it is a necessary evil if I want to do science that anyone will take seriously.
But the pointing issues are the worst. That damn telescope has dampened my enthusiasm for observing altogether. If I'm observing visually I can deal with it to some extent, because its easier to slew up and over, or wherever I have to go to find the target. But trying to land 16th mag variables on the CCD chip on the first try is a joke. I waste so much time trying to get to the target that my night just becomes a giant headache. Every hour with the CCD and that stupid telescope is 25-30 observations I was robbed of at the eyepiece.
My goal is to have the best of both worlds, but that goal still eludes me. I want to be in the dome observing visually while the computer and CCD scope run essentially unattended in the roll off next door. I can think of enough worthwhile and fun visual things to do to keep me busy.
Some days I think I�d be better off burning down the roll off and simplifying my life. Other days I think it would be simpler to just cut the umbilical cord and go CCD all the way. My willingness to tolerate the cold and staying up late will probably be the deciding factor in the end. But I�m afraid my experience will be the poorer for it.
When you observe visually, the data is a byproduct of the experience you have at the eyepiece. When you observe with a CCD, the data becomes the thing. The wonder, magic, mystery, romance and beauty will be gone, as I sit in front of a computer monitor, determining the optimum size for an annulus around a comp star, for a time series of 300 observations I collected automatically, in a black box I bought online.
To each his own. But, if that sounds like fun to you, you are not a visual observer.
I�ve given a fair amount of thought to why my production has waned as a visual observer. It�s a complicated equation, and there are several factors with different amounts of influence. To be honest, I think I know what happened to me, but I don�t like to think about it because it makes me sad.
The Simoquation of Visual Observations
E + T + W + Pc
---------------------- = Nv
A + Nc + O
E -enthusiasm
T -available time to observe annually
W -weather (number of clear or partly cloudy nights annually)
Pc -perception of value
A -affects of aging
Nc -number of nights spent taking CCD data annually
O -other astronomical activities
Nv -number of visual observations reported annually
In the beginning, I had almost unlimited enthusiasm. The first five years were my most productive as I devised a system for observing as many CVs in a night as possible. My goal was to report 10,000 visual observations per year. If I averaged 100 observations 100 nights per year, it could be done, and that was the plan.
I achieved this dubious goal once, and had a few years of 7,500-9,500 or so. That commitment is approximately equal to a second full time job. It is a lot of work.
When the economy was good, I was able to survive on cruise control for several years. I could afford to invest more time to observing and losing sleep. As the economy tanked, it became necessary for me to invest a lot more time and effort into work, just to maintain the income I had settled for. So, while I still had the unbridled enthusiasm, my time was becoming more limited. I couldn�t stay up all night several nights in a row and still perform adequately at my job. I wasn�t getting any younger either.
Weather patterns, particularly in winter, have definitely played a role in the last three years. I used to do a lot of observing in November, January and March. May and December used to be the cloudiest months. Last year we had no clear nights from mid- November to March. This year has been almost the same. March 4 UT was the first time I had observed visually since November 22. Is this an anomaly or a pattern? I don�t know. But if it weren�t for AAVSOnet I�d have gone postal by now for sure.
My perception of the value of my visual observations has been all over the map. I used to think that thousands of negative CV observations were useful, especially if I was monitoring for rare outbursts of WZ Sge type dwarf novae or little studied systems. Not so much any more. I don�t think it�s particularly interesting to discover yet another UGSU in outburst so guys with CCDs can observe superhumps and determine a period. If it turns out to be a simple UG or UGSS nobody cares at all, even if it only goes into outburst once a decade.
That�s one of the reasons I decided to study Z Cams. There aren�t that many of them, and we don�t know that much about them. Observations done now might actually shed light on a new problem. Even there, the new discoveries probably will come from CCD data though. The stars in the visual range are well observed. They should continue to be observed, but that�s not a lot of stars.
I championed the �stars in need of observations� lists for a few years, but now I question whether they are worthy of the attention they are given. Just because AAVSO doesn�t have enough data to predict a maximum or minimum doesn�t have any scientific relevance at all. If we don�t have enough data to produce a decent light curve and no one is observing the star, and nobody is writing about it in the literature, who cares? It�s a star in need of ignoring. The effort and time spent on it is probably better spent maintaining the long established curves of stars we have excellent data for going back 100 years.
We keep hearing how there will be an ASAS north any day now, but it still isn�t online. Don�t believe it. They can barely keep ASAS south online on a consistent basis. The next generation of surveys will be observing fainter stars, so I don�t really see the surveys taking over for visual variable star observers. But they will be placing a great demand on observers to follow up new discoveries, and they will want CCD data. Nobody publishes papers based on visual observations any more unless they are dealing with archival projects and can�t find what they want on photographic plates.
If I were going to observe Miras and SRs, I would observe the ones in the Legacy Program and LPV Program Stars on the LPV section site, and maybe one or two special project stars for curiosity and fun. That�s plenty of great stars with excellent sequences to keep you busy forever. There is also a nice sample of LPVs with humps in their curves that I have always thought would be a great project. Frank Schorr has some great stuff on the LPV section site about these stars. Most are great visual targets for a modest sized telescope.
The EB and RR Lyrae people have made it pretty plain they aren�t interested in visual observations for their programs at all. Door closed- don�t knock.
Age has had its affects. I am far less inclined to suffer in order to obtain visual observations. Some nights I�ll only observe stars above +20 declination because that means I can sit in my nice cushy office chair for hours, instead of perching on a smaller adjustable seat or straining my back. I don�t usually have the energy or enthusiasm to do marathon all-nighters any more either. Three or four hours are about as much as I�m willing to endure. My goal used to be to do 100 observations minimum. Now my goal is not to ruin tomorrow by staying out too late tonight.
Continuously reading and learning more about variable star science and astronomy, and keeping up with the latest news and advances takes a significant investment of time. I also spend an almost equal amount of time writing about variable stars and astronomy for blogs, podcasts, newsletters and magazines these days. I like to think this doesn�t influence my ability or enthusiasm for observing, but deadlines have interfered in recent years.
Strangely enough, the more involved I am with AAVSO the fewer observations I make. Included in my �other astronomical activities� these days are the chart and sequence team, mentor program, CV section, speaker�s bureau, writer�s bureau and council activities, as well as all the things I do that are actually part of my job.
But for me personally, the biggest factors have been CCD observing and the piss poor pointing of my Meade 12" GPS LX200. The complexity, expense and time investment does not equal the amount of joy extracted for me. I resent the time I�ve had to invest in learning to observe and reduce CCD data in a scientific manner. It takes almost as much time to reduce the data as it does to take it, and there isn�t anything fun about it. I spend more time messing with equipment and computers and less time enjoying being out under the sky. I feel no connection to the cosmos observing with a CCD. I simply feel it is a necessary evil if I want to do science that anyone will take seriously.
But the pointing issues are the worst. That damn telescope has dampened my enthusiasm for observing altogether. If I'm observing visually I can deal with it to some extent, because its easier to slew up and over, or wherever I have to go to find the target. But trying to land 16th mag variables on the CCD chip on the first try is a joke. I waste so much time trying to get to the target that my night just becomes a giant headache. Every hour with the CCD and that stupid telescope is 25-30 observations I was robbed of at the eyepiece.
My goal is to have the best of both worlds, but that goal still eludes me. I want to be in the dome observing visually while the computer and CCD scope run essentially unattended in the roll off next door. I can think of enough worthwhile and fun visual things to do to keep me busy.
Some days I think I�d be better off burning down the roll off and simplifying my life. Other days I think it would be simpler to just cut the umbilical cord and go CCD all the way. My willingness to tolerate the cold and staying up late will probably be the deciding factor in the end. But I�m afraid my experience will be the poorer for it.
When you observe visually, the data is a byproduct of the experience you have at the eyepiece. When you observe with a CCD, the data becomes the thing. The wonder, magic, mystery, romance and beauty will be gone, as I sit in front of a computer monitor, determining the optimum size for an annulus around a comp star, for a time series of 300 observations I collected automatically, in a black box I bought online.
To each his own. But, if that sounds like fun to you, you are not a visual observer.
Simple, Exquisite Beauty
Making naked eye and observations for the Citizen Sky project has put me back in touch with the night sky on a level I didn�t realize I was missing.
Image credit: Rob Beaird http://robsreflections.wordpress.com/
On a typical clear night, I�ll spend anywhere from two to eight hours racing from one variable star field to another with the visual scope, under the protection of an observatory dome, or at the controls of my CCD telescope slewing and centering targets and watching images download on a computer screen from inside a warm room. I only see a small portion of the sky through the dome slot, eyepiece or on the monitor.
When a bright meteor flashes through the sky I rarely see it, unless I happen to be standing outside taking a break. I often don�t even know the weather is changing until the images in the eyepiece or on the screen start to deteriorate. Then I walk outside and look up to see if it�s a total wash out or just a passing cloud or two.
Now I find myself taking longer breaks from the telescope and spending some quiet time alone with the Universe. Just me and the night sky I fell in love with long ago. I�ve come to appreciate the simple majesty of those bright stars shining down on Earth just as they have for thousands of years. And over the course of the last year I�ve become familiar with several naked eye variables that I now keep track of.
I�ve followed an eclipse of Algol through the course of an evening. The first time I ever did it was at the AAVSO spring meeting in Nantucket, on the night we had the star party and tour of the Maria Mitchell Observatory. It was already halfway to minimum when I first noticed it, but I was able to follow it every half hour or so as it faded to minimum and then rose back to maximum. Clouds rolled in over the island in the early morning hours, so I didn�t get to see it back at full strength until the following night, but it made a lasting impression on me.
I�ve begun tracking the changes of delta and mu Cephei. Delta Cephei is the prototype of an entire class of astronomically significant variables. Cepheid variables are used to calibrate distances to far off stars and galaxies. Mu Cephei is also known as Herschel�s Garnet Star. It�s an orangish semi-regular variable that has been observed by variable star observers for over one hundred years.
As autumn approaches, the winter constellations are beginning to make their presence known again before dawn. I�ve spent a lot of time admiring the fiery bright winter constellations of Orion, Taurus, Gemini, and Auriga as they rise to fill the pre-dawn sky. I find myself fixing my gaze on eta Geminorum, Betelgeuse, Algol and epsilon Aurigae now, instead of racing from sideways �Y� of Taurus, through the Pleiades, up the curve of stars that is Perseus� lower branch through Auriga and on to Cassiopeia. Now I have little rest areas along the way.
A calmness and sense of satisfaction comes over me when life slows down and fills these moments with the perfect silence that is 5 o�clock in the morning. The sound of a hoot owl in a nearby tree reminds me I am not alone, and we share the view as dawn begins to break in the east. Swiftly and silently, a meteor streaks across the sky and I smile to myself, because I didn�t miss that one.
Image credit: Rob Beaird http://robsreflections.wordpress.com/On a typical clear night, I�ll spend anywhere from two to eight hours racing from one variable star field to another with the visual scope, under the protection of an observatory dome, or at the controls of my CCD telescope slewing and centering targets and watching images download on a computer screen from inside a warm room. I only see a small portion of the sky through the dome slot, eyepiece or on the monitor.
When a bright meteor flashes through the sky I rarely see it, unless I happen to be standing outside taking a break. I often don�t even know the weather is changing until the images in the eyepiece or on the screen start to deteriorate. Then I walk outside and look up to see if it�s a total wash out or just a passing cloud or two.
Now I find myself taking longer breaks from the telescope and spending some quiet time alone with the Universe. Just me and the night sky I fell in love with long ago. I�ve come to appreciate the simple majesty of those bright stars shining down on Earth just as they have for thousands of years. And over the course of the last year I�ve become familiar with several naked eye variables that I now keep track of.
I�ve followed an eclipse of Algol through the course of an evening. The first time I ever did it was at the AAVSO spring meeting in Nantucket, on the night we had the star party and tour of the Maria Mitchell Observatory. It was already halfway to minimum when I first noticed it, but I was able to follow it every half hour or so as it faded to minimum and then rose back to maximum. Clouds rolled in over the island in the early morning hours, so I didn�t get to see it back at full strength until the following night, but it made a lasting impression on me.
I�ve begun tracking the changes of delta and mu Cephei. Delta Cephei is the prototype of an entire class of astronomically significant variables. Cepheid variables are used to calibrate distances to far off stars and galaxies. Mu Cephei is also known as Herschel�s Garnet Star. It�s an orangish semi-regular variable that has been observed by variable star observers for over one hundred years.
As autumn approaches, the winter constellations are beginning to make their presence known again before dawn. I�ve spent a lot of time admiring the fiery bright winter constellations of Orion, Taurus, Gemini, and Auriga as they rise to fill the pre-dawn sky. I find myself fixing my gaze on eta Geminorum, Betelgeuse, Algol and epsilon Aurigae now, instead of racing from sideways �Y� of Taurus, through the Pleiades, up the curve of stars that is Perseus� lower branch through Auriga and on to Cassiopeia. Now I have little rest areas along the way.
A calmness and sense of satisfaction comes over me when life slows down and fills these moments with the perfect silence that is 5 o�clock in the morning. The sound of a hoot owl in a nearby tree reminds me I am not alone, and we share the view as dawn begins to break in the east. Swiftly and silently, a meteor streaks across the sky and I smile to myself, because I didn�t miss that one.
Avoiding Bias: Simonsen's Rules for Variable Star Observing
There has been some recent discussion on the Citizen Sky website about looking at the light curve or checking the quick look data of a star you are observing. The main concern revolves around observers having too much information, or a preconceived notion, before making an observation. We call this bias. The term biased is used to describe an action, judgment, or other outcome influenced by a prejudged perspective. In variable star observing, or any scientific investigation, bias is a bad thing.
Half the fun of variable star observing for me is precisely the fact that I don�t know what my favorite variable star is doing at any given moment for sure. It�s why I climb out of bed in the middle of the night in the winter to go observe them. I can�t wait to see what they are up to. If I already knew, or thought I knew, there would be no reason to lose sleep.
So the first part of my advice is simple- don�t look at the light curve or recent data on a variable star you plan to observe before you observe it. You risk biasing your observation, and you�re missing out on the fun. The science is usually the reason people start doing this, and the fun they discover along the way is why they keep doing it for years and years. To risk either is, well�stupid!
By all means, when you are done, and have reported your observation, go look at how it compares to other observers� data and see where it fits in the light curve. This is valuable feedback, you�re probably going to be quite happy with your result, and you can be proud of your contribution to science for the night.
If your observation looks different than other observers, don�t worry too much about that either. Don�t assume the other guy is a better, more experienced, more correct observer than you, even if he used a CCD or the Binford 9000 photometry device. He could be a half-blind, one-eyed village idiot for all you know. The other guy or gal might not even have been looking at the same star you were.
I was taught some basic rules for observing (a very long time ago) when I started out. These rules have been passed down from generation to generation, so they are not specifically mine, or necessarily original, but we shall hereby refer to them as �Simonsen�s Rules for Variable Star Observing.�
Rule #1- Be sure you are measuring the right star. Always be very conscientious when identifying the variable. There is nothing more useless than an observation of the wrong star!
Rule #2- Report exactly what you see, not what you think you should be seeing�period.
Rule #3- Bias is your enemy; avoid it. (see rule #2)
This may be difficult for some people, so here are some tips for overcoming your preconceived notions.
If you see the observations of some other observer(s) beforehand-
1. Assume they are lying to deceive you!
2. Know they are bad observers, so their opinion is worthless!
3. They could be, and probably are, completely crazy. How many variable star observers have you met? I rest my case.
If the bias is some personal belief, based on your own preconceived notion, realize that-
1. You are lying to yourself! (and now you are talking to yourself�hmm)
2. You are a bad observer (you should know!) and your opinion is worthless.
3. You are obviously schizophrenic � you are in fact crazy!
Rule #4- We never know for certain what a variable star will do from moment to moment. Therefore, you can never be certain what your star is doing at any given moment, that�s why we do this. This can be added to the reasons bias should be avoided.
Rule #5- Make every observation as if you are the only one looking at your star at this moment. You may not have to pretend. The number of variable star observers worldwide is so small this is often the case. You are special; don�t forget that.Rule #6- Have fun.
For astronomers, the universe is our laboratory. It�s beautiful, mysterious, impressive, awe-inspiring, and humbling, and it�s ours. Enjoy it.
Answering the Call
This morning at 3:20AM I nearly fell off my chair in the observatory...literally.
Most of you know by now that I am a variable star observer. I have a 12-inch telescope in a dome I use to monitor several hundred cataclysmic variables for outbursts visually, and another 12-inch telescope in a roll off roof observatory that has a CCD camera doing photometry, more or less automated.
The visual monitoring program is sort of the astronomical version of a Chinese fire drill. I start in the east and work my way west through the night going from one variable star to the next as fast as I can. I make an observation in 60-90 seconds, log it, and move on. The reason for the rush is, it's a numbers game.
Most cataclysmic variables are too faint to be seen at all in a 12-inch scope when they are quiescent, not in outburst. Only when they erupt do they become visible. Most of the stars I follow outburst brighter than 15th magnitude, typically in the 13's or 14's. Some, like SS Cygni, get a lot brighter in outburst, and can be seen with binoculars.
Outbursts can last days or weeks depending on the star, but the thing is, they are totally unpredictable and they do not wait for anyone. If you miss a rare outburst, you may not get another chance for years, or decades. In some cases, never again.
On any given night only a handful of these stars may actually be active, out of the hundreds known. So the only way to be sure to catch them as they go into outburst, and to increase your chances of catching that rare find, is to observe as many of them each clear night as possible. I try to do at least 100 observations per night.
The majority of visual observations I log in a night are negative detections. In other words, I didn't see the star. It's not in outburst, or it's too faint for me to detect yet. When I log the observation I note the name of the star, the time to the nearest minute and the magnitude of the faintest comparison star I can see. For me, the limiting magnitude is usually between 14.8 and 15.2. On moonlit nights or under hazy skies that may drop to 14.5 or less, and on really fine, clear, dry nights I may occasionally glimpse a 15.5 comp star briefly.
When I report the observation it is written as 'less than the magnitude of the faintest comp star' (<14 .8="" a="" aavso="" activity.="" and="" area="" as="" basically.="" better="" br="" by="" can="" cv="" easy="" email="" fainter="" from="" i="" in="" it="" limiting="" lists="" magnitude="" morning="" my="" next.="" night="" of="" one="" other="" out="" quality="" report="" s="" see="" several="" sky="" slew="" so="" submit="" tell="" that="" the="" to="" track="" type="" typical="" you="">
So, back to my story.
Around 2:30 I start observing in Andromeda, which is just about straight overhead. The star dots have shrunken down to fine points and the seeing has obviously improved a lot. As I examine the field of V402 And I'm stunned to see the 15.8 comp star plain as day. I've seen it on CCD images before, but never in the eyepiece. I move to the next field, LL And and I can see the 15.9 comp star easily with averted vision. I would have to image this field for 60 seconds with a CCD and V filter to measure a 15.9 star, and yet here it is in my Mark I eyeball! The sky has literally opened up for me and I am seeing things in the eyepiece I have not even glimpsed before. I log more than a dozen more record magnitudes over the next 45 minutes and also manage to catch several CVs in outburst.
It's just me, the telescope and the Universe sharing an exceptional night together when suddenly the peace is shattered by -- RING-RING...RING-RING...RING-RING!
My very loud cell phone is ringing at 3:20AM. The obnoxiousness of it startled me so much I nearly fell off my chair. As I fumble to find it in one of my pockets in the dark, terrible thoughts start to run through my head. Did someone fall ill, get rushed to the hospital or die? Is it Mom? Maybe something happened to Dad. I answer the phone with my flashlight still in my mouth.
"Hewowe?"
"Mike, is that you?" It's my brother Doug, and the first thing that pops into my head as I take the flashlight out of my mouth is 'he's in jail and needs me to come get him.'
"Yea" I say rather irritated.
"I'm surprised you answered".
"I'm surprised you called. What's wr..." I never get the rest out because Doug is in full blown talking mode now. It's a one-way street. His mouth opens up and his ears shut down.
"I'm outside looking up at the most incredible sky I've ever seen." (Tell me about it.)
"Mars is talking to me, I can see Pluto and that little-dipper-like-thingy" (the Pleiades) "and oh my God, it's just beautiful, Mike."
I try to tell him the name of the cluster and that Pluto can only be seen with a telescope, but he'll never remember. My brother is drunk dialing at 3:20 in the morning and I was stupid enough to answer the cell without looking at the caller ID. Crap!
So after a few more 'I love you, mans' we hang up and its me and the morning sky alone again. I made a note in my log, DOUG CALLED!, and proceeded back to the business at hand. After my nerves calmed down a bit I started to chuckle to myself, because he was right. It was a beautiful sky, he knew I'd be out there at the telescope, and he just wanted to share the moment with me, bless his heart.
I took a little time to get lost in the Orion Nebula in his honor, and debated with myself if it was worth trying to chase down the Horsehead Nebula. I quickly came to my senses and got back with the program. I was rewarded for my efforts with three Orion CVs in outburst in a row, CN Ori, V1159 Ori and BI Ori--the Trifecta! This really was a great night!
I finished up in Auriga and Gemini about an hour before dawn and came in to warm up, eat breakfast and submit my reports. Out of 116 CV observations, 20 were active or in outburst. The rest are hiding away, biding their time, waiting to present themselves on another fine night.
Note to self:
Turn the cell phone on 'vibrate' when out at the telescope.
Most of you know by now that I am a variable star observer. I have a 12-inch telescope in a dome I use to monitor several hundred cataclysmic variables for outbursts visually, and another 12-inch telescope in a roll off roof observatory that has a CCD camera doing photometry, more or less automated.The visual monitoring program is sort of the astronomical version of a Chinese fire drill. I start in the east and work my way west through the night going from one variable star to the next as fast as I can. I make an observation in 60-90 seconds, log it, and move on. The reason for the rush is, it's a numbers game.
Most cataclysmic variables are too faint to be seen at all in a 12-inch scope when they are quiescent, not in outburst. Only when they erupt do they become visible. Most of the stars I follow outburst brighter than 15th magnitude, typically in the 13's or 14's. Some, like SS Cygni, get a lot brighter in outburst, and can be seen with binoculars.
Outbursts can last days or weeks depending on the star, but the thing is, they are totally unpredictable and they do not wait for anyone. If you miss a rare outburst, you may not get another chance for years, or decades. In some cases, never again.
On any given night only a handful of these stars may actually be active, out of the hundreds known. So the only way to be sure to catch them as they go into outburst, and to increase your chances of catching that rare find, is to observe as many of them each clear night as possible. I try to do at least 100 observations per night.
The majority of visual observations I log in a night are negative detections. In other words, I didn't see the star. It's not in outburst, or it's too faint for me to detect yet. When I log the observation I note the name of the star, the time to the nearest minute and the magnitude of the faintest comparison star I can see. For me, the limiting magnitude is usually between 14.8 and 15.2. On moonlit nights or under hazy skies that may drop to 14.5 or less, and on really fine, clear, dry nights I may occasionally glimpse a 15.5 comp star briefly.
When I report the observation it is written as 'less than the magnitude of the faintest comp star' (<14 .8="" a="" aavso="" activity.="" and="" area="" as="" basically.="" better="" br="" by="" can="" cv="" easy="" email="" fainter="" from="" i="" in="" it="" limiting="" lists="" magnitude="" morning="" my="" next.="" night="" of="" one="" other="" out="" quality="" report="" s="" see="" several="" sky="" slew="" so="" submit="" tell="" that="" the="" to="" track="" type="" typical="" you="">
So, back to my story.
Around 2:30 I start observing in Andromeda, which is just about straight overhead. The star dots have shrunken down to fine points and the seeing has obviously improved a lot. As I examine the field of V402 And I'm stunned to see the 15.8 comp star plain as day. I've seen it on CCD images before, but never in the eyepiece. I move to the next field, LL And and I can see the 15.9 comp star easily with averted vision. I would have to image this field for 60 seconds with a CCD and V filter to measure a 15.9 star, and yet here it is in my Mark I eyeball! The sky has literally opened up for me and I am seeing things in the eyepiece I have not even glimpsed before. I log more than a dozen more record magnitudes over the next 45 minutes and also manage to catch several CVs in outburst.
It's just me, the telescope and the Universe sharing an exceptional night together when suddenly the peace is shattered by -- RING-RING...RING-RING...RING-RING!
My very loud cell phone is ringing at 3:20AM. The obnoxiousness of it startled me so much I nearly fell off my chair. As I fumble to find it in one of my pockets in the dark, terrible thoughts start to run through my head. Did someone fall ill, get rushed to the hospital or die? Is it Mom? Maybe something happened to Dad. I answer the phone with my flashlight still in my mouth.
"Hewowe?"
"Mike, is that you?" It's my brother Doug, and the first thing that pops into my head as I take the flashlight out of my mouth is 'he's in jail and needs me to come get him.'
"Yea" I say rather irritated.
"I'm surprised you answered".
"I'm surprised you called. What's wr..." I never get the rest out because Doug is in full blown talking mode now. It's a one-way street. His mouth opens up and his ears shut down.
"I'm outside looking up at the most incredible sky I've ever seen." (Tell me about it.)"Mars is talking to me, I can see Pluto and that little-dipper-like-thingy" (the Pleiades) "and oh my God, it's just beautiful, Mike."
I try to tell him the name of the cluster and that Pluto can only be seen with a telescope, but he'll never remember. My brother is drunk dialing at 3:20 in the morning and I was stupid enough to answer the cell without looking at the caller ID. Crap!
So after a few more 'I love you, mans' we hang up and its me and the morning sky alone again. I made a note in my log, DOUG CALLED!, and proceeded back to the business at hand. After my nerves calmed down a bit I started to chuckle to myself, because he was right. It was a beautiful sky, he knew I'd be out there at the telescope, and he just wanted to share the moment with me, bless his heart.
I took a little time to get lost in the Orion Nebula in his honor, and debated with myself if it was worth trying to chase down the Horsehead Nebula. I quickly came to my senses and got back with the program. I was rewarded for my efforts with three Orion CVs in outburst in a row, CN Ori, V1159 Ori and BI Ori--the Trifecta! This really was a great night!
I finished up in Auriga and Gemini about an hour before dawn and came in to warm up, eat breakfast and submit my reports. Out of 116 CV observations, 20 were active or in outburst. The rest are hiding away, biding their time, waiting to present themselves on another fine night.
Note to self:
Turn the cell phone on 'vibrate' when out at the telescope.
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