Binocular Blessings

Every summer I’m reminded that amateur astronomy doesn’t have to begin with a telescope. In fact, some of my fondest observing memories come from evenings years ago from family vacations in Maine. The boys were young and after they were tucked in for the night, I’d slip out to the porch overlooking the lake and settle into a chair. The ambience was peaceful and calm, punctuated by the occasional splash from a small mouth bass or haunting loon call. The Milky Way hung above the lake in the east with a view that spoke of God’s majesty. With nothing more than a pair of 7×50 binoculars that I had packed, I’d sweep those summer celestial vistas – clusters , nebulae, even a few galaxies – and feel the quiet satisfaction of discovering the sky one small field at a time.

Why Binoculars Work So Well for Beginners

Although I was hardly a beginning amateur astronomer in those days, until that time I really did not have the appreciation of their worth. Binoculars are instant astronomy. No alignment. No cooldown. No setup. You step outside and you’re observing.

They also match how we naturally use our eyes – both open, scanning, comparing, noticing patterns. The wide field of view makes the sky feel familiar rather than intimidating. You’re not hunting for tiny objects in a narrow eyepiece; you’re exploring.

And they’re affordable. A perfectly serviceable 7×50 like the Celestron Cometron runs around $50, while more serious observers can step up to something like the SkyMaster Pro ED with BaK‑4 prisms and ED glass. Either way, you’re spending far less than even an entry‑level telescope.

But the real magic is what you can see.

A Backyard Night Under Bortle 8 Skies

As part of my research on how well binoculars can work for an observer wrestling with light pollution, I spent a late June evening in my Towson backyard – a Bortle 8 environment with porch lights, trees, and a limiting naked‑eye magnitude around 4.25. Hardly pristine. But – could my trusty 7x50 binoculars still show me some of the celestial showpieces?

From my observing notes:

“Started off with some double stars… Alberio is quite hard to discern… but a better one is that double near the blinking planetary of Cygnus… the brighter one definitely appears to have an orangish tint… the secondary is white, perhaps a slight bluish tint.”

Even in suburban light, color contrast doubles pop beautifully. The Cygnus 30–31 pair — one orange supergiant, one white‑blue giant — is especially rewarding.

“Moving on to the double‑double in Lyra… very easy and clean to split… equal in magnitude and color, whiteness, with brilliant Vega in the field.”

Epsilon Lyrae is a perfect binocular target: bright, easy to find, and visually striking.

A little after midnight, the deep‑sky objects began to reveal themselves:

“Using the 7×50s for M13… you can definitely see two stars and a chubby little cloud… doable with the 7×50s, but in the 15×70s it is quite apparent and easy.”

“Following the tail of Aquila… M11 can be discerned as a tiny fuzzy patch… and again, far more apparent in the 15×70s.”

“Broche’s Cluster… the 15×70s picked it up readily… in the 7×50s you can definitely make out the coathanger asterism.”

“Above the teapot… M8… a fuzzy something in the 7×50s, more distinct in the 15×70s.”

These are exactly the kinds of objects that reward beginners: bright clusters, colorful doubles, recognizable asterisms, and nebulae that appear as soft glows rather than faint whispers.

Sharing the Views

A few nights after that backyard session, I brought my 15×70 Oberwerk binoculars to the HAL public star party and set them up on a mount so visitors could enjoy a steady view. It turned into one of the most rewarding outreach evenings I’ve had in a while. People were genuinely surprised at what a simple pair of binoculars could do – the Moon’s craters sharp and bright, Epsilon Lyrae cleanly split into its twin “headlights,” and M13 hanging there as a distant, ancient ball of unresolved starlight. Many had never looked through binoculars for astronomy before, and seeing their reactions – that mix of delight and amazement – was a reminder of how powerful these simple instruments can be for opening the sky to newcomers.

Binoculars offer something telescopes often don’t: confidence. You learn the sky faster. You recognize patterns. You begin to understand how objects relate to one another. And you get immediate success – something every beginner needs. Even for us veteran star gazers, an evening in the lounge chair with a pair of binoculars to scan the sky makes observing less of a technical challenge and more of a simple pleasure.

I still think back to that Maine porch experience, spending hours with a simple pair of binoculars discovering the summer sky one field at a time, being surprised at just how much I could pick out from that dark sky. My hope is that more folks could discover the heavens, and binoculars are one of the best ways I know of to begin that journey.

Something to Crow About

There is real joy when the pleasant spring weather sets in, providing evenings of cool temperatures that I can tolerate with only a light jacket but the bugs cannot. Our garden spotlight softly illuminates the beautiful azalea newly flush with coral colored blossoms and the nearby deep purple irises. The distinctive clink of an aluminum bat connecting with a pitch let's me know that nearby Towson University is having a game this evening. Well, that and their stadium lights lighting up the tippy top of the trees in the field behind my house is also a dead giveaway. 

After setting up the scope I minimize what light pollution that I can by turning off the yard lights. This evening I'm hunting Crow - some celestial highlights of Corvus as he wings his way towards a midnight rendezvous with the meridian. As my night vision slowly improves I struggle a bit to discern the outline, a geometric pattern of half a dozen 2nd-4th magnitude stars. 

The first stop is an eye-catching asterism known as the Stargate. Lying roughly a degree southwest of M104, there is a good chance you may have already stumbled upon it when looking for the Sombrero galaxy. One could probably sweep it up in a star hop by extending a line from k Virginis and Spica westward about 12°, but I take the easy way out and key in the coordinates. At times with a computerized mount you feel like Picard on the Enterprise, barking out the location and issuing a "make it so!" pronouncement. 

At low power in the 10" Newtonian it is delightful - a triangle of stars within a triangle, each having one of the triad much fainter than the other two. Not really seeing any color here but the arrangement is very cool. A little higher power makes it easier to see the fainter members of each of the dual triangles. So what the heck is a "stargate"? Well, near as I can tell, this is a reference to the spaceship portal used in the 80's sci-fi series Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. Hey - if the Greeks can fashion a crow from a trapezoid on a stilt then a "stargate" ain't half bad!

From an easy asterism I go in search of my next objective - planetary nebula NGC 4361, an entry in the Herschel 400 list. If you can see the top of Corvus' trapezoid it would likely be fairly easy to target this with a Telrad. However, the scope is well-aligned so I succumb to the GoTo siren and ask it to do the work for me. I inspect the field at 25mm without any filter, but there's no sign of anything unusual in the eyepiece. Adding the Lumicon UHC and studying the area once more leads me to believe that there is a faint dab of light when using averted vision. Taking the magnification up to 95x with the 16mm + UHC filter darkens the background a bit more and makes me far more certain that I’ve got this 11th magnitude planetary. I use my makeshift drape/balaclava to block out extraneous light in hopes of getting a better look and maybe even catch the central star which is an incredibly hot Wolf-Rayet star, checking in at 270,000° Kelvin (compared to our Sun at about 5,700° K). While I can see the glowing orb a little better it fails to tease out the nebula's progenitor. The nebula appears circular and fairly evenly illuminated, perhaps twice the size of Jupiter. While given the moniker of "The Water Sprinkler" based on images of it that show internal detail, in my scope I discern a faint, glowing orb best seen with averted vision and lacking any structure. The field it is set in is very sparse, made more so due to the use of the UHC filter.

Next in my Corvian exploration is S1604 (Struve catalog entry #1604), one of the targets listed in the AL's Double Star program. This double is not in a very friendly star-hopping  location with multiple other similar stars near it and no solid anchor point to start from. It isn't listed among the keypad’s roster of double stars, so I do a quick lookup of the RA and Dec and key the coordinates. Having expended the effort at the outset of the session to get a good alignment pays dividends as the scope dutifully moves to the spot. Looking over the field at 25mm there are a couple of candidate suns that may be the target, and I think I see one of them as a double. Bringing the magnification up to 156x and revisiting each one I quickly confirm the right one. S1604 reveals itself as a splendid triple system that closely replicates a right angle. The two comes are very close in magnitude with the brighter one making a N-S alignment (PA ~0°) and the other E-W (PA ~90°) with the primary. This is curious, as Burnham's Celestial Handbook lists the position angles as 91° and 73°, clearly at odds with what I am seeing (and what is listed in the AL Double Star program list). Why the difference - is it an errata in Burnham's? I find it hard to accept that the stars changed position that much (especially given one of them is believed to be an optical alignment rather than a true common pair). Not sure that I am picking up any color here, although the faintest of the trio might have a ruddier glow to it.

Saving the most challenging for last, I set off for the Antennae galaxies - NGC 4038 and 4039. This duo of roughly 10th magnitude interacting galaxies should be doable in a 10" telescope, but the challenge becomes plucking them out from the bad light pollution. While the GoTo had been doing very well, for this item I decided to use my star hopping skills to have certainty that I was over the target. Locating TY Crv lying west and midway between g and e Corvi, I nudge the scope northeast until I encounter the 8½ and 9½ magnitude pair of SAO 157047 157046. From there it’s almost due north to HD 104496 and SAO 157048 where the galaxies should be found more or less midway between these two stars. I navigate the route with a high degree of confidence, reaching the endpoint and earnestly scanning the eyepiece field. Alas, there is nothing there to greet me. I check carefully with the 16mm and then the 9.7mm eyepiece, and then repeat the process using the Baader Moon & Skyglow filter. I even grab the balaclava once more to shield my eyes from extraneous light, but there is simply nothing to be had. Perhaps another, clearer evening, or waiting to try in early morning hours next winter, would bear fruit. Sadly the light pollution wins this round.

Star hopping to the Antennae

It's been a very satisfying evening under the stars with my feathered friend. While I'm tempted to continue looking for other spring objects in the area I decide to pack things up since I'll need to be at work in the morning. And that is part of the beauty of our hobby, the heavens (usually) will offer you another opportunity to explore its wonders, even amid suburban skies.

Regal Gems

One of the best aspects of amateur astronomy is the rhythm of the seasons as reflected in the night sky. As we move deeper into fall we have the return of the familiar "W" asterism in the northern sky - Queen Cassiopeia. The constellations that we bid goodbye to in spring now return. It’s like visiting a familiar vacation spot - we want to see those tourist attractions but we also relish a chance for new road trips and opportunities to experience new vistas.

Like any proper monarch our queen is adorned with jewelry – open cluster are littered across the confines of this constellation. We often think of the northern terminus of the Milky Way to coincide with Cygnus, but that perspective arises from residing in the east coast light corridor. Even when we slip away to darker skies it is rare to get a good appreciation of the winter Milky Way as it flows through Cassiopeia and Auriga. I recall many years ago my friends Bill and Doris Burbridge had a place in western Maryland that they observed from. They invited several of us up one October evening for some observing. Perhaps it was just a night of wonderful transparency coupled with minimal light pollution but the sky was stunning. You readily saw the winter Milky Way, and clusters that I had to tease out from Towson were screaming their presence. Evenings like those constitute an astro-high that we photon junkies of the universe constantly want to recreate!

Setting up in my driveway I am confronted by the realities of suburban living as I strain to see Kappa, the faintest of the six stars that outline the queen’s seat in the heavens. I align the mount and set my 80mm Vixen upon it. First stop this evening is a visit to my friend the Owl, a.k.a. NGC 457. This fun cluster is bright, an easy star hop, and has more than enough stars in it to be readily recognized as an open cluster. The two brightest stars form the eyes of the wise bird, and the fainter members to the northwest constitute body and outstretched wings.

NGC 457

The avian eyes, Phi¹ and Phi² are not only beautiful but amazing suns. Phi¹ is actually a yellow supergiant (bordering on hypergiant) that is some 65 times larger than our Sol and, according to Hipparcos data, an absolute magnitude of -7.8! Think about that for a moment – that value represents an object 40x brighter than how Venus appears to us. For comparison Sol has an absolute magnitude of 4.8, so in a sky where all stars are placed at the same distance from the observer, Phi¹ is an incredible beacon that’d be easy to see in our daytime sky, while our Sun would be lost in the light pollution from most of our region. That’s one heck of a star! The companion star (not a true double) is a blue supergiant checking in at some 83,000 times more luminous than our Sun. So together the Owl’s gaze represents stellar furnaces of a scale that we humans find hard to truly appreciate.
I admire the cluster at 30x, a beautiful object set amid a wonderful star field. I think I can see a slight yellow cast to Phi¹ but it may be my imagination. There are probably close to two dozen cluster members that make up our feathered friend in my eyepiece. I have my camera prepped and ready to go so I take the time to grab several 25 sec shots that can be my indoor entertainment on a cloudy night as I process them.

The next item I want to attempt is NGC 7790, an open cluster NW of Beta Cassiopeiae that I saw years ago working the Herschel 400 list using my 6” reflector. As I recall it was small but pleasantly rich. I’m just not sure I can snare it from this location with my 80mm refractor but it seems worth a try. As I am panning the area in my quest I see another old friend pass through the field. This queen of ours has placed two gems – a sapphire and a ruby – together in her collection of double stars. Known as WZ Cassiopeiae, the primary is a ruddy 7th magnitude carbon star while the companion lying about an arc-minute due east is an 8th magnitude spectral class B (as in blue) star. The relative closeness in magnitudes, the easy separation, but especially the red-blue contrast – all add up to make WZ a fabulous if unsung double star. I linger on it, trying different magnifications to see which eyepiece gives the most aesthetic result. Smaller aperture scopes usually do not have enough light gathering power to do color justice, so I’m really pleasantly surprised how well WZ holds up under a smaller instrument. I decide to swap in the camera again to grab a few shots of my colorful friend.

WZ Cas

Back to my search for NGC 7790. I pan the region, critically examining each field for hints of a cluster. Finally I notice something – a small patch that is exhibiting that ultimate tease of barely showing some stars with averted vision but never robustly enough to allow you to position them in a sketch. This has to be a cluster, likely my quarry. It does have one star that can be seen, perhaps 9-10th magnitude, on the cluster’s trailing edge. The body appears as an ellipse of unresolved nebulosity that is at least partially, if not entirely, based in faint stars just beyond the aperture’s reach. With clusters like these it is easy to understand how over a century ago astronomers were suffering from aperture fever in an effort to prove that all nebulae were collections of unresolved stars. How fortunate for us they were wrong and we instead have a far more interesting universe to explore. I sketch the view of this attractive cluster for later confirmation and then start to break down the equipment due to the hour and my body saying it’d had quite enough cold weather observing for one evening.

In hindsight I wish I had grabbed a shot or two of this one as well, because when I went to confirm it the (ahem!) stars didn’t align. Ok, so what was it then? Well I likely need to revisit and grab a better sketch or a couple images but I’m thinking I landed on next door open cluster NGC 7788. It has the same orientation and, most importantly, that single bright star on its trailing boundary. So that’s my working theory and good excuse to observe again the next opportunity I get.

This serendipitous uncovering of a new (for me) cluster served to highlight how there are often little treasures out there that we pass by either in our haste to get to the main target or simply because we didn’t know to look for something. A few days after my session Richard Orr posted his observation of NGC 436, an open cluster below the feet of the Owl. (Richard also gave a vigorous defense of NGC 457 being a Dragon Fly – but certainly an Owl is a far more regal creature for Queen Cassiopeia!). His posting made me realize I had overlooked it while soaking in NGC 457. It was clearly in view – the picture serves as incriminating evidence of my oversight. So now I have yet another item for my agenda the next clear night – observe NGC 436 with intent!

Eta Cassiopeia

Object: Eta Cassiopeia
Constellation: Cas
Type: Double Star
Date and Time: Jan 6, 2007 00:30 UT
Conditions: Partly cloudy, 60°, light winds
Instrumentation: 60mm refractor, 10mm (80x)
Rating
Targeting: 3
Visibility: 2
Wow: 0
Interest: 1
Total rating: 6
Comments: This double is easy to locate near Alpha Cassiopeiae and is fairly obvious as a double at 80x. The secondary is a good deal fainter (7.5) and colorless compared to the significantly brighter primary (3.4) which appears to have a bit of a yellowish – orange tone. PA guesstimate was 330°, actual is 307°. Sparse field stars accompany it. This primary is apparently pretty similar to Sol and so offers you the perspective of what our own star would look like ~19 light years away.
Sketch: