An Autumn Grab Bag

Overall the past 4+ months have not been kind to amateur astronomers in my area. There seemed to be an above average number of cloudy evenings, and those that were clear often had a haze triggered by smoke drifting down from Canadian wildfires. So to say that the return of some cooler, crisp fall evenings was most welcome is probably an understatement. 

Jupiter and Saturn took some of my attention, but I also made time to check in on some targets among the Astronomical League's Urban List in my ongoing assessment of how easily they can be spotted from suburban skies that suffer from significant light pollution.

August 19, 2023 
Sky: Mostly clear, temps ~65° F, light winds
Transparency: 7/10    
Seeing: 5/10
Limiting Magnitude: 3.2

NGC 6818 
Planetary Nebula in Sagittarius
10” f/6 Newt   15mm Plossl  CGX-L Mount  

It took a 4-star alignment process to get the mount's GoTo working accurately enough to ensure that it was landing on targets with good accuracy, but that was a prerequisite given the light pollution in the southeast where my chosen target lies. But it was worth it, as once I peered into the 25mm eyepiece it was apparent as a small, uniformly round orb with perhaps a slight blue tint to it amid a handful of field stars. Popping in the 15mm enhanced the view of the planetary. There was no structure such as an annulus that I could discern, and it sported an even distribution of light. While a little faint, it bore direct vision well, even without a UHC filter. Alternating between direct and indirect vision yielded no evidence of the central star.

NGC 6934
Globular Cluster in Delphinus
10” f/6 Newt   15mm Plossl  CGX-L Mount  

I know that I have seen this DSO before with my 6” RV-6, but that observation is lost among the many that have gone by the wayside. I wish I had been better about archiving them for later access.

When inspecting the field with the 42mm once the scope completed its slew there was no sign of the globular. I did not tarry long before switching to the 25mm eyepiece with the Baader Moon & Skyglow filter, which revealed it immediately. I followed up with the 15mm which gave a good view of this globular. The field has stars that form roughly an “arrow” asterism pointing to the east. And the globular lies along the shaft of the arrow on the side closest to its apex. It is perhaps 4-5’ in size and can take direct vision but is improved with averted. No resolution of the member stars was noted. The globular is circular and has surprisingly even illumination – no sign of a brighter core discerned in the observation this evening.

September 3, 2023 
Sky: Thin haze, temps ~85° F, calm
Transparency: 7/10    
Seeing: 7/10
Limiting Magnitude: 3.2

IC 4756
Open Cluster in Ophiuchus
6” f/8 Newt  TV 25mm Plossl  HEM27 Mount

Once I verified the HEM27 was working well I decided to target this open cluster. I slewed to Rasalhague and then did a center operation to ensure the hop over to the cluster would be on target. And indeed, as soon as I peered in the eyepiece with the 42mm I could see a loose, large cluster of stars.

Bumping the magnification up to the 25mm came close to filling the field, implying the cluster size at about ¾ degree. There is one bright anchor star, perhaps 7^th or 6^th magnitude, in the south of the cluster – no color noted in it or any of the other members of this cluster. The other members range in brightness from about 8^th magnitude down to limit of visibility. All told about 40 stars are seen, but there is no nebulosity hinting at any mass of unresolved members. Very nice cluster and would be worth checking again under darker skies.

NGC 6709
Open Cluster in Aquila
6” f/8 Newt  8mm TMB  HEM27 Mount

Once the scope finished its slew I checked the area with the 25mm TeleVue Plossl, and my attention was drawn quickly to an eye-catching triple set of stars. West of it seemed to have a slightly above average number of stars, but nothing that screamed “I’m a cluster”!

Dropping in the 8mm TMB I see a few more stars and a dim fourth sun joins that pretty trio. I do a quick online check to verify that I am on the cluster, easily confirmed by the trio-plus-one showpiece of the field. As my night vision adapts, I see perhaps about 15 stars that may be cluster members in what is a coarse and not very rich offering. No hints of any nebulosity, and none of the stars depart from the standard white color. It is small, perhaps 10-15’ in size. While it may be really nice in darker skies, I'd be inclined to drop this one from the Urban List. 

Lessons From an Owl - Part I

For a while now I have been revisiting the objects on the Astronomical League's Urban list using my 80mm Vixen refractor from my driveway. This began out of my curiosity as to what an observer with a modest scope amid significant light pollution might be able to see. Certainly the big & bold stuff would be easy pickings, but after that, where's the limit as to how subtle an object can be bagged?

Bortle 8 Skies from Towson

 

Of course, the first benchmark on visibility that any amateur astronomer invokes is the brightness of the target, i.e. it's magnitude. There are handy charts and online tools that calculate the faintest magnitude star that one can possibly see for a given telescope aperture. Out in the field there will be a host of other factors that influence that value - the most obvious one being just how aggressive the artificial sky glow is at your location. But things from the condition of the scope (clean optics, alignment) to your age will also affect your limiting magnitude.

As the observer quickly learns, magnitude is only half the story when predicting visibility of a non-stellar target. Size is a critical consideration since the given magnitude is going to be more or less spread out across the object. This is why although galaxy M33 is one of the few galaxies above 6th magnitude, it is also notoriously hard to spot from suburban settings because it has that light spread out over 60'x30'. Surface brightness, the average per arcsecond (or arcminute) magnitude for the target, attempts to level the playing field when  ranking the relative brightness of a deep sky object.

Based on some of my observations thus far (below), M97, the famed "Owl" planetary nebula located in the bowl of the Big Dipper, presented as a DSO that might be doable. Some objects fainter than its 21.88 surface brightness had been visible, while one brighter specimen - reflection nebula M78 in Orion - had failed to materialize. Could I capture the Owl? 

The first spring evening of 2021 turned out clear and with reasonable temperature. I decided to set up for an observing session, even with a waxing fat crescent Moon hanging in the sky. Since this evening coincided with the first HAL public virtual star party I set up my phone nearby and listened in as I went through the alignment process. Jim Johnson provided some celestial mechanics relative to the Moon as it traverses the ecliptic throughout the year while getting it centered for viewing. Victor Sanchez took a turn and shared a colorful image of the Orion Nebula using his equipment. It was as if I had the company of fellow observers as I embarked on my quest for the Owl.

https://freestarcharts.com/messier-97

 

With a good alignment obtained I drop in my 9.7mm Plossl with UHC filter and bid the mount to slew over to Dubhe to ensure sharp focus, and then slip over to the nearby Owl. As expected, there was nothing there at first glance except a few dim field stars. Time to apply the tricks and techniques that I've picked up over the years. First up is draping a dark pillow case over my head to shield my eyes from neighbors' house lights. Then it is a matter of just relaxing and allowing my dark vision to gradually improve. I shift my focus to various points in the field so that my averted vision has multiple opportunities to notice anything. When that fails I turn to using the controls to nudge the field a bit, hoping the well camouflaged Owl face will give itself away if it moves slightly. 

After perhaps 10 minutes of effort it is time for the next tactic and I boost the magnification slightly with an 8mm TMB eyepiece. I again start off at Dubhe for a focus check and then swing over to where M97 should be. The same now familiar field stars are there to greet me while the planetary still refuses to emerge. I begin my stalking routine again and then it happens. I think I see something there to the right of the three brighter field stars! I spend the next five minutes directing my focus to various points in the field in an effort to give my averted vision its fullest advantage. Finally I am convinced enough that the faint, shapeless specter is indeed M97 and not just imagination. Success!

The elusive Owl Nebula captured!

 As I work up a sketch of the Owl I notice that it becomes a little easier to see. This is likely because drawing an object involves some study, allowing your brain & eye collaboration to bring out the more subtle features of the field. But even given that, M97 remains an averted vision only object, impossible for me to honestly comment on size or form given its tenuous nature.

Out of curiosity I decide to push things a little and add a 2x Barlow into the optical path. A quick refocus on Dubhe and I'm off to the Owl again. This time I am able to see the glow a bit more readily, enough that I can judge that it is more or less round in shape. It's still an averted vision only object, but the higher magnification seems to darken the background a bit and make the planetary slightly easier to see. 

The Owl had been a challenging target, possibly at the limit of what I can do in terms of this equipment and location. I saw yet again that surface brightness does not provide an infallible predictor of whether an object can be seen, only an estimate (something I plan to explore in part II). But without question this observing session served to reinforce some of the best practices when trying to pluck a DSO from skies bathed in city lights:

• Guard your dark adaptation, even if your neighbors may think you're a bit weird sitting in your driveway with a pillow case over your head.
  
  
• Averted vision should be applied thoroughly and systematically when inspecting the field.
  
  
• Just as a camouflaged animal gives itself away when moving, inducing a little movement in the field can sometimes unveil a faint target.
  
  
• Contrast is crucial. To that end a light pollution filter (UHC, OIII) can improve the view if the target is an emission nebula and bright enough to overcome the light loss caused by the filter. Boosting the magnification is another way to enhance the contrast and will work regardless of object.
  
  
• Patience - above all, patience! Study the entire field carefully, giving each section a few moments of attention and then review them again. While our eyes don't build up an image over time like a CCD, your eye & brain do collaborate to gradually reveal dimmer objects as you spend time at the eyepiece.

 

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!

Snowball Fight

One of my current astronomy projects is to tackle the Astronomical League's Urban List from home using my Vixen 80mm refractor. The program was created about 20 years ago and is designed to suggest a variety of celestial showpieces that should be doable under suburban or even urban venues.

For certain 2018 has been challenging to get out under the stars - near record rainfall and of course the clouds that come with it have given fewer opportunities. Last night my CSC predicted so-so observing conditions but when I stepped outside the skies were pretty crisp and clear - time to get a little observing in!

About a week ago I went in search of NGC 7662 in Andromeda (a.k.a. the "Blue Snowball"). I've picked up this 8th magnitude planetary many times before in both my 6" and 10" reflectors. The biggest challenge is usually the star hop with no nearby stars easily visible, at least where I live. The Great Square of Pegasus is almost always visible, and on most nights I can also pick out Omicron Andromeda (mag 3.6). So the plan of attack was a triangle with the northern side of the Great Square as its base, Omicron my helper to set the height. Looked like a can't fail plan.

Telrad Attack on NGC 7662

Famous last words. I spent well over an hour in search for that little fuzz ball, sweeping at both 30x and 60x over fields where it should be. Made sure I had my "distance glasses" on when sighting the Telrad. Checked the Telrad alignment. Raised the height of the tripod a little to make it easier on my neck. Plenty of pretty pinpricks of light but nary a chubby star that could be my snowball.

I figured I would give it one more go but would change the technique, this time equipping myself with charts that could let me hop to Iota Andromedae and then cascade down the couple of degrees to my planetary, using stars SAO 53202, 53151, and 53039 to pull right up to the Blue Snowball.

It's a great fall evening as I set up the equipment, cool and clear. I can just barely see Kappa with averted vision and glasses on, but I'm able to get it centered. Just as I do I catch a voice from the street "Wow - is that a telescope?" I look up to see a young man - in shorts and a t-shirt as opposed to my scarf and knit hat - checking me out. Well wth, it happens to be "Astronomy Day", right? I call him over and he seems reluctant but then joins me. Hmmm - what to show him? Ah, Saturn is still up, so I pivot the scope 180 degrees for Saturn just before it hits the treeline. With a little coaching he manages to see it at 60x in the eyepiece as he voices his delight. He then mentions that he's seen Saturn before, down at Fells Point, some guy had a scope there. I nod and confirm that it was more than likely Herman Heyn, Baltimore's sidewalk astronomer for many years. I bid him good evening and he meanders up the road. I take a few minutes to admire Saturn myself. Now where was I? Ah yes, trying to get Kappa Andromedae, right.

With Kappa reacquired and at 30x on the scope I have over 2 degrees field of view, so little problem picking up Iota in the same field. But manipulating the scope is cumbersome, as it so often is when getting objects that are coming close to their culmination and in the northern sky. I decide to shift the scope, rotating it east about 60 degrees, sacrificing tracking for easier sweeping. Back again on Kappa I identify to its east SAO 53202 & 53151, which then point me to 53039 (13 And). A little sweep SE and - bingo! Right there, a star that is a little bloated - the Blue Snowball is captured. Let me just grab my sketch book and - oh my, that cop car is stopping and the officer is emerging.

Star hopping down to the Blue Snowball

"Good evening officer," I call out. "Everything OK?"

"Someone called in about a suspicious person in the area. Seen anything?"

I proceed to fill her in about my visitor who might have appeared a bit out of place. I suspect he may be participating in the halfway home farther in town but an easy walk to our neighborhood. I suggest that he is probably just bored and out for an evening stroll and let her know which way he was headed. She hops back in the car and cruises away.

OK, with no tracking the snowball has scurried away from view. But I'm in the area, so in a few minutes it is recentered. Popping in the 2x Barlow to bump the magnificaton to 60x makes it quite obvious that this is a planetary nebula, although it lacks any green-blue color that we sometimes pick up on. It is still small even with the 20mm + 2x Barlow, maybe 10-15" in size, and bright enough to withstand direct vision. No evidence of the progenitor star and no hint of structure - just a fairly homogeneous orb of soft gray light. I swap out eyepieces again for 75x, which the nebula withstands well. No real gain in detail so I think the 60x view wins as one could include 13 And on the edge of the field while keeping NGC 7662 somewhat center stage, making for a nice field star to complement the nebula.

I sketch the view at 60x, noting the stars and approximating the size and intensity of NGC 7662. Just as I wrap up my friend is back, wanting to know if I am seeing anything. I let him know I'm done for the evening but if he sees me out another time he can feel free to ask what's up. "Cool!" he replies. "Well see you later, I think I'm going to go up to Starbucks." And the thought occurs, if I ever want to do some suburban sidewalk astronomy when I retire I bet outside a Starbucks would be a fabulous venue.