(meteorobs) Why don't more amateurs get it? (Meteors, that is.)

[Bruce McCurdy]

    "Observing meteors is one of the easiest and most pleasant ways of 
stargazing, and requires no equipment whatsoever. One simply reclines on a 
blanket or a lawn chair, enjoys the starry sky, and waits for a meteor to 
streak by."

                -- Timothy Ferris, "Seeing in the Dark" (the book)
    ***

    I guess it's hard to pack 300 pages into 60 minutes, and there had to be 
some casualties along the way, including pretty much that whole chapter on 
meteors, fireballs, meteorites, asteroids and comets. More generally, I find 
it unfortunate that naked-eye astronomy got short shrift in "Seeing in the 
Dark, TV Edition", with a couple of gee whiz statements about the Milky Way 
near the beginning, and a short segment on Barnard learning the 
constellations as a child. Similarly binoculars got just a single mention, 
while telescopes, Go-To telescopes,  remote telescopes, and various imaging 
systems hogged the limelight. Boys and their toys, indeed. Admittedly these 
are ever-more dominant in amateur astronomy, but not the be-all and end-all. 
Unfortunately a net result of Ferris' otherwise fine show -- especially fine 
in high-definition, speaking of toys! -- might be to perpetuate that 
stereotype that one needs a telescope (and money) to do astronomy.

    To expand on Ferris' sentiments in the above quote, I consider one of 
the most wonderful benefits of visual meteor observing to be that when I'm 
not observing meteors, I'm still observing. There is much in the sky to be 
appreciated with the naked eye: stars both constant and variable, 
constellations and asterisms, the subtle motions of the planets, the best 
and brightest of the deep sky objects, the fabulous edge-on galaxy we call 
the Milky Way. Closer to home are manmade satellites, aurora, local weather, 
birds, my own breath of life crystallizing in the crisp predawn air. It is 
easy for this observer to feel connected to the cosmos, the link between the 
heavens and the Earth being provided by the meteors themselves.

    Wayne W. wrote:

> I've heard it said that looking for meteors is like fishing. Maybe so.

    I know I've said that myself many times, including more than once on 
this list, such as this still-valid comment from a post about the 2004 
Lyrids:

                "To quote the opening sentence of an article I once wrote, 
meteor observing is like fishing, only easier. (Although I'm not a fisherman 
myself, as a proud native son of Newfoundland let's just say I know the 
type.) One merely needs to sit under an open sky and cast one's eyes in its 
direction. While many of my astronomer friends would rather spend their 
hours telescopically examining nature's more distant treasures, I frequently 
prefer the more holistic experience of naked-eye observing. There is 
something about the simplicity of the method that strongly appeals to my 
inner Luddite. A hand-held microcassette recorder and a digital watch's 
timer announcing the end of each 10-minute bin can be quite enough 
technology, thank you. Certainly it's more rewarding and interesting when 
the fish are jumping, the cotton is high, and the sky is alive with meteors. 
But even when one gets few bites, as tonight, one still gets that 
opportunity to reconnect, to have a quiet debate with nature by stopping to 
consider its myriad points (of light), and to reflect on one's own thoughts. 
As Bob L. and others eloquently pointed out, it's all in one's state of 
mind, and I choose to enjoy the process. Besides, you never know when you 
might land the Big One."
    ***

    Boring? Redundant? I guess it might appear that way to an outsider. Why 
waste a perfectly good sunny afternoon fishing?

    I think a valid comparison can also be made to birding, which to this 
dabbler appears to involve a great amount of redundancy and waiting. The 
Christmas Bird Count sounds to me like a Perseid Party, but the hardcore 
birder can go much deeper, including making serious contributions to science 
and nature. But they live for those special moments: just last night I spoke 
to a guy who drove many miles out of his way and nearly got lost in the dark 
confirming a report of five whooping cranes somewhere in the flats of 
Saskatchewan. Most of his story was about inconvenience and confusion, but 
when he described the sight of the male whooping cranes doing their mating 
display in the setting sunlight, his eyes shone. I rhetorically asked "So 
was it worth the effort?" and his reply rang a loud bell: "It was a *life* 
observation." I then regaled him with my own story of driving 700 km to see, 
through broken cloud, nine Aurigids (and one golden eagle!). I think we 
understood one another perfectly.

    Good thing, too, because my purpose at that particular gathering was to 
make more good contacts and spread the word on light pollution, which as Joe 
Rao and others have pointed out, is hugely detrimental to what we do. Rather 
than throw up our hands, surely it is incumbent upon us "naturalists of the 
night" to draw attention to the lose-lose-lose scenario that is 
irresponsible lighting, and to focus on achieving the individual small wins 
that will stem the tide. We are not alone: we have many natural allies in 
the naturalist and environmental and artistic communities, including birders 
and fishers, park rangers and photographers, poets and philosophers, and 
pretty much anybody whose a/vocation allows sufficient time and perspective 
to ponder humanity's own place in the grand scheme of things. If you haven't 
already, please consider adding your voice to the growing discussion.

    Speaking of which, *this* discussion on meteorobs has been most 
enlightening. Thanks for writing, everybody ... and thanks for reading.

    Bruce
    *****