My meteor watching setup - comfortable chair, blanket, clipboard, red flashlights, clock, binoculars, snacks

The graph shows the ZHR (Zenithal Hourly Rate), which is the number of meteors an observer would [...]]]>

The white area is greater Los Angeles. I observed from my driveway in Monrovia, indicated at the "red/white" border zone marked with cross-hairs

My meteor watching setup - comfortable chair, blanket, clipboard, red flashlights, clock, binoculars, snacks

The graph shows the ZHR (Zenithal Hourly Rate), which is the number of meteors an observer would see under a very dark sky with the radiant of the shower overhead. (this chart is being updated as more reports are submitted)

I prefer to drive far from LA to view meteor showers from a dark sky, but those darn showers don’t always happen on weekends or days I can take off work. So this week, I observed the Quadrantid Meteor Shower from my bright moonlit Los Angeles County driveway until after midnight, snoozed until moonset at 3:00 a.m., then had a fairly decent sky from 3:00 a.m. to 5:15 a.m. when the sky started to brighten from the dawn light. Although I didn’t see many meteors, and only one before the moon set at 3:00 a.m. PST January 4th, I was thrilled with my observations.

Take a look at this colorful map. See that white blob? That’s Los Angeles on a light pollution map. That white ribbon? That’s the California coastline. White on these maps designates the most light polluted areas in the world. There is no worse place for light pollution. LA is the model of a major metropolitan meteor-observing maelstrom of star-obscuring light pollution. This white color on the map is described in bleak terms on the Clear Sky Chart website’s light pollution map page: “The entire sky is grayish or brighter. Familiar constellations are missing stars. Fainter constellations are absent. Less than 20 stars visible over 30 degrees elevation in brighter areas. Limiting magnitude ranges from 3 to 4. Most people don’t look up.” Monrovia is on the north edge of the white blob that is Los Angeles, indicated by the cross-hair. (all those little crosses on the map are other astronomy locations). Red is the next to worst light pollution zone, and the ribbon of red color next to Los Angeles is the San Gabriel Mountain foothills. Monrovia is nestled between the Los Angeles basin and the mountains. It’s fine for moon and planets at our monthly Old Town Sidewalk Astronomy nights, not so good for meteors and anything else astronomical.

The three oval white blobs on the left lower quadrant are Santa Catalina, San Clemente and San Nicholas Islands! The yellow, green and blue zones are in the ocean. It’s even light polluted well off the coast of Southern California!

I usually drive 150-300 miles to one of the black teardrop shaped pin spots on this light pollution map of California. Those are the best and darkest locations for the stargazing and astrophotography we enjoy. Mojo and I prefer Amboy Crater, Hole-In-the-Wall Campground in Mojave National Preserve, and a spot near Desert Center 60 miles past Indio on I-10. We also love the dark skies at Glacier Point at Yosemite.

But this week was the peak of the Quadrantids, and I didn’t want to drive a 6-hour round trip for 3 hours of meteor watching, especially on a work night. So I found a good spot in my driveway and it blocked a lot of the local light sources. I nestled my comfy observing chair up next to a cinder block wall. This wall, plus strategically placed tall trees blocked the moonlight and oncoming car lights from my view. To my south was not the Milky Way, but the milky gray — the color of skies over Los Angeles. I could see the big dipper stars, and part of the little dipper. Below these two constellations was the radiant of the Quadrantids. This area wouldn’t even rise until after midnight, but I wanted to say I observed the Quadrantids during the actual peak, and check for earthgrazing meteors on the horizon.

I estimated my limiting magnitude at a dismal 3.9 using star counting charts. I settled into my meteor-watching chair, sipped some hot green tea and waited. And waited. And waited some more. From 11:00 p.m. until 12:30 p.m (PST) I saw exactly one meteor, and it wasn’t even a Quadrantid. The moon was high overhead now, and so I snoozed until moonset at 3:00 a.m. Wednesday morning.

When my alarm went off, I headed back out to the driveway. I adjusted my chair, adjusted the dark blankets I placed over the fence between my driveway and the neighbor’s all-night security lights. By careful placement of my head, and with blankets on the fences and shrubs I had no lights shining directly at me.

It was a little after 3 a.m. and I started observing an area above the radiant, centered on the bowl of the big dipper. My back was facing the well-lit LA basin, my view to the north was overlooking the San Gabriel mountains and Mt. Wilson Observatory. By 3:18 I had seen my first Quadrantid. At 3:30 I counted stars again. Without the moonlight, my limiting magnitude rose to a respectable 5.1 using this star counting chart. I repeated this exercise several times, until I could barely see stars after 5:00 a.m. My last limiting magnitude calculation before I packed it in was 2.9.

This chart shows the data from 48 observers in twenty countries. Data (still coming in, I’ll update the chart a couple of times) is averaged based on the observers seeing conditions, visual acuity, cloud cover percentage, etc. You can see that the highest rates — at the peak of the Quadrantids were in excess of 80 per hour. This is the number of meteors which would be seen overhead at the zenith (in a dark sky) if the highest rate was kept steady for one hour. In reality, the highest rates last usually for only a few minutes for showers like the Quadrantids with a very narrow peak. How many did I see from my Monrovia driveway? I saw three from 3:00-3:30 a.m. and another three from 3:30-4:00 a.m. I saw five from 4:00 to 4:30 a.m. and between 4:30 and 5:00 a.m. I saw three, plus heard nearby roosters crowing! I finished the observing with 2 more Quadrantids between 5:00 and 5:15 a.m. and was heralded by a veritable rooster symphony as the sky brightened. My total count over a little more than 2 hours was 16 lovely Quadrantids, two sporadics, and one Anthelion! Here’s my report which I submitted to the International Meteor Organization. Amazingly, this number is almost exactly the prediction from NASA’s Meteor Fluxtimator when I entered Quadrantids from downtown Los Angeles on the 3rd and 4th of January 2012. How about that! You can observe a meteor shower from Los Angeles!

Here’s the meteor shower calendar for 2012

Interested in counting meteors? Here’s the IMO Visual meteor observing form plus instructions and FAQs

More about the Quadrantids and their namesake constellation, Quadrans Muralis

Post-Perseid depression (or how to observe meteor showers)

Perseids from Amboy Crater (a dark sky site)

Waiting for moonset on Perseid night 2010, observing from Amboy Crater, CA

Notice elevated rates from August 7th-15th, and a secondary peak on the 17th, and the 20th?

Here’s what you can expect to see from a dark sky observing for several hours like the 2010 Perseids which [...]]]>

My meteor shower first aid kit

Waiting for moonset on Perseid night 2010, observing from Amboy Crater, CA

Notice elevated rates from August 7th-15th, and a secondary peak on the 17th, and the 20th?

Here’s what you can expect to see from a dark sky observing for several hours like the 2010 Perseids which peaked on a moonless night like this year.

I enjoy observing meteor showers from the darkest sky I can drive to in one night. Here’s where I go, what I bring (and don’t bring), and how I observe.

You will want a comfy chair that supports your neck. I bring a clipboard with blank sheets of paper and Finnish Triangle limiting magnitude star charts to determine my limiting magnitude throughout the night.

I also pack binoculars, but not for observing meteors. I just like to have them with me to look at galaxies and star clusters when not counting meteors. I leave my telescope at home, too. I bring a digital clock that doesn’t emit any light, a red flashlight, pencils, an audio recorder, and a cooler full of snacks and water. I keep on hand layers of clothes, a blanket or sleeping bag, and hand-warmers for cool nights. For comfort, I carry a first aid kit including eye drops, chap stick, and sting-ease for bug bites. One more thing I keep handy – a piece of string, in case I want to trace a meteor to its radiant by holding it up to the streak of light.

I don’t keep any light emitting devices within eyesight – no cell phone, no interior car lights, no telescope mounts or cameras that emit or blink light. You don’t have to be that drastic about darkness, but I often drive a long way to a dark sky and want to see faint meteors. Any car or phone light will ruin my dark adaptation. It can take up to an hour for your eyes to adjust again. If a car or a friend stops by, I will just take a break, or shut my eyes until the light is gone.

Once I am ready to begin observing, I scan the area of the sky I plan to watch. Note! You don’t have to look in the direction of the radiant. The Perseids all appear to radiate from (fly out of) a point – the radiant – in the constellation Perseus, and so they will appear everywhere. That’s where the string or shoelace are helpful — to trace the meteor back to its point of origin. Then I memorize the magnitudes of familiar stars nearby so I can accurately note the meteor magnitudes on my observing paper – one sheet for every 15 minutes I plan to observe. The info all ends up on this visual observing form, prepared from all the raw data. Then I sit in my comfy chair, clipboard on my lap, and wait for that first meteor to streak across my viewing field.

2015 Perseids – Live updates!

My accounts of the 1998-2002 Leonid Storm Multi-Instrument Aircraft Campaign (MAC)

My account of the 2007 Aurigid Outburst, Perseid MAC

2011 Draconids MAC

Boötes, Canes Venatici, Coma Berenices and Quadrans Muralis

The Northeast sky Jan 4 at 1:00 a.m. PST. Look between Ursa Major and Minor, and the bright star Arcturus in Boötes for the location of Quadrans Muralis on the Boötes-Draco border

Looking Northeast [...]]]>

Johann Bode's 1801 Uranographia, showing Quadrans Murales, Boötes and other constellations

Boötes, Canes Venatici, Coma Berenices and Quadrans Muralis

The Northeast sky Jan 4 at 1:00 a.m. PST. Look between Ursa Major and Minor, and the bright star Arcturus in Boötes for the location of Quadrans Muralis on the Boötes-Draco border

Looking Northeast before sunrise, chart courtesy of Spaceweather.com

Most meteor showers radiate from a recognizable constellation like Leo’s Leonids, Gemini’s Geminids and Orion’s Orionids. What’s up with the January Quadrantids? Where do you find their constellation? In Quadrans Muralis, a demoted constellation.

The first 60+ Roman constellations didn’t cover the sky south of the equator, so over the years, astronomers took up the task and filled in the empty spaces with new constellations, including some in the northern sky.

The International Astronomical Union divided up the sky into official constellations in 1930. 88 constellations remained, but over 30 constellations didn’t make the cut. Among those demoted was Quadrans Muralis, the location of January’s brilliant, but brief Quadrantid meteor shower. Apis, the bee, Felis, the cat, and Solarium the sundial were other constellations demoted into obsoleteness. One ancient constellation, Argo Navis, didn’t survive, either. It’s the only one of the 48 constellations listed by 2nd century astronomer Ptolemy no longer officially recognized as a constellation. Like other pieces of large real estate, it was subdivided into smaller segments in the 17th century, and those constellations — Carina the Keel, Vela the Sails, and Puppis the Poop Deck — survived demotion.

There were good reasons to define and standardize the constellation list, even if it meant losing some historic or whimsical constellations. One reason, according to the IAU was “to aid in the naming of new variable stars, which brighten and fade rather than shine steadily. Such stars are named for the constellation in which they reside, so it is important to agree where one constellation ends and the next begins.”

Quadrans Muralis was added to the constellations by Joseph J. de Lalande in 1795, to commemorate the quadrant he used to observe and measure stellar positions. The quadrant was an instrument very similar to today’s sextant. A few years later, in the early 1800′s a meteor shower was discovered to radiate from this constellation, and the meteor shower was named for the constellation.

Created from stars found to the north of Boötes, the herdsmen; Quadrans Muralis can be found in a rich area of the northern sky filled with pretty constellations. The big and little dippers (the most recognizable parts of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor) are the most familiar sights but you’ll also find the Northern Crown, Corona Borealis, Boötes and his two hunting dogs Asterion and Chara in Canes Venatici, and Coma Berenices, the hair of Bernice. Take a tour of the area through binoculars on January 3rd before midnight while waiting for the radiant to rise.

Update for 2012 for Southern California meteor observers: “The radiant rises at 1:00 am local time and the moon sets at 3:00 am. The predicted peak (2:30 am Eastern 11:30 PST (07:30 UT January 4, 2011).

The Quadrantids (QUA) or January Bootids are active from January 1st through the 10th. A sharp maximum is predicted to occur near 0730 Universal Time on the 4th. This corresponds to 02:30 EST and 23:30 PST (January 3rd). This is good timing for viewers located in eastern North America as the radiant will rising above the northeastern horizon. It would even be better if the maximum were a bit later as the radiant would be located higher in the sky, producing more activity.

Rates will depend on the exact time of maximum and whether the moon is still above the horizon. Assuming the 0730 UT timing is correct, the further one is located in North America, the better. Eastern observers may be able to see 60-75 Quadrantids per hour. If your skies are very clear and dark, allowing you to see faint meteors, your rates could top 100 per hour. Observers located in the western portions of North American will have lower rates but will also have the opportunity to see Quadrantid “earthgrazers”. Earthgrazers are meteors that skim the upper portion of the atmosphere therefore lasting much longer than normal and producing long trails in the sky. These meteors can only be seen when the radiant lies close to the horizon. As the radiant rises, the meteor paths
will become shorter with shorter durations. Observers in the northern hemisphere outside of North America can expect to see a maximum of 25 Quadrantids per hour between moon set and dawn.

At maximum the radiant is located at 15:21 (230) +49. This position lies in a barren region of extreme northern Bootes, ten degrees northeast of the fourth magnitude star Beta Bootis. At 42 km/sec. the Quadrantids produce meteors of medium velocity. During exceptional activity some Quadrantid fireballs may be witnessed. Courtesy Bob Lundsford posting on the MeteorObs Yahoo Group.

Streaming video & a visibility map for tonight’s (January 3-4, 2012) Quadrantids meteor shower

Quadrantids History

IAU and the 88 Constellations

My What’s Up video for January 2011 (not 2012): The January 3-4 Quadrantid Meteor Shower

My What’s Up video for January 2012: Evolving planets, an asteroid to view (Eros), plus the Quadrantids