One thing that happens, living in the New York metro area for a number of years, is that you get into a number of habits - things that come instinctively to true New Yorkers that transplants like myself attempt to emulate. There are also certain habits you get out of, and one of those is looking Up. There's nothing Up in New York City. Rain and snow and stuff might fall out of the sky, and the sun or maybe the moon is up there somewhere (probably behind a building), but if you live there long enough you start to forget about stars.We have a glorious starry sky out here in the Hamptons. The villages generate their share of city glow, but we're talking fireflies compared to the bonfire of New York City. So, since I've been here, I've been renewing my acquaintance with Up. This led me out to the beach last night, well after midnight in clear and frigid weather, chasing falling stars.
Stardate.org gives this info: "The next meteor shower is the Quadrantids on January 4, 2008. The shower is named for the extinct constellation Quadrans Muralis, which honored an astronomical instrument. The constellation was between Boötes and Hercules. This obscure shower produces some of the fastest meteors, and can put on superb displays at times. But it doesn’t last long, and it occurs during the dead of winter, so it’s not very popular. This year is fairly good because the Moon is a thin crescent in the pre-dawn sky."
I had read some articles about the shower that seemed to indicate the peak would occur sometime around 2am - which, on a school night, didn't seem that practical. However, the Quadrantids are known for a brief but intense burst of activity, with one or more meteors per minute in a fairly narrow area at its peak, for for a novice like myself it seemed like a sure thing to actually catch one of the little guys. Around midnight, just when I thought it was time for a pre-star search nap, I happened across another article that seemed to indicate that the peak was coming early - like, right at that moment.
So I traded my jammies for multiple layers of warm clothes and took the Jeep to the beach. There was just enough time on the drive for things to warm up nicely, but lemme tell you, soft-top Jeeps don't stay warm in 11-degree weather, and there's ALWAYS wind at the shore. Brrrrr.
The beach in this area points more or less northeast, so I knew I was oriented in the right general vicinity. It took me longer than it should have to find the Big Dipper, but hey - those evening stargazing expeditions back at my grandparents' place in the woods of central Wisconsin are decades behind me! I spent a lot of time looking directly under the Big Dipper, where I thought the meteors would appear, getting frustrated and cold as my eyes started to freeze open.
Looking off a little more towards the water and a little higher, though, suddenly a faint streak of light caught my eyes. Was that it? I stayed with that place for a while, and sure enough, every few minutes, there would be a spark. They were very fast and each lasted about as long as it would take to say "He--", as in "Hey, I think I see one!" Mostly they were kind of faint, but one or two was as bright as the surrounding stars. In the background, I could hear the surf as the waves hit the frozen sand.
I could have sat out there all night - except, as I mentioned, it was 11 degrees outside, and my fingers were freezing. So having seen a handful of them, I turned for home. But I forgot to make any wishes.
