Last week in Starwatch I urged you to look in the low southern skies for one of my favorite constellations, Sagittarius, right next to the bright planet Jupiter, just to the lower right of the giant of our solar system.
Just to the right of Sagittarius (which resembles a teapot) is another great summer constellations, Scorpius, the 10th brightest constellation in the night skies and one of those few constellations that actually looks like what it’s supposed to be.
It looks like the teapot of Sagittarius is pouring right onto the tail of the scorpion. Personally, I see Scorpius as “the giant fishhook” that trolls our low summer skies. I remember my grandma pointing out the big fishhook in the sky off the dock of her cabin near Garrison, Minn.
The brightest star in Scorpius is the bright brick-red star Antares at the heart of the beast. It’s the brightest star in that part of the heavens.
To the right of Antares you’ll see three dimmer stars in a vertical row that make up the scorpion’s head. To the lower left of Antares, look for the long curved tail of the beast.
Antares has a definite reddish hue, demonstrating the fact that stars come in different colors. They are not just little white lights in the sky.
A star’s color tells a lot about its nature. Bluish white stars are the hottest; some have surface temperatures of over 30,000 degrees. Reddish stars like Antares are cooler. In fact, Antares is cooler than our own sun, with a surface temperature of close to 6,000 degrees.
A thermometer plopped on the sun’s outer layer would show close to 11,000 degrees.
Antares’ reddish hue is also reflected in its name. It’s derived from Greek, meaning “rival of Mars,” since it has the same ruddy tone as the planet Mars. You can easily confuse Mars and Antares if you’re new to stargazing.
There’s no confusion between Mars and Antares when it comes to size. Mars is only about 4,000 miles across, a far celestial cry from the 600 million mile diameter of Antares. That’s more than 700 times the diameter of our sun.
If Antares were in our sun’s position, the outer edge of the star would extend beyond the orbit of Mars. We would be living inside Antares, and global warming would really run amok.
There are many stories in lore and mythology as to how Scorpius wound up as a constellation. Most involve the hunter Orion and Artemis, goddess of the hunt.
In one version, Artemis’ brother, Apollo, was angered by her attentions to Orion and sent a scorpion to kill the hunter.
A grieving Artemis placed Orion in the skies. The scorpion was thrown into the opposite end of the sky. That’s why Orion and Scorpius are never seen in the sky at the same time. Orion prowls the winter skies and Scorpius trolls the summer heavens. Orion won’t get stung again.
Mike Lynch is an amateur astronomer and professional broadcast meteorologist for WCCO Radio in Minneapolis and author of the book, “Washington Starwatch,” available at bookstores and at his Web site www.lynchandthestars.com.
The Everett Astronomical Society welcomes new members and puts on public star parties. The Web site is members.tripod.com/everett_astronomy.
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