StarDate Billy Henry

The solar system is pretty settled. The planets appear to be following orbits that have remained stable for billions of years. But in the early days, things might have been a lot more chaotic. According to one model, in fact, the giant planets Jupiter and Saturn might have moved much closer to the Sun before they moved back out again.



The planets probably took shape from a disk of gas and dust around the Sun. Small bits of material stuck together to make bigger bits, all the way up to planets. But much of the material remained free. There was enough of it to exert both a drag and a pull on the giant planets.



In this model, Jupiter — the Sun’s heaviest planet — was born at about two-thirds of its present distance from the Sun. It quickly moved inward, though, all the way to the orbit of Mars. Saturn — the second-most-massive planet — was dragged inward as well. Jupiter and Saturn thinned out the supply of gas and dust and the leftover planetary building blocks — either by scooping them up or kicking them away from the Sun. That changed the gravitational balance of the solar system. Jupiter and Saturn moved outward — settling into their current stable orbits around the Sun.



Saturn is in the dawn sky now, and looks like a bright golden star. Unlike a star, though, it doesn’t twinkle — its light holds steady. Tomorrow, it will stand close to the left of the Moon. The Moon will pass between Saturn and Mars the next morning; more about that tomorrow.



Script by Damond Benningfield

One of the larger moons of the planet Neptune has been through a lot. It might have started as an asteroid, and was captured by Neptune’s gravity. Or it might have started as a moon, but was hurled into a wild orbit when Neptune grabbed its largest moon. And since then, it’s been battered by impacts with other space rocks.



Nereid was discovered 75 years ago today, by Gerard Kuiper. It was only the second moon seen around the giant planet, and it’s the third-largest of Neptune’s 16 known moons.



Kuiper was observing Neptune with the 82-inch telescope at McDonald Observatory. In a pair of 40-minute exposures, the moon showed up as a tiny star near the planet. Kuiper suggested the name Nereid because, in mythology, the Nereids were daughters of Neptune.



We don’t know a lot more about the moon today than when it was discovered. It’s more than 200 miles in diameter, its gray surface probably is coated with ice and rock, and the surface is rough — perhaps the result of billions of years of impacts.



Nereid follows the most lopsided orbit of any good-sized moon in the solar system. It ranges from less than a million miles from Neptune to about six million miles. That suggests that Nereid could be the last of Neptune’s original moons. When Neptune captured its biggest moon, Triton, Triton’s gravity could have kicked out all the others, leaving only Nereid — in a wild orbit around a giant planet.



Script by Damond Benningfield

Earth’s magnetic field sometimes does a flip. The north magnetic pole becomes the south pole, and vice versa. On average, it happens once every few hundred thousand years.
But sometimes, it’s more of a flip flop — the field flips right back over.
One flip-flop took place about 42,000 years ago. Known as the Laschamps Excursion, the flip lasted only a few hundred years. And a recent study said the transition could have been a major problem for Earth’s environment.
The magnetic field protects us from radiation from the Sun and beyond. As the field flips, though, it gets weaker. That allows more radiation to reach the upper atmosphere, where it can zap the ozone layer. In turn, that allows more radiation to reach the surface, where it can cause skin cancers, mutations, and other problems.
During the Laschamps era, the magnetic field dropped to only a few percent of its current strength. Scientists studied the effect of that drop by examining trees buried in New Zealand. The trees’ annual growth rings contained high levels of radioactive carbon — an indication that more radiation was reaching the surface.
The researchers said that the weaker field could have been related to major climate changes, including animal extinctions in Australia.
No other research has reported such dramatic impacts from a flip. So it’s unclear what effect the next flip — or flip-flop — might have on life on our planet.
Script by Damond Benningfield

Earth’s magnetic field is a protective blanket. It keeps charged particles from the Sun and beyond from hitting the surface and much of the atmosphere, where they could cause a lot of problems. But it’s a lumpy blanket. It doesn’t provide the same level of protection for the whole planet. Instead, the magnetic field has peaks and valleys.
Today, there’s a deep “valley” over parts of South America and the South Atlantic Ocean. Known as the South Atlantic Anomaly, it allows particles in Earth’s radiation belts to come closer to the surface than anywhere else.
That’s a big problem for orbiting spacecraft. Some have been damaged when they passed through the anomaly. The International Space Station has extra shielding to keep its crew safe.
About 3,000 years ago, there was a big “peak” in the magnetic field over the Middle East. The field was stronger than usual there, and stayed that way for centuries.
Some of the most recent evidence for it came from bricks from Mesopotamia, around present-day Iraq. The bricks contain bits of iron oxide. When the bricks were fired, the iron particles recorded the condition of the magnetic field at the time. The bricks also contained the seals of kings. Archaeologists know just when the kings ruled. That allowed scientists to piece together the magnetic history of the region — confirming a big “lump” in Earth’s ancient magnetic field.
More about the magnetic field tomorrow.
Script by Damond Benningfield

Be careful what you say — a single phrase can define a legacy.
Consider Frances Baily. He served four terms as president of the Royal Astronomical Society and compiled some of the most important star catalogs in history. But he’s best known for five little words: “like a string of beads.”
Baily was born 250 years ago today, in England. As a young man, he traveled to the wilds of North America, then joined the London Stock Exchange. He was especially good at the mathematical side of things, compiling guides about annuities and life insurance. He made a fortune, then retired in 1825 to spend all of his time on astronomy.
Baily had already helped establish the forerunner of the royal society. He used his skills from his days in business to compile star catalogs — work that required a lot of tedious calculations. One of them was the leading publication of its time.
In 1836, Baily watched a solar eclipse from Scotland. Just before the Sun vanished, he noticed little points of light around the edge of the Moon. Edmond Halley had seen the same thing more than a century earlier. Halley even explained those points: they’re sunlight shining through gaps between lunar mountains and craters.
To his fellow astronomers, Baily described them as “a row of lucid points, like a string of beads.” So today, the points are known as “Baily’s beads” — insuring a bit of immortality for an insurance expert-turned-astronomer.
Script by Damond Benningfield

Russian astronomer Friedrich Wilhelm von Struve discovered and catalogued thousands of binary stars — pairs of stars that are gravitationally bound to each other. But a system that he first saw in 1829 was so striking that he gave it a special name: Pulcherrima — “the most beautiful.” It honors the contrasting colors of the two stars. One looks pale orange, while the other looks blue-white or even green.
The system is also known by an even older name: Izar, “the girdle,” because it represents the middle of Boötes, the herdsman. Regardless of what you call it, most skywatchers agree with Struve: Seen through a telescope, the pair is quite beautiful.
The orange star is a giant. It’s burned through its original hydrogen fuel and is nearing the end of its life. As a result, it’s puffed up to many times the diameter of the Sun. That “puffiness” caused the star’s outer layers to cool, which is why it looks orange.
Its companion is much hotter, so it shines almost pure white. It looks blue or green only when it’s compared to the orange star. It’s less massive than the companion, so it has a lot longer to go before it reaches its own “giant” phase.
Boötes is in the east as night falls. Look for its brightest star, brilliant yellow-orange Arcturus. Izar is the first noticeable star to the left of Arcturus. To the eye alone, it looks like a single point of light. But a telescope reveals the true nature of this colorful duo.
Script by Damond Benningfield