Let's play name that star

the double-star star Zubenelgenubi is seen to the lower left of jupiter in august 2018. . - john mcphee

About 10,000 years ago, skywatchers in the cradle of civilization, Mesopotamia, were the first to put names to what they saw in the heavens.

And they came up with some great ones: Zubenelgenubi. Unukalhai. Rasalhague.

The stars that inspired these names were more than just pretty things to look at for the ancient Arabs. Since agriculture was crucial to the civilization in what's now Iraq, the stars that accompanied the changing seasons helped mark the best time to sow and to reap.

 Many of the names they gave the stars have survived the ages.  The star that gets my vote for best name, Zubenelgenubi (zoo-BEN-el-ja-NOO-bee), is found in the constellation Libra.

Zubenelgenubi

Zubenelgenubi, also known as alpha Librae, is a double-star system 77.2 light-years from Earth. Image via AAO/ STScI/ WikiSky

Zubenelgenubi forms the western corner of the triangle formed by Libra's brighter stars. To find this faint constellation, look between the bright stars Antares low in the south and Arcturus, higher and to the west.

 If you've got sharp eyesight, and are away from city lights, you'll notice that Zubenelgenubi has a much fainter companion. The pair, which is likely a true double-star related in space about 77 light-years away, gets more interesting in binoculars or a wide-field telescope. You can see a striking contrast between the blue main star and the whitish (some observers say it's yellow) companion.

Another celestial tongue-twister, Unukulhai (oo-NOOK-ul-eye), can be seen in small, dim constellation above and to the east of Libra. Unukalhai is the only star that stands out in Serpens Caput, the Neck of the Snake. It's also a multiple-star system but its two other companions aren't visible.

Stars revolve around Polaris, the north star, in this long exposure. - john mcphee

 Not just any star 

Look to the opposite side of the sky to find another star whose name dates back through the millennia. It's easier one to pronounce, Kochab (KO-cab), which may come from al-kawkab, Arabic for "the star." According to Wikipedia, this singular name may refer to the fact Kochab was close to the northern pole at about 1,100 B.C.

For us, of course, another star has that distinction. All stars in the sky appear to revolve around Polaris, the North Star, because now it's located directly above the Earth's northern axis.

Ursa Minor

- Wikipedia Commons

You can easily track this motion by watching the Little Dipper (Ursa Minor) through the night, as Kochab and the other Dipper stars swing around steadfast Polaris.

The Dipper's appearance can be predicted from month to month as well. On June evenings at about 11 p.m., Kochab can be seen at the 12 o'clock position, if Polaris were the centre of the clock.

You'll probably notice Kochab before you see Polaris, even though Kochab is slightly dimmer. It has a distinctive orange hue that really jumps out in binoculars or a scope. Kochab is an impressive star by any measure - it's 500 times brighter and 50 times the size of our sun.

Ancient connections

The first peoples of Canada used this group of stars to guide their travels under the northern skies. The Plains Cree called Polaris the standing-still star, Ekakatchet Atchakos, or Keewatin.

“If a Cree traveller kept Keewatin on their right shoulder while moving over land at night, they knew they were travelling towards the west,” according to information on the University of Calgary’s observatory website.

Northern exposure

The big dipper shines through moonlight on a july evening in brackley, PEI. - john mcphee

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness; close bosom–friend of the maturing sun. – John Keats, Ode to Autumn

HERE IN THIS season of changes, the night sky comes upon us ever more quickly and the days of bare–headed stargazing are fading fast.

The transitory nature of things has come close to home this autumn.

An old friend – a burly, blue– and yellow–eyed guy named Phoenix – has departed for the great catnip patch in the sky. Whenever my heart needs some warming up, I'll think of him dozing in a comfy patch of light from his favourite star, head nestled between his big white paws.

And a recent move has changed my astronomical ways. On the bright side (or dark, as it happens), we're temporarily even deeper in the sticks than our previous abode. While our new digs are being built, I'll enjoy probably the least light–polluted skies I've ever had.

The back deck now faces north – not usually a direction coveted by stargazers.

The northern horizon is on the opposite side of the sky from the richer parts of the Milky Way. Besides that, not much changes in this region. Many of the constellations are circumpolar, a fancy way of saying they never completely set.

The six circumpolar constellations slowly wheel around the North Star, Polaris, in a counter–clockwise motion throughout the year.

For example, probably the most famous star group, the Big Dipper, is now very low in the 7 o'clock position, and by next month will be striking about 6 o'clock.

The Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major, the Great Bear. The outside stars of the Big Dipper's bowl point up to Polaris, at the end of the Little Dipper's handle in Ursa Minor.

Keep tracing this imaginary line past Polaris and you'll come to the peak of the house–shaped constellation Cepheus (SEE–fee–us), the King.

If you've found Cepheus, your eye should certainly catch the brighter W–shape of Cassiopeia (kas–ee–oh–PEE–uh), right next door.

Probably the least known member of the circumpolar club is a real mouthful: Camelopardalis (kam–uh–low–PAR–da–lis), the Giraffe.

This is one tough beast to track down.

When I first got into this hobby, I thought I'd found the Giraffe with no problem. I looked up in the northeastern winter sky, saw a curving line of stars that seemed to form a long neck, with two stellar "legs" on either side. Hello, Camelopardalis.

Not so much. I was actually looking at Perseus, the mythological hero equipped with sword and shield.

This glittering constellation is now low in the northeast just after dark.

You can use Perseus to find the real giraffe. Camelopardalis is just to the left of Perseus, a much dimmer version of its wishbone shape.

Another elusive circumpolar beast, the faint and sprawling Draco (DRAY–ko) the Dragon, weaves its tail around the Little Dipper and arches up toward Cepheus. The Dragon's head lies farther west, perilously close to Hercules, the strongman demi–god who killed Draco.