For those who hadn’t heard, the Quadrantid Meteor Shower swept over the Northern Hemisphere in the wee hours of this morning. According to the local weather forecast, the peak viewing hours were around 1:30am, but we needed to wait until moonfall for the sky to be dark enough to see anything. Consequently, I bundled up and headed outside at 3:00am. (Even though Mom and Dad had talked about sleeping through it—that’s what happens when you’re not a night owl—they joined me about five minutes later.)
Part of me thought, “Hey, I could use my phone to get a video of this since there are supposed to be 60-100 meteors per hour!” Another part of me said not to, which turned out to be the better decision. For one thing, I spent close to 45 minutes outside and only saw two meteors, most likely because we’re only about a mile away from an interstate highway, so the sky never got really dark.
But perhaps the biggest reason for my not bothering with the phone is because I don’t like the sense of separation. Instead of sitting there and enjoying the moment, watching what’s going on, I end up thinking about what I’m doing with the camera. I had the same problem during my older brother’s wedding years ago—I agreed to use the video camera to tape everything for them, but because I attached it to a tripod that wasn’t sitting evenly, I had to hold it at a certain angle to make sure that it was recording everything (mostly) vertically. I spent more time being pissed at the tripod than I did enjoying such a happy moment in my brother’s life. (If there’s a bright side to that, at least I didn’t need to worry about crying in front of everyone.)
So no, no recording. And thus no long video of stars with a lack of white streaks flying across it. But I did get to check out a few more meteors thanks to NASA. They set up a live feed from a camera down on their base in Huntsville, Alabama—once it got dark enough down there, I saw three more on my computer screen. Yay for technology! (Okay, admittedly, that’s not seeing meteors with my own eyes, but at least I was staring at the screen instead of through a tiny pinhole and thus didn’t need to feel guilty if I missed recording an awesome one flashing across the sky. Yay for no guilt!)
