Sky & Telescope March 1988 [antikvár]

focal pointAstronomy's Reigning CATs and DOGsGroping for a 12th-magnitude galaxy with my 4-inch refractor, I felt my frustration rising. As near as I could tell in the flashlight's red glare, I should have been looking right at it, but the star-poor field gave me little guidance. Was the galaxy too faint, or was I simply looking in the wrong place?After reading the ST Test Report in the November issue, I realized that amateur astronomers need never feel such frustration again. The mysteries of aiming a telescope have been conquered by the Computer Aided Telescope the CAT. At the push of a few buttons the CAT will lead an observer directly to the desired object. As thoroughly as an old tomcat can rid the corn-crib of mice, the CAT ought to banish frustration from observing, leaving an object's visibility not to the observer's luck in finding it, but to the quality of the telescope and sky conditions.As an efficient, calculating hunter, the CAT would replace the paraphernalia I had heaped on a spindly-legged TV-dinner tray wedged under my telescope tripod. But as I considered my star charts, books, pencils, notepads, flashlights and binoculars, I suddenly realized that I was having fun. I would no more trade my charts and star-hopping and muttering for a CAT than I would sell the telescope. I'm nothing but an old Die-hard Optical Groper a DOG.Before I sound too rabid, I assure you that I'm not calUng the CAT a horrid device that never should have been invented. Actually, I think this marvelous, even magical, accessory will immeasurably assist those who conduct supernova patrols or whose observing programs require spending as little time as possible searching for objects. Naysayers have berated every advance in technology the steam engine, the automobile, the dreadnought and I don't want to join their ranks. I object not to the CAT, but to its advertised image.The idea of seeing 100 galaxies an hour makes my DOGish hackles rise. Allowing only 25 percent of the time for button pushing and slewing, that still leaves less than 30 seconds to view each object. I would rather use my pencils and clipboard to describe what I see, not merely keep score. I realize, however, that can doesnot mean must. CAl-equipped telescopes need not speed across the sky like searchlights during the London blitz. In fact, the CAT gives observers more time to look through their telescopes by eliminating time spent poring over charts and star hopping. But I enjoy that process. It makes astronomy an activity that I do, not that I just watch.Everybody subconsciously knows that most amateur astronomy has gone to the DOGs, but it's time we got a pat on the head. Too many people have an idea that the true amateur astronomer is a semi-professional with an observatory that includes a voice-operated, computer-driven 20-inch telescope, a 14-inch Schmidt camera, and a 2-meter radio telescope. The person with a 2-inch refractor propped in a closet corner is no less of an amateur. These two people differ only in what they want from their hobby.Just like pet ownership, hobbies reflect the temperaments of their participants.Astronomy has its own CAT and DOG people. As a southern journalist, I prefer the leisurely exercise of hunting and note-taking that being a DOG allows me. Sometimes I do take my love of the old-fashioned to extremes (like writing with a fountain pen), but when I observe, I simply don't want to be led around by a machine.For me the cruise is as much fun as the port of call. Astronomy is an art form for those of us who peruse charts and observing guides before an evening's session under the stars. Perhaps I satisfy some primeval hunter's instinct by ferreting out obscure celestial objects rather than being led to them by a seeing-eye CAT. But more than anything, I enjoy using my observing skills. Some may say I have unhealthy pride. But when I can finally call out, "There it is," knowing I've found a faint galaxy, I've done something. The satisfaction can be no greater for those people who grind their own mirrors or who program their own computers. The complexity of amateur astronomy requires that there be CAT and DOG people. But CATs seem to get most of the attention. Perhaps they should, for CATs are at the vanguard of our avocation. The newsmakers will always be those who tinker, build, and innovate not those who put a telescope on their shoulders and trudge out into the February night.Those are the DOGs astronomy's faithful. In the December issue, J. Kelly Beatty's Focal Point indicated that the "average" Sky & Telescope reader is very much a DOG, since he or she views with a 4- to 8-inch telescope from the backyard. But unlike the four-legged kind, we DOGs don't constantly seek praise. We're perfectly content with just a Basic Observer's Nighttime Experience.TOM CARTERAn instructor of journalism at Georgia South-ern College, Tom Carter is an amateur astrono-mer of 10 years' standing.