From the Southworth Planetarium
“Growth opportunities are for rainforests.”
THE DAILY ASTRONOMER
July 22, 2010
The Scorpion’s No Claws (R)
Some days, the time gets away and we are compelled to
post a repeat. While some will say this is cheating and cheap,
we assert that we have strict standards for repeats. One,
the post has to be more than a year old; two, we have to be
able to find it.
We regret the necessity, implore for forgiveness, appreciate your
understanding, and thank you for reading.
The Scorpion article originally posted on June 9, 2009.
Quietly creeping and silently seething, there in the hollow of southeastern evening sky rises the arched frame and beating heart of the loathsome scorpion Scorpius. Redundant of name, but formidable in nature. A dark, brooding, spectre of peril sliding with gentle menace along our southern summer sky. Each year, when Orion descends into retreating late spring twilight, it emerges onto the dark stage. There in the underbrush this dreaded denizen of the Arachnid clan casts lurid eye upon the elongated frame of the unsuspecting virgin Virgo. Also redundant of name, but recumbent in posture, Virgo is traveling westward, wholly unaware that down on the haze-obscured horizon lurks the designing Scorpius in the grip of untoward intention, snapping his claws together in a frenzy of unconstrained excitement.
Scorpius: I’m gonna get me some of that!
But wait, Kahuna!
Scorpius the scorpion has no claws. One can’t snap claws together in any type of frenzy if one doesn’t have any claws to begin with. Certainly, he has a stinger, a curved body, and a massive beating heart. Yet, little good will those organs do him if he is sans claws down there in the sultry bayou of the southeastern sky. So, he can cast a lurid eye, even furtively if he desires, but no other move can he make for, as they say in the land of the combustible Jambalya, “that body ain’t made for snatching!”
DA: Ah, too bad. Here, have a pop tart.
Scorpius: B***h
DA: Oops, you dropped it
You understand, Scorpius is an ancient constellation of various associations. Perhaps the most famous of these is the story involving Orion. When the boastful hunter Orion bragged that he could slay any beast in the world, Artemis fashioned the scorpion out of spare parts to destroy Orion. This feat Scorpius accomplished in short order, nipping the hunter on the ankle almost as soon as he landed on Earth. Orion died and, along with his killer, was placed in the sky. Orion and Scorpius were arranged so that they would never be in the sky simultaneously, thereby precluding them from engaging in combat ever again.
Scorpius is low in the southeastern evening sky in the summer, whereas Orion is high in southern sky in the winter. When Orion sets, Scorpius appears. At this latitude the two antagonists cannot be in the sky together. (They can be in the sky together around the Antarctic circle: a region known to the ancients as the underside of Terra Incognita.)
Years ago, Scorpius the Scorpion was much larger than he is today. Apart from the j-shaped body, stinger, and head, it also had a set of super claws at the west, perfect for Orion nipping and maiden snatching. Unfortunately, Roman Dictator Julius Caesar (100 – 44 BCE), in an effort to cast his own personal imprint on everything he saw (the sky, the calendar, the recumbent Cleopatra) detached the claws from the Scorpion’s body. These claws were transformed into another constellation known as “Libra the Scales.” This “set of scales” is one of the few inanimate objects on the firmament. (Sagitta the arrow; Scutum the shield are other examples.)
The purpose of this detachment might have been to make the zodiac, as it was then called, conform in proportion to the Julian calendar. The calendar had twelve moon-ths (months) and each month would have its own zodiac symbol. Before the Scorpion’s truncation, the zodiac had eleven constellations.
With the addition of Libra, the zodiac consisted of twelve constellations aligned along the sun’s apparent annual path through the sky.
Today, this construct is known as the “ecliptic.”
The Sun passes through Libra during early November. It passes through Scorpius during the last part of November. Some refer to Scorpius as the “Thanksgiving constellation” because the Sun is generally in Scorpius during the range of dates on which Thanksgiving can occur. (November 22 – 28)
Libra’s two brightest stars, Zubenelgenubi and Zubenelschmali, are the Northern and Southern claws, respectively. These star names represent the last remnant of what used to be the strong and dangerous claws of the now declawed Scorpion.
