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About *Astronomy 2e*

*Astronomy 2e* is written in clear non-technical language, with the occasional touch of humor and a wide range of clarifying illustrations. It has many analogies drawn from everyday life to help non-science majors appreciate, on their own terms, what our modern exploration of the universe is revealing. The book can be used for either a one-semester or two-semester introductory course (bear in mind, you can customize your version and include only those chapters or sections you will be teaching.) It is made available free of charge in electronic form (and low cost in printed form) to students around the world.

Additional resources

About the authors

Science and the Universe: A Brief Tour

Introduction

The Nature of Astronomy

The Nature of Science

The Laws of Nature

Numbers in Astronomy

Consequences of Light Travel Time

A Tour of the Universe

The Universe on the Large Scale

The Universe of the Very Small

A Conclusion and a Beginning

Observing the Sky: The Birth of Astronomy

Thinking Ahead

The Sky Above

The Celestial Sphere

If you go on a camping trip or live far from city lights, your view of the sky on a clear night is pretty much identical to that seen by people all over the world before the invention of the telescope. Gazing up, you get the impression that the sky is a great hollow dome with you at the center ([link]), and all the stars are an equal distance from you on the surface of the dome. The top of that dome, the point directly above your head, is called the zenith, and where the dome meets Earth is called the horizon. From the sea or a flat prairie, it is easy to see the horizon as a circle around you, but from most places where people live today, the horizon is at least partially hidden by mountains, trees, buildings, or smog.

Celestial Poles and Celestial Equator

To help orient us in the turning sky, astronomers use a system that extends Earth’s axis points into the sky. Imagine a line going through Earth, connecting the North and South Poles. This is Earth’s axis, and Earth rotates about this line. If we extend this imaginary line outward from Earth, the points where this line intersects the celestial sphere are called the *north celestial pole* and the *south celestial pole*. As Earth rotates about its axis, the sky appears to turn in the opposite direction around those celestial poles ([link]). We also (in our imagination) throw Earth’s equator onto the sky and call this the celestial equator. It lies halfway between the celestial poles, just as Earth’s equator lies halfway between our planet’s poles.

Rising and Setting of the Sun

We described the movement of stars in the night sky, but what about during the daytime? The stars continue to circle during the day, but the brilliance of the Sun makes them difficult to see. (The Moon can often be seen in the daylight, however.) On any given day, we can think of the Sun as being located at some position on the hypothetical celestial sphere. When the Sun rises—that is, when the rotation of Earth carries the Sun above the horizon—sunlight is scattered by the molecules of our atmosphere, filling our sky with light and hiding the stars above the horizon.

Fixed and Wandering Stars

The Sun is not the only object that moves among the fixed stars. The Moon and each of the planets that are visible to the unaided eye—Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus (although just barely)—also change their positions slowly from day to day. During a single day, the Moon and planets all rise and set as Earth turns, just as the Sun and stars do. But like the Sun, they have independent motions among the stars, superimposed on the daily rotation of the celestial sphere. Noticing these motions, the Greeks of 2000 years ago distinguished between what they called the *fixed stars*—those that maintain fixed patterns among themselves through many generations—and the *wandering stars*, or planets. The word “planet,” in fact, means “wanderer” in ancient Greek.

Constellations

The backdrop for the motions of the “wanderers” in the sky is the canopy of stars. If there were no clouds in the sky and we were on a flat plain with nothing to obstruct our view, we could see about 3000 stars with the unaided eye. To find their way around such a multitude, the ancients found groupings of stars that made some familiar geometric pattern or (more rarely) resembled something they knew. Each civilization found its own patterns in the stars, much like a modern Rorschach test in which you are asked to discern patterns or pictures in a set of inkblots. The ancient Chinese, Egyptians, and Greeks, among others, found their own groupings—or constellations—of stars. These were helpful in navigating among the stars and in passing their star lore on to their children.

Ancient Astronomy

Astronomy around the World

Ancient Babylonian, Assyrian, and Egyptian astronomers knew the approximate length of the year. The Egyptians of 3000 years ago, for example, adopted a calendar based on a 365-day year. They kept careful track of the rising time of the bright star Sirius in the predawn sky, which has a yearly cycle that corresponded with the flooding of the Nile River. The Chinese also had a working calendar; they determined the length of the year at about the same time as the Egyptians. The Chinese also recorded comets, bright meteors, and dark spots on the Sun. (Many types of astronomical objects were introduced in Science and the Universe: A Brief Tour. If you are not familiar with terms like *comets* and *meteors*, you may want to review that chapter.) Later, Chinese astronomers kept careful records of “guest stars”—those that are normally too faint to see but suddenly flare up to become visible to the unaided eye for a few weeks or months. We still use some of these records in studying stars that exploded a long time ago.

Early Greek and Roman Cosmology

Our concept of the cosmos—its basic structure and origin—is called cosmology, a word with Greek roots. Before the invention of telescopes, humans had to depend on the simple evidence of their senses for a picture of the universe. The ancients developed cosmologies that combined their direct view of the heavens with a rich variety of philosophical and religious symbolism.

Measurement of Earth by Eratosthenes

The Greeks not only knew Earth was round, but also they were able to measure its size. The first fairly accurate determination of Earth’s diameter was made in about 200 BCE by Eratosthenes (276–194 BCE), a Greek living in Alexandria, Egypt. His method was a geometric one, based on observations of the Sun.

Hipparchus and Precession

Perhaps the greatest astronomer of antiquity was Hipparchus, born in Nicaea in what is present-day Turkey. He erected an observatory on the island of Rhodes around 150 BCE, when the Roman Republic was expanding its influence throughout the Mediterranean region. There he measured, as accurately as possible, the positions of objects in the sky, compiling a pioneering star catalog with about 850 entries. He designated celestial coordinates for each star, specifying its position in the sky, just as we specify the position of a point on Earth by giving its latitude and longitude.

Ptolemy’s Model of the Solar System

The last great astronomer of the Roman era was Claudius Ptolemy (or Ptolemaeus), who flourished in Alexandria in about the year 140. He wrote a mammoth compilation of astronomical knowledge, which today is called by its Arabic name, *Almagest* (meaning “The Greatest”). *Almagest* does not deal exclusively with Ptolemy’s own work; it includes a discussion of the astronomical achievements of the past, principally those of Hipparchus. Today, it is our main source of information about the work of Hipparchus and other Greek astronomers.

Astrology and Astronomy

The Beginnings of Astrology

Astrology began in Babylonia about two and half millennia ago. The Babylonians, believing the planets and their motions influenced the fortunes of kings and nations, used their knowledge of astronomy to guide their rulers. When the Babylonian culture was absorbed by the Greeks, astrology gradually came to influence the entire Western world and eventually spread to Asia as well.

The Horoscope

The key to natal astrology is the horoscope, a chart showing the positions of the planets in the sky at the moment of an individual’s birth. The word “horoscope” comes from the Greek words *hora* (meaning “time”) and *skopos* (meaning a “watcher” or “marker”), so “horoscope” can literally be translated as “marker of the hour.” When a horoscope is charted, the planets (including the Sun and Moon, classed as *wanderers* by the ancients) must first be located in the zodiac. At the time astrology was set up, the zodiac was divided into 12 sectors called *signs* ([link]), each 30° long. Each sign was named after a constellation in the sky through which the Sun, Moon, and planets were seen to pass—the sign of Virgo after the constellation of Virgo, for example.

Astrology Today

Astrologers today use the same basic principles laid down by Ptolemy nearly 2000 years ago. They cast horoscopes (a process much simplified by the development of appropriate computer programs) and suggest interpretations. Sun sign astrology (which you read in the newspapers and many magazines) is a recent, simplified variant of natal astrology. Although even professional astrologers do not place much trust in such a limited scheme, which tries to fit everyone into just 12 groups, sun sign astrology is taken seriously by many people (perhaps because it is discussed so commonly in the media).

The Birth of Modern Astronomy

Copernicus

One of the most important events of the Renaissance was the displacement of Earth from the center of the universe, an intellectual revolution initiated by a Polish cleric in the sixteenth century. Nicolaus Copernicus was born in Torun, a mercantile town along the Vistula River. His training was in law and medicine, but his main interests were astronomy and mathematics. His great contribution to science was a critical reappraisal of the existing theories of planetary motion and the development of a new Sun-centered, or heliocentric, model of the solar system. Copernicus concluded that Earth is a planet and that all the planets circle the Sun. Only the Moon orbits Earth ([link]).

The Heliocentric Model

The most important idea in Copernicus’ *De Revolutionibus* is that Earth is one of six (then-known) planets that revolve about the Sun. Using this concept, he was able to work out the correct general picture of the solar system. He placed the planets, starting nearest the Sun, in the correct order: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Further, he deduced that the nearer a planet is to the Sun, the greater its orbital speed. With his theory, he was able to explain the complex retrograde motions of the planets without epicycles and to work out a roughly correct scale for the solar system.

Galileo and the Beginning of Modern Science

Many of the modern scientific concepts of observation, experimentation, and the testing of hypotheses through careful quantitative measurements were pioneered by a man who lived nearly a century after Copernicus. Galileo Galilei ([link]), a contemporary of Shakespeare, was born in Pisa. Like Copernicus, he began training for a medical career, but he had little interest in the subject and later switched to mathematics. He held faculty positions at the University of Pisa and the University of Padua, and eventually became mathematician to the Grand Duke of Tuscany in Florence.

Galileo’s Astronomical Observations

It is not certain who first conceived of the idea of combining two or more pieces of glass to produce an instrument that enlarged images of distant objects, making them appear nearer. The first such “spyglasses” (now called *telescopes*) that attracted much notice were made in 1608 by the Dutch spectacle maker Hans Lippershey (1570–1619). Galileo heard of the discovery and, without ever having seen an assembled telescope, constructed one of his own with a three-power magnification (3×), which made distant objects appear three times nearer and larger ([link]).

Orbits and Gravity

Thinking Ahead

The Laws of Planetary Motion

Tycho Brahe’s Observatory

Three years after the publication of Copernicus’ *De Revolutionibus*, Tycho Brahe was born to a family of Danish nobility. He developed an early interest in astronomy and, as a young man, made significant astronomical observations. Among these was a careful study of what we now know was an exploding star that flared up to great brilliance in the night sky. His growing reputation gained him the patronage of the Danish King Frederick II, and at the age of 30, Brahe was able to establish a fine astronomical observatory on the North Sea island of Hven ([link]). Brahe was the last and greatest of the pre-telescopic observers in Europe.

Johannes Kepler

Johannes Kepler was born into a poor family in the German province of Württemberg and lived much of his life amid the turmoil of the Thirty Years’ War (see [link]). He attended university at Tubingen and studied for a theological career. There, he learned the principles of the Copernican system and became converted to the heliocentric hypothesis. Eventually, Kepler went to Prague to serve as an assistant to Brahe, who set him to work trying to find a satisfactory theory of planetary motion—one that was compatible with the long series of observations made at Hven. Brahe was reluctant to provide Kepler with much material at any one time for fear that Kepler would discover the secrets of the universal motion by himself, thereby robbing Brahe of some of the glory. Only after Brahe’s death in 1601 did Kepler get full possession of the priceless records. Their study occupied most of Kepler’s time for more than 20 years.

The First Two Laws of Planetary Motion

The path of an object through space is called its orbit. Kepler initially assumed that the orbits of planets were circles, but doing so did not allow him to find orbits that were consistent with Brahe’s observations. Working with the data for Mars, he eventually discovered that the orbit of that planet had the shape of a somewhat flattened circle, or ellipse. Next to the circle, the ellipse is the simplest kind of closed curve, belonging to a family of curves known as *conic sections* ([link]).

Kepler’s Third Law

Kepler’s first two laws of planetary motion describe the shape of a planet’s orbit and allow us to calculate the speed of its motion at any point in the orbit. Kepler was pleased to have discovered such fundamental rules, but they did not satisfy his quest to fully understand planetary motions. He wanted to know why the orbits of the planets were spaced as they are and to find a mathematical pattern in their movements—a “harmony of the spheres” as he called it. For many years he worked to discover mathematical relationships governing planetary spacing and the time each planet took to go around the Sun.

Newton’s Great Synthesis

Newton’s Laws of Motion

As a young man in college, Newton became interested in natural philosophy, as science was then called. He worked out some of his first ideas on machines and optics during the plague years of 1665 and 1666, when students were sent home from college. Newton, a moody and often difficult man, continued to work on his ideas in private, even inventing new mathematical tools to help him deal with the complexities involved. Eventually, his friend Edmund Halley (profiled in Comets and Asteroids: Debris of the Solar System) prevailed on him to collect and publish the results of his remarkable investigations on motion and gravity. The result was a volume that set out the underlying system of the physical world, *Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica*. The *Principia*, as the book is generally known, was published at Halley’s expense in 1687.

Interpretation of Newton’s Laws

Newton’s first law is a restatement of one of Galileo’s discoveries, called the *conservation of momentum*. The law states that in the absence of any outside influence, there is a measure of a body’s motion, called its momentum, that remains unchanged. You may have heard the term momentum used in everyday expressions, such as “This bill in Congress has a lot of momentum; it’s going to be hard to stop.”

Mass, Volume, and Density

Before we go on to discuss Newton’s other work, we want to take a brief look at some terms that will be important to sort out clearly. We begin with mass, which is a measure of the amount of material within an object.

Angular Momentum

A concept that is a bit more complex, but important for understanding many astronomical objects, is angular momentum, which is a measure of the rotation of a body as it revolves around some fixed point (an example is a planet orbiting the Sun). The angular momentum of an object is defined as the product of its mass, its velocity, and its distance from the fixed point around which it revolves.

Newton’s Universal Law of Gravitation

Orbital Motion and Mass

Kepler’s laws describe the orbits of the objects whose motions are described by Newton’s laws of motion and the law of gravity. Knowing that gravity is the force that attracts planets toward the Sun, however, allowed Newton to rethink Kepler’s third law. Recall that Kepler had found a relationship between the orbital period of a planet’s revolution and its distance from the Sun. But Newton’s formulation introduces the additional factor of the masses of the Sun (*M*1) and the planet (*M*2), both expressed in units of the Sun’s mass. Newton’s universal law of gravitation can be used to show mathematically that this relationship is actually

Orbits in the Solar System

Orbits of the Planets

Today, Newton’s work enables us to calculate and predict the orbits of the planets with marvelous precision. We know eight planets, beginning with Mercury closest to the Sun and extending outward to Neptune. The average orbital data for the planets are summarized in [link]. (Ceres is the largest of the *asteroids,* now considered a dwarf planet.)

Orbits of Asteroids and Comets

In addition to the eight planets, there are many smaller objects in the solar system. Some of these are moons (natural satellites) that orbit all the planets except Mercury and Venus. In addition, there are two classes of smaller objects in heliocentric orbits: *asteroids* and *comets*. Both asteroids and comets are believed to be small chunks of material left over from the formation process of the solar system.

Motions of Satellites and Spacecraft

Interplanetary Spacecraft

The exploration of the solar system has been carried out largely by robot spacecraft sent to the other planets. To escape Earth, these craft must achieve escape speed, the speed needed to move away from Earth forever, which is about 11 kilometers per second (about 25,000 miles per hour). After escaping Earth, these craft coast to their targets, subject only to minor trajectory adjustments provided by small thruster rockets on board. In interplanetary flight, these spacecraft follow orbits around the Sun that are modified only when they pass near one of the planets.

Gravity with More Than Two Bodies

The Interactions of Many Bodies

As an example, suppose you have a cluster of a thousand stars all orbiting a common center (such clusters are quite common, as we shall see in Star Clusters). If we know the exact position of each star at any given instant, we can calculate the combined gravitational force of the entire group on any one member of the cluster. Knowing the force on the star in question, we can therefore find how it will accelerate. If we know how it was moving to begin with, we can then calculate how it will move in the next instant of time, thus tracking its motion.

The Discovery of Neptune

The discovery of the eighth planet, Neptune, was one of the high points in the development of gravitational theory. In 1781, William Herschel, a musician and amateur astronomer, accidentally discovered the seventh planet, Uranus. It happens that Uranus had been observed a century before, but in none of those earlier sightings was it recognized as a planet; rather, it was simply recorded as a star. Herschel’s discovery showed that there could be planets in the solar system too dim to be visible to the unaided eye, but ready to be discovered with a telescope if we just knew where to look.

Earth, Moon, and Sky

Thinking Ahead

Earth and Sky

Locating Places on Earth

Let’s begin by fixing our position on the surface of planet Earth. As we discussed in Observing the Sky: The Birth of Astronomy, Earth’s axis of rotation defines the locations of its North and South Poles and of its equator, halfway between. Two other directions are also defined by Earth’s motions: east is the direction toward which Earth rotates, and west is its opposite. At almost any point on Earth, the four directions—north, south, east, and west—are well defined, despite the fact that our planet is round rather than flat. The only exceptions are exactly at the North and South Poles, where the directions east and west are ambiguous (because points exactly at the poles do not turn).

Locating Places in the Sky

Positions in the sky are measured in a way that is very similar to the way we measure positions on the surface of Earth. Instead of latitude and longitude, however, astronomers use coordinates called declination and right ascension. To denote positions of objects in the sky, it is often convenient to make use of the fictitious celestial sphere. We saw in Observing the Sky: The Birth of Astronomy that the sky appears to rotate about points above the North and South Poles of Earth—points in the sky called the north celestial pole and the south celestial pole. Halfway between the celestial poles, and thus 90° from each pole, is the *celestial equator,* a great circle on the celestial sphere that is in the same plane as Earth’s equator. We can use these markers in the sky to set up a system of celestial coordinates.

The Turning Earth

Why do many stars rise and set each night? Why, in other words, does the night sky seem to turn? We have seen that the apparent rotation of the celestial sphere could be accounted for either by a daily rotation of the sky around a stationary Earth or by the rotation of Earth itself. Since the seventeenth century, it has been generally accepted that it is Earth that turns, but not until the nineteenth century did the French physicist Jean Foucault provide an unambiguous demonstration of this rotation. In 1851, he suspended a 60-meter pendulum with a mass of about 25 kilograms from the dome of the Pantheon in Paris and started the pendulum swinging evenly. If Earth had not been turning, there would have been no alteration of the pendulum’s plane of oscillation, and so it would have continued tracing the same path. Yet after a few minutes Foucault could see that the pendulum’s plane of motion was turning. Foucault explained that it was not the pendulum that was shifting, but rather Earth that was turning beneath it ([link]). You can now find such pendulums in many science centers and planetariums around the world.

The Seasons

The Seasons and Sunshine

[link] shows Earth’s annual path around the Sun, with Earth’s axis tilted by 23.5°. Note that our axis continues to point the same direction in the sky throughout the year. As Earth travels around the Sun, in June the Northern Hemisphere “leans into” the Sun and is more directly illuminated. In December, the situation is reversed: the Southern Hemisphere leans into the Sun, and the Northern Hemisphere leans away. In September and March, Earth leans “sideways”—neither into the Sun nor away from it—so the two hemispheres are equally favored with sunshine.

The Seasons at Different Latitudes

The seasonal effects are different at different latitudes on Earth. Near the equator, for instance, all seasons are much the same. Every day of the year, the Sun is up half the time, so there are approximately 12 hours of sunshine and 12 hours of night. Local residents define the seasons by the amount of rain (wet season and dry season) rather than by the amount of sunlight. As we travel north or south, the seasons become more pronounced, until we reach extreme cases in the Arctic and Antarctic.

Clarifications about the Real World

In our discussions so far, we have been describing the rising and setting of the Sun and stars as they would appear if Earth had little or no atmosphere. In reality, however, the atmosphere has the curious effect of allowing us to see a little way “over the horizon.” This effect is a result of *refraction*, the bending of light passing through air or water, something we will discuss in Astronomical Instruments. Because of this atmospheric refraction (and the fact that the Sun is not a point of light but a disk), the Sun appears to rise earlier and to set later than it would if no atmosphere were present.

Keeping Time

The Length of the Day

The most fundamental astronomical unit of time is the day, measured in terms of the rotation of Earth. There is, however, more than one way to define the day. Usually, we think of it as the rotation period of Earth with respect to the Sun, called the solar day. After all, for most people sunrise is more important than the rising time of Arcturus or some other star, so we set our clocks to some version of Sun-time. However, astronomers also use a sidereal day, which is defined in terms of the rotation period of Earth with respect to the stars.

Apparent Solar Time

We can define apparent solar time as time reckoned by the actual position of the Sun in the sky (or, during the night, its position below the horizon). This is the kind of time indicated by sundials, and it probably represents the earliest measure of time used by ancient civilizations. Today, we adopt the middle of the night as the starting point of the day and measure time in hours elapsed since midnight.

Mean Solar Time and Standard Time

Instead, we can consider the mean solar time, which is based on the average value of the solar day over the course of the year. A mean solar day contains exactly 24 hours and is what we use in our everyday timekeeping. Although mean solar time has the advantage of progressing at a uniform rate, it is still inconvenient for practical use because it is determined by the position of the Sun. For example, noon occurs when the Sun is highest in the sky on the meridian (but not necessarily at the zenith). But because we live on a round Earth, the exact time of noon is different as you change your longitude by moving east or west.

The International Date Line

The fact that time is always advancing as you move toward the east presents a problem. Suppose you travel eastward around the world. You pass into a new time zone, on the average, about every 15° of longitude you travel, and each time you dutifully set your watch ahead an hour. By the time you have completed your trip, you have set your watch ahead a full 24 hours and thus gained a day over those who stayed at home.

The Calendar

The Challenge of the Calendar

There are two traditional functions of any calendar. First, it must keep track of time over the course of long spans, allowing people to anticipate the cycle of the seasons and to honor special religious or personal anniversaries. Second, to be useful to a large number of people, a calendar must use natural time intervals that everyone can agree on—those defined by the motions of Earth, the Moon, and sometimes even the planets. The natural units of our calendar are the *day*, based on the period of rotation of Earth; the *month*, based on the cycle of the Moon’s phases (see later in this chapter) about Earth; and the year, based on the period of revolution of Earth about the Sun. Difficulties have resulted from the fact that these three periods are not commensurable; that’s a fancy way of saying that one does not divide evenly into any of the others.

Early Calendars

Even the earliest cultures were concerned with the keeping of time and the calendar. Some interesting examples include monuments left by Bronze Age people in northwestern Europe, especially the British Isles. The best preserved of the monuments is Stonehenge, about 13 kilometers from Salisbury in southwest England ([link]). It is a complex array of stones, ditches, and holes arranged in concentric circles. Carbon dating and other studies show that Stonehenge was built during three periods ranging from about 2800 to 1500 BCE. Some of the stones are aligned with the directions of the Sun and Moon during their risings and settings at critical times of the year (such as the summer and winter solstices), and it is generally believed that at least one function of the monument was connected with the keeping of a calendar.

The Gregorian Calendar

Although the Julian calendar (which was adopted by the early Christian Church) represented a great advance, its average year still differed from the true year by about 11 minutes, an amount that accumulates over the centuries to an appreciable error. By 1582, that 11 minutes per year had added up to the point where the first day of spring was occurring on March 11, instead of March 21. If the trend were allowed to continue, eventually the Christian celebration of Easter would be occurring in early winter. Pope Gregory XIII, a contemporary of Galileo, felt it necessary to institute further calendar reform.

Phases and Motions of the Moon

Lunar Phases

Although we know that the Sun moves 1/12 of its path around the sky each month, for purposes of explaining the phases, we can assume that the Sun’s light comes from roughly the same direction during the course of a four-week lunar cycle. The Moon, on the other hand, moves completely around Earth in that time. As we watch the Moon from our vantage point on Earth, how much of its face we see illuminated by sunlight depends on the angle the Sun makes with the Moon.

The Moon’s Revolution and Rotation

The Moon’s sidereal period—that is, the period of its revolution about Earth measured with respect to the stars—is a little over 27 days: the sidereal month is 27.3217 days to be exact. The time interval in which the phases repeat—say, from full to full—is the solar month, 29.5306 days. The difference results from Earth’s motion around the Sun. The Moon must make more than a complete turn around the moving Earth to get back to the same phase with respect to the Sun. As we saw, the Moon changes its position on the celestial sphere rather rapidly: even during a single evening, the Moon creeps visibly eastward among the stars, traveling its own width in a little less than 1 hour. The delay in moonrise from one day to the next caused by this eastward motion averages about 50 minutes.

Ocean Tides and the Moon

The Pull of the Moon on Earth

The gravitational forces exerted by the Moon at several points on Earth are illustrated in [link]. These forces differ slightly from one another because Earth is not a point, but has a certain size: all parts are not equally distant from the Moon, nor are they all in exactly the same direction from the Moon. Moreover, Earth is not perfectly rigid. As a result, the differences among the forces of the Moon’s attraction on different parts of Earth (called *differential forces*) cause Earth to distort slightly. The side of Earth nearest the Moon is attracted toward the Moon more strongly than is the center of Earth, which in turn is attracted more strongly than is the side opposite the Moon. Thus, the differential forces tend to stretch Earth slightly into an *oblate spheroid* (which is something like an American football shape), with its long diameter pointed toward the Moon.

The Formation of Tides

The tide-raising forces, acting over a number of hours, produce motions of the water that result in measurable tidal bulges in the oceans. Water on the side of Earth facing the Moon flows toward it, with the greatest depths roughly at the point below the Moon. On the side of Earth opposite the Moon, water also flows to produce a tidal bulge ([link]).

Eclipses of the Sun and Moon

Eclipses of the Sun

The apparent or angular sizes of both the Sun and Moon vary slightly from time to time as their distances from Earth vary. ([link] shows the distance of the observer varying at points 1–4, but the idea is the same.) Much of the time, the Moon looks slightly smaller than the Sun and cannot cover it completely, even if the two are perfectly aligned. In this type of “annular eclipse,” there is a ring of light around the dark sphere of the Moon.

Appearance of a Total Eclipse

What can you see if you are lucky enough to catch a total eclipse? A solar eclipse starts when the Moon just begins to silhouette itself against the edge of the Sun’s disk. A partial phase follows, during which more and more of the Sun is covered by the Moon. About an hour after the eclipse begins, the Sun becomes completely hidden behind the Moon. In the few minutes immediately before this period of totality begins, the sky noticeably darkens, some flowers close up, and chickens may go to roost. As an eerie twilight suddenly descends during the day, other animals (and people) may get disoriented. During totality, the sky is dark enough that planets become visible in the sky, and usually the brighter stars do as well.

Eclipses of the Moon

A lunar eclipse occurs when the Moon enters the shadow of Earth. The geometry of a lunar eclipse is shown in [link]. Earth’s dark shadow is about 1.4 million kilometers long, so at the Moon’s distance (an average of 384,000 kilometers), it could cover about four full moons. Unlike a solar eclipse, which is visible only in certain local areas on Earth, a lunar eclipse is visible to everyone who can see the Moon. Because a lunar eclipse can be seen (weather permitting) from the entire night side of Earth, lunar eclipses are observed far more frequently from a given place on Earth than are solar eclipses.

Radiation and Spectra

Thinking Ahead

The Behavior of Light

Maxwell’s Theory of Electromagnetism

We will look at the structure of the atom in more detail later, but we begin by noting that the typical atom consists of several types of particles, a number of which have not only mass but an additional property called electric charge. In the nucleus (central part) of every atom are *protons*, which are positively charged; outside the nucleus are electrons, which have a negative charge.

The Wave-Like Characteristics of Light

The changing electric and magnetic fields in light are similar to the waves that can be set up in a quiet pool of water. In both cases, the disturbance travels rapidly outward from the point of origin and can use its energy to disturb other things farther away. (For example, in water, the expanding ripples moving away from our frog could disturb the peace of a dragonfly resting on a leaf in the same pool.) In the case of electromagnetic waves, the radiation generated by a transmitting antenna full of charged particles and moving electrons at your local radio station can, sometime later, disturb a group of electrons in your car radio antenna and bring you the news and weather while you are driving to class or work in the morning.

Light as a Photon

The electromagnetic wave model of light (as formulated by Maxwell) was one of the great triumphs of nineteenth-century science. In 1887, when Heinrich Hertz actually made invisible electromagnetic waves (what today are called radio waves) on one side of a room and detected them on the other side, it ushered in a new era that led to the modern age of telecommunications. His experiment ultimately led to the technologies of television, cell phones, and today’s wireless networks around the globe.

Propagation of Light

Let’s think for a moment about how light from a lightbulb moves through space. As waves expand, they travel away from the bulb, not just toward your eyes but in all directions. They must therefore cover an ever-widening space. Yet the total amount of light available can’t change once the light has left the bulb. This means that, as the same expanding shell of light covers a larger and larger area, there must be less and less of it in any given place. Light (and all other electromagnetic radiation) gets weaker and weaker as it gets farther from its source.

The Electromagnetic Spectrum

Types of Electromagnetic Radiation

Electromagnetic radiation with the shortest wavelengths, no longer than 0.01 nanometer, is categorized as gamma rays (1 nanometer = 10–9 meters; see Appendix D). The name *gamma* comes from the third letter of the Greek alphabet: gamma rays were the third kind of radiation discovered coming from radioactive atoms when physicists first investigated their behavior. Because gamma rays carry a lot of energy, they can be dangerous for living tissues. Gamma radiation is generated deep in the interior of stars, as well as by some of the most violent phenomena in the universe, such as the deaths of stars and the merging of stellar corpses. Gamma rays coming to Earth are absorbed by our atmosphere before they reach the ground (which is a good thing for our health); thus, they can only be studied using instruments in space.

Radiation and Temperature

Some astronomical objects emit mostly infrared radiation, others mostly visible light, and still others mostly ultraviolet radiation. What determines the type of electromagnetic radiation emitted by the Sun, stars, and other dense astronomical objects? The answer often turns out to be their *temperature*.

Radiation Laws

To understand, in more quantitative detail, the relationship between temperature and electromagnetic radiation, we imagine an idealized object called a blackbody. Such an object (unlike your sweater or your astronomy instructor’s head) does not reflect or scatter any radiation, but absorbs all the electromagnetic energy that falls onto it. The energy that is absorbed causes the atoms and molecules in it to vibrate or move around at increasing speeds. As it gets hotter, this object will radiate electromagnetic waves until absorption and radiation are in balance. We want to discuss such an idealized object because, as you will see, stars behave in very nearly the same way.

Spectroscopy in Astronomy

Properties of Light

Light exhibits certain behaviors that are important to the design of telescopes and other instruments. For example, light can be *reflected* from a surface. If the surface is smooth and shiny, as with a mirror, the direction of the reflected light beam can be calculated accurately from knowledge of the shape of the reflecting surface. Light is also bent, or *refracted*, when it passes from one kind of transparent material into another—say, from the air into a glass lens.

The Value of Stellar Spectra

When Newton described the laws of refraction and dispersion in optics, and observed the solar spectrum, all he could see was a continuous band of colors. If the spectrum of the white light from the Sun and stars were simply a continuous rainbow of colors, astronomers would have little interest in the detailed study of a star’s spectrum once they had learned its average surface temperature. In 1802, however, William Wollaston built an improved spectrometer that included a lens to focus the Sun’s spectrum on a screen. With this device, Wollaston saw that the colors were not spread out uniformly, but instead, some ranges of color were missing, appearing as dark bands in the solar spectrum. He mistakenly attributed these lines to natural boundaries between the colors. In 1815, German physicist Joseph Fraunhofer, upon a more careful examination of the solar spectrum, found about 600 such dark lines (missing colors), which led scientists to rule out the boundary hypothesis ([link]).

Types of Spectra

In these experiments, then, there were three different types of spectra. A continuous spectrum (formed when a solid or very dense gas gives off radiation) is an array of all wavelengths or colors of the rainbow. A continuous spectrum can serve as a backdrop from which the atoms of much less dense gas can absorb light. A dark line, or absorption spectrum, consists of a series or pattern of dark lines—missing colors—superimposed upon the continuous spectrum of a source. A bright line, or emission spectrum, appears as a pattern or series of bright lines; it consists of light in which only certain discrete wavelengths are present. ([link] shows an absorption spectrum, whereas [link] shows the emission spectrum of a number of common elements along with an example of a continuous spectrum.)

The Structure of the Atom

Probing the Atom

The first of these smaller particles was discovered by British physicist James (J. J.) Thomson in 1897. Named the *electron*, this particle is negatively charged. (It is the flow of these particles that produces currents of electricity, whether in lightning bolts or in the wires leading to your lamp.) Because an atom in its normal state is electrically neutral, each electron in an atom must be balanced by the same amount of positive charge.

The Atomic Nucleus

The simplest possible atom (and the most common one in the Sun and stars) is hydrogen. The nucleus of ordinary hydrogen contains a single proton. Moving around this proton is a single electron. The mass of an electron is nearly 2000 times smaller than the mass of a proton; the electron carries an amount of charge exactly equal to that of the proton but opposite in sign ([link]). Opposite charges attract each other, so it is an electromagnetic force that holds the proton and electron together, just as gravity is the force that keeps planets in orbit around the Sun.

The Bohr Atom

Rutherford’s model for atoms has one serious problem. Maxwell’s theory of electromagnetic radiation says that when electrons change either speed or the direction of motion, they must emit energy. Orbiting electrons constantly change their direction of motion, so they should emit a constant stream of energy. Applying Maxwell’s theory to Rutherford’s model, all electrons should spiral into the nucleus of the atom as they lose energy, and this collapse should happen very quickly—in about 10–16 seconds.

Formation of Spectral Lines

The Hydrogen Spectrum

Let’s look at the hydrogen atom from the perspective of the Bohr model. Suppose a beam of white light (which consists of photons of all visible wavelengths) shines through a gas of atomic hydrogen. A photon of wavelength 656 nanometers has just the right energy to raise an electron in a hydrogen atom from the second to the third orbit. Thus, as all the photons of different energies (or wavelengths or colors) stream by the hydrogen atoms, photons with *this* particular wavelength can be absorbed by those atoms whose electrons are orbiting on the second level. When they are absorbed, the electrons on the second level will move to the third level, and a number of the photons of this wavelength and energy will be missing from the general stream of white light.

Energy Levels and Excitation

Bohr’s model of the hydrogen atom was a great step forward in our understanding of the atom. However, we know today that atoms cannot be represented by quite so simple a picture. For example, the concept of sharply defined electron orbits is not really correct; however, at the level of this introductory course, the notion that only certain discrete energies are allowable for an atom is very useful. The energy levels we have been discussing can be thought of as representing certain average distances of the electron’s possible orbits from the atomic nucleus.

Ionization

We have described how certain discrete amounts of energy can be absorbed by an atom, raising it to an excited state and moving one of its electrons farther from its nucleus. If enough energy is absorbed, the electron can be completely removed from the atom—this is called ionization. The atom is then said to be ionized. The minimum amount of energy required to remove one electron from an atom in its ground state is called its ionization energy.

The Doppler Effect

Motion Affects Waves

In 1842, Christian Doppler first measured the effect of motion on waves by hiring a group of musicians to play on an open railroad car as it was moving along the track. He then applied what he learned to all waves, including light, and pointed out that if a light source is approaching or receding from the observer, the light waves will be, respectively, crowded more closely together or spread out. The general principle, now known as the Doppler effect, is illustrated in [link].

Color Shifts

When the source of waves moves toward you, the wavelength decreases a bit. If the waves involved are visible light, then the colors of the light change slightly. As wavelength decreases, they shift toward the blue end of the spectrum: astronomers call this a *blueshift* (since the end of the spectrum is really violet, the term should probably be *violetshift*, but blue is a more common color). When the source moves away from you and the wavelength gets longer, we call the change in colors a *redshift*. Because the Doppler effect was first used with visible light in astronomy, the terms “blueshift” and “redshift” became well established. Today, astronomers use these words to describe changes in the wavelengths of radio waves or X-rays as comfortably as they use them to describe changes in visible light.

Astronomical Instruments

Thinking Ahead

Telescopes

Systems for Measuring Radiation

There are three basic components of a modern system for measuring radiation from astronomical sources. First, there is a telescope, which serves as a “bucket” for collecting visible light (or radiation at other wavelengths, as shown in ([link]). Just as you can catch more rain with a garbage can than with a coffee cup, large telescopes gather much more light than your eye can. Second, there is an instrument attached to the telescope that sorts the incoming radiation by wavelength. Sometimes the sorting is fairly crude. For example, we might simply want to separate blue light from red light so that we can determine the temperature of a star. But at other times, we want to see individual spectral lines to determine what an object is made of, or to measure its speed (as explained in the Radiation and Spectra chapter). Third, we need some type of detector, a device that senses the radiation in the wavelength regions we have chosen and permanently records the observations.

How Telescopes Work

Telescopes have come a long way since Galileo’s time. Now they tend to be huge devices; the most expensive cost hundreds of millions to billions of dollars. (To provide some reference point, however, keep in mind that just renovating college football stadiums typically costs hundreds of millions of dollars—with the most expensive recent renovation, at Texas A&M University’s Kyle Field, costing \$450 million.) The reason astronomers keep building bigger and bigger telescopes is that celestial objects—such as planets, stars, and galaxies—send much more light to Earth than any human eye (with its tiny opening) can catch, and bigger telescopes can detect fainter objects. If you have ever watched the stars with a group of friends, you know that there’s plenty of starlight to go around; each of you can see each of the stars. If a thousand more people were watching, each of them would also catch a bit of each star’s light. Yet, as far as you are concerned, the light not shining into your eye is wasted. It would be great if some of this “wasted” light could also be captured and brought to your eye. This is precisely what a telescope does.

Formation of an Image by a Lens or a Mirror

Whether or not you wear glasses, you see the world through lenses; they are key elements of your eyes. A lens is a transparent piece of material that bends the rays of light passing through it. If the light rays are parallel as they enter, the lens brings them together in one place to form an image ([link]). If the curvatures of the lens surfaces are just right, all parallel rays of light (say, from a star) are bent, or *refracted*, in such a way that they converge toward a point, called the focus of the lens. At the focus, an image of the light source appears. In the case of parallel light rays, the distance from the lens to the location where the light rays focus, or image, behind the lens is called the *focal length* of the lens.

Telescopes Today

Modern Visible-Light and Infrared Telescopes

The decades starting in 1990 saw telescope building around the globe grow at an unprecedented rate. (See [link], which also includes websites for each telescope in case you want to visit or learn more about them.) Technological advancements had finally made it possible to build telescopes significantly larger than the 5-meter telescope at Palomar at a reasonable cost. New technologies have also been designed to work well in the infrared, and not just visible, wavelengths.

Picking the Best Observing Sites

A telescope like the Gemini or Keck telescope costs about \$100 million to build. That kind of investment demands that the telescope be placed in the best possible site. Since the end of the nineteenth century, astronomers have realized that the best observatory sites are on mountains, far from the lights and pollution of cities. Although a number of urban observatories remain, especially in the large cities of Europe, they have become administrative centers or museums. The real action takes place far away, often on desert mountains or isolated peaks in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, where we find the staff’s living quarters, computers, electronic and machine shops, and of course the telescopes themselves. A large observatory today requires a supporting staff of 20 to 100 people in addition to the astronomers.

The Resolution of a Telescope

In addition to gathering as much light as they can, astronomers also want to have the sharpest images possible. Resolution refers to the precision of detail present in an image: that is, the smallest features that can be distinguished. Astronomers are always eager to make out more detail in the images they study, whether they are following the weather on Jupiter or trying to peer into the violent heart of a “cannibal galaxy” that recently ate its neighbor for lunch.

Visible-Light Detectors and Instruments

Photographic and Electronic Detectors

Throughout most of the twentieth century, photographic film or *glass plates* served as the prime astronomical detectors, whether for photographing spectra or direct images of celestial objects. In a photographic plate, a light-sensitive chemical coating is applied to a piece of glass that, when developed, provides a lasting record of the image. At observatories around the world, vast collections of photographs preserve what the sky has looked like during the past 100 years. Photography represents a huge improvement over the human eye, but it still has limitations. Photographic films are inefficient: only about 1% of the light that actually falls on the film contributes to the chemical change that makes the image; the rest is wasted.

Infrared Observations

Observing the universe in the infrared band of the spectrum presents some additional challenges. The infrared region extends from wavelengths near 1 micrometer (µm), which is about the long wavelength sensitivity limit of both CCDs and photography, to 100 micrometers or longer. Recall from the discussion on radiation and spectra that infrared is “heat radiation” (given off at temperatures that we humans are comfortable with). The main challenge to astronomers using infrared is to distinguish between the tiny amount of heat radiation that reaches Earth from stars and galaxies, and the much greater heat radiated by the telescope itself and our planet’s atmosphere.

Spectroscopy

Spectroscopy is one of the astronomer’s most powerful tools, providing information about the composition, temperature, motion, and other characteristics of celestial objects. More than half of the time spent on most large telescopes is used for spectroscopy.

Radio Telescopes

Detection of Radio Energy from Space

It is important to understand that radio waves cannot be “heard”: they are not the sound waves you hear coming out of the radio receiver in your home or car. Like light, radio waves are a form of electromagnetic radiation, but unlike light, we cannot detect them with our senses—we must rely on electronic equipment to pick them up. In commercial radio broadcasting, we encode sound information (music or a newscaster’s voice) into radio waves. These must be decoded at the other end and then turned back into sound by speakers or headphones.

Radio Interferometry

As we discussed earlier, a telescope’s ability to show us fine detail (its resolution) depends upon its aperture, but it also depends upon the wavelength of the radiation that the telescope is gathering. The longer the waves, the harder it is to resolve fine detail in the images or maps we make. Because radio waves have such long wavelengths, they present tremendous challenges for astronomers who need good resolution. In fact, even the largest radio dishes on Earth, operating alone, cannot make out as much detail as the typical small visible-light telescope used in a college astronomy lab. To overcome this difficulty, radio astronomers have learned to sharpen their images by linking two or more radio telescopes together electronically. Two or more telescopes linked together in this way are called an interferometer.

Radar Astronomy

Radar is the technique of transmitting radio waves to an object in our solar system and then detecting the radio radiation that the object reflects back. The time required for the round trip can be measured electronically with great precision. Because we know the speed at which radio waves travel (the speed of light), we can determine the distance to the object or a particular feature on its surface (such as a mountain).

Observations outside Earth’s Atmosphere

Airborne and Space Infrared Telescopes

Water vapor, the main source of atmospheric interference for making infrared observations, is concentrated in the lower part of Earth’s atmosphere. For this reason, a gain of even a few hundred meters in elevation can make an important difference in the quality of an infrared observatory site. Given the limitations of high mountains, most of which attract clouds and violent storms, and the fact that the ability of humans to perform complex tasks degrades at high altitudes, it was natural for astronomers to investigate the possibility of observing infrared waves from airplanes and ultimately from space.

Hubble Space Telescope

In April 1990, a great leap forward in astronomy was made with the launch of the Hubble Space Telescope (HST). It has a mirror 2.4 meters in diameter and has earned a reputation as one of the most important telescopes in the history of astronomy. (Its aperture was limited by the size of the payload bay in the Space Shuttle that served as its launch vehicle.) It was named for Edwin Hubble, the astronomer who discovered the expansion of the universe in the 1920s (whose work we will discuss in the chapters on Galaxies).

James Webb Space Telescope

The largest telescope sent into space so far, and one specifically designed to observe infrared radiation from the universe, is the James Webb Space Telescope. (In a departure from the tradition of naming space telescopes after noted astronomers of the past, it is named after a former administrator at NASA.) Launched on December 25, 2021, the telescope is now in a stable orbit about 1.5 million km from Earth—four times further than the Moon. This is a good, cold location for infrared viewing, but a place where no astronauts can currently travel if the facility needs repair.

High-Energy Observatories

Ultraviolet, X-ray, and direct gamma-ray (high-energy electromagnetic wave) observations can be made only from space. Such observations first became possible in 1946, with V2 rockets captured from Germany after World War II. The US Naval Research Laboratory put instruments on these rockets for a series of pioneering flights, used initially to detect ultraviolet radiation from the Sun. Since then, many other rockets have been launched to make X-ray and ultraviolet observations of the Sun, and later of other celestial objects.

The Future of Large Telescopes

Other Worlds: An Introduction to the Solar System

Thinking Ahead

Overview of Our Planetary System

An Inventory

The Sun, a star that is brighter than about 80% of the stars in the Galaxy, is by far the most massive member of the solar system, as shown in [link]. It is an enormous ball about 1.4 million kilometers in diameter, with surface layers of incandescent gas and an interior temperature of millions of degrees. The Sun will be discussed in later chapters as our first, and best-studied, example of a star.

Smaller Members of the Solar System

Most of the planets are accompanied by one or more moons; only Mercury and Venus move through space alone. There are more than 210 known moons orbiting planets and dwarf planets (see Appendix G for a listing of the larger ones), and undoubtedly many other small ones remain undiscovered. The largest of the moons are as big as small planets and just as interesting. In addition to our Moon, they include the four largest moons of Jupiter (called the Galilean moons, after their discoverer) and the largest moons of Saturn and Neptune (confusingly named Titan and Triton).

A Scale Model of the Solar System

Astronomy often deals with dimensions and distances that far exceed our ordinary experience. What does 1.4 billion kilometers—the distance from the Sun to Saturn—really mean to anyone? It can be helpful to visualize such large systems in terms of a scale model.

Composition and Structure of Planets

The Giant Planets

The two largest planets, Jupiter and Saturn, have nearly the same chemical makeup as the Sun; they are composed primarily of the two elements hydrogen and helium, with 75% of their mass being hydrogen and 25% helium. On Earth, both hydrogen and helium are gases, so Jupiter and Saturn are sometimes called gas planets. But, this name is misleading. Jupiter and Saturn are so large that the gas is compressed in their interior until the hydrogen becomes a liquid. Because the bulk of both planets consists of compressed, liquefied hydrogen, we should really call them liquid planets.

The Terrestrial Planets

The terrestrial planets are quite different from the giants. In addition to being much smaller, they are composed primarily of rocks and metals. These, in turn, are made of elements that are less common in the universe as a whole. The most abundant rocks, called silicates, are made of silicon and oxygen, and the most common metal is iron. We can tell from their densities (see [link]) that Mercury has the greatest proportion of metals (which are denser) and the Moon has the lowest. Earth, Venus, and Mars all have roughly similar bulk compositions: about one third of their mass consists of iron-nickel or iron-sulfur combinations; two thirds is made of silicates. Because these planets are largely composed of oxygen compounds (such as the silicate minerals of their crusts), their chemistry is said to be *oxidized*.

Moons, Asteroids, and Comets

Chemically and structurally, Earth’s Moon is like the terrestrial planets, but most moons are in the outer solar system, and they have compositions similar to the cores of the giant planets around which they orbit. The three largest moons—Ganymede and Callisto in the jovian system, and Titan in the saturnian system—are composed half of frozen water, and half of rocks and metals. Most of these moons differentiated during formation, and today they have cores of rock and metal, with upper layers and crusts of very cold and—thus very hard—ice ([link]).

Temperatures: Going to Extremes

Generally speaking, the farther a planet or moon is from the Sun, the cooler its surface. The planets are heated by the radiant energy of the Sun, which gets weaker with the square of the distance. You know how rapidly the heating effect of a fireplace or an outdoor radiant heater diminishes as you walk away from it; the same effect applies to the Sun. Mercury, the closest planet to the Sun, has a blistering surface temperature that ranges from 280–430 °C on its sunlit side, whereas the surface temperature on Pluto is only about –220 °C, colder than liquid air.

Geological Activity

The crusts of all of the terrestrial planets, as well as of the larger moons, and Pluto, have been modified over their histories by both internal and external forces. Externally, each has been battered by a slow rain of projectiles from space, leaving their surfaces pockmarked by impact craters of all sizes (see [link]). We have good evidence that this bombardment was far greater in the early history of the solar system, but it certainly continues to this day, even if at a lower rate. The collision of more than 20 large pieces of Comet Shoemaker–Levy 9 with Jupiter in the summer of 1994 (see [link]) is one dramatic example of this process.

Dating Planetary Surfaces

Counting the Craters

One way to estimate the age of a surface is by counting the number of impact craters. This technique works because the rate at which impacts have occurred in the solar system has been roughly constant for several billion years. Thus, in the absence of forces to eliminate craters, the number of craters is simply proportional to the length of time the surface has been exposed. This technique has been applied successfully to many solid planets and moons ([link]).

Radioactive Rocks

Another way to trace the history of a solid world is to measure the age of individual rocks. After samples were brought back from the Moon by Apollo astronauts, the techniques that had been developed to date rocks on Earth were applied to rock samples from the Moon to establish a geological chronology for the Moon. Furthermore, a few samples of material from the Moon, Mars, and the large asteroid Vesta have fallen to Earth as meteorites and can be examined directly (see the chapter on Cosmic Samples and the Origin of the Solar System).

Origin of the Solar System

Looking for Patterns

One way to approach our question of origin is to look for regularities among the planets. We found, for example, that all the planets lie in nearly the same plane and revolve in the same direction around the Sun. The Sun also spins in the same direction about its own axis. Astronomers interpret this pattern as evidence that the Sun and planets formed together from a spinning cloud of gas and dust that we call the solar nebula ([link]).

The Evidence from Far Away

A second approach to understanding the origins of the solar system is to look outward for evidence that other systems of planets are forming elsewhere. We cannot look back in time to the formation of our own system, but many stars in space are much younger than the Sun. In these systems, the processes of planet formation might still be accessible to direct observation. We observe that there are many other “solar nebulas” or *circumstellar disks*—flattened, spinning clouds of gas and dust surrounding young stars. These disks resemble our own solar system’s initial stages of formation billions of years ago ([link]).

Building Planets

Circumstellar disks are a common occurrence around very young stars, suggesting that disks and stars form together. Astronomers can use theoretical calculations to see how solid bodies might form from the gas and dust in these disks as they cool. These models show that material begins to coalesce first by forming smaller objects, precursors of the planets, which we call planetesimals.

Earth as a Planet

Thinking Ahead

The Global Perspective

Earth’s Interior

The interior of a planet—even our own Earth—is difficult to study, and its composition and structure must be determined indirectly. Our only direct experience is with the outermost skin of Earth’s crust, a layer no more than a few kilometers deep. It is important to remember that, in many ways, we know less about our own planet 5 kilometers beneath our feet than we do about the surfaces of Venus and Mars.

Magnetic Field and Magnetosphere

We can find additional clues about Earth’s interior from its magnetic field. Our planet behaves in some ways as if a giant bar magnet were inside it, aligned approximately with the rotational poles of Earth. This magnetic field is generated by moving material in Earth’s liquid metallic core. As the liquid metal inside Earth circulates, it sets up a circulating electric current. When many charged particles are moving together like that—in the laboratory or on the scale of an entire planet—they produce a magnetic field.

Earth’s Crust

Composition of the Crust

Earth’s crust is largely made up of oceanic basalt and continental granite. These are both igneous rock, the term used for any rock that has cooled from a molten state. All volcanically produced rock is igneous ([link]).

Plate Tectonics

*Geology* is the study of Earth’s crust and the processes that have shaped its surface throughout history. (Although *geo*- means “related to Earth,” astronomers and planetary scientists also talk about the geology of other planets.) Heat escaping from the interior provides energy for the formation of our planet’s mountains, valleys, volcanoes, and even the continents and ocean basins themselves. But not until the middle of the twentieth century did geologists succeed in understanding just how these landforms are created.

Rift and Subduction Zones

Plates pull apart from each other along rift zones, such as the Mid-Atlantic ridge, driven by upwelling currents in the mantle ([link]). A few rift zones are found on land. The best known is the central African rift—an area where the African continent is slowly breaking apart. Most rift zones, however, are in the oceans. Molten rock rises from below to fill the space between the receding plates; this rock is basaltic lava, the kind of igneous rock that forms most of the ocean basins.

Fault Zones and Mountain Building

Along much of their length, the crustal plates slide parallel to each other. These plate boundaries are marked by cracks or faults. Along active fault zones, the motion of one plate with respect to the other is several centimeters per year, about the same as the spreading rates along rifts.

Volcanoes

Volcanoes mark locations where lava rises to the surface. One example is mid ocean ridges, which are long undersea mountain ranges formed by lava rising from Earth’s mantle at plate boundaries. A second major kind of volcanic activity is associated with subduction zones, and volcanoes sometimes also appear in regions where continental plates are colliding. In each case, the volcanic activity gives us a way to sample some of the material from deeper within our planet.

Earth’s Atmosphere

Structure of the Atmosphere

The structure of the atmosphere is illustrated in [link]. Most of the atmosphere is concentrated near the surface of Earth, within about the bottom 10 kilometers where clouds form and airplanes fly. Within this region—called the troposphere—warm air, heated by the surface, rises and is replaced by descending currents of cooler air; this is an example of convection. This circulation generates clouds and wind. Within the troposphere, temperature decreases rapidly with increasing elevation to values near 50 °C below freezing at its upper boundary, where the stratosphere begins. Most of the stratosphere, which extends to about 50 kilometers above the surface, is cold and free of clouds.

Atmospheric Composition and Origin

At Earth’s surface, the atmosphere consists of 78% nitrogen (N2), 21% oxygen (O2), and 1% argon (Ar), with traces of water vapor (H2O), carbon dioxide (CO2), and other gases. Variable amounts of dust particles and water droplets are also found suspended in the air.

Weather and Climate

All planets with atmospheres have *weather*, which is the name we give to the circulation of the atmosphere. The energy that powers the weather is derived primarily from the sunlight that heats the surface. Both the rotation of the planet and slower seasonal changes cause variations in the amount of sunlight striking different parts of Earth. The atmosphere and oceans redistribute the heat from warmer to cooler areas. Weather on any planet represents the response of its atmosphere to changing inputs of energy from the Sun (see [link] for a dramatic example).

Life, Chemical Evolution, and Climate Change

The Origin of Life

The record of the birth of life on Earth has been lost in the restless motions of the crust. According to chemical evidence, by the time the oldest surviving rocks were formed about 3.9 billion years ago, life already existed. At 3.5 billion years ago, life had achieved the sophistication to build large colonies called *stromatolites*, a form so successful that stromatolites still grow on Earth today ([link]). But, few rocks survive from these ancient times, and abundant fossils have been preserved only during the past 600 million years—less than 15% of our planet’s history.

The Evolution of the Atmosphere

One of the key steps in the evolution of life on Earth was the development of blue-green algae, a very successful life-form that takes in carbon dioxide from the environment and releases oxygen as a waste product. These successful microorganisms proliferated, giving rise to all the lifeforms we call plants. Since the energy for making new plant material from chemical building blocks comes from sunlight, we call the process photosynthesis.

The Greenhouse Effect and Global Warming

We have a special interest in the carbon dioxide content of the atmosphere because of the key role this gas plays in retaining heat from the Sun through a process called the greenhouse effect. To understand how the greenhouse effect works, consider the fate of sunlight that strikes the surface of Earth. The light penetrates our atmosphere, is absorbed by the ground, and heats the surface layers. At the temperature of Earth’s surface, that energy is then reemitted as infrared or heat radiation ([link]). However, the molecules of our atmosphere, which allow visible light through, are good at absorbing infrared energy. As a result, CO2 (along with methane and water vapor) acts like a blanket, trapping heat in the atmosphere and impeding its flow back to space. To maintain an energy balance, the temperature of the surface and lower atmosphere must increase until the total energy radiated by Earth to space equals the energy received from the Sun. The more CO2 there is in our atmosphere, the higher the temperature at which Earth’s surface reaches a new balance.

Human Impacts on Our Planet

Earth is so large and has been here for so long that some people have trouble accepting that humans are really changing the planet, its atmosphere, and its climate. They are surprised to learn, for example, that the carbon dioxide released from burning fossil fuels is 100 times greater than that emitted by volcanoes. But, the data clearly tell the story that our climate is changing rapidly, and that almost all of the change is a result of human activity.

Cosmic Influences on the Evolution of Earth

Where Are the Craters on Earth?

It is not possible that Earth escaped being struck by the interplanetary debris that has pockmarked the Moon. From a cosmic perspective, the Moon is almost next door. Our atmosphere does make small pieces of cosmic debris burn up (which we see as *meteors*—commonly called shooting stars). But, the layers of our air provide no shield against the large impacts that form craters several kilometers in diameter and are common on the Moon.

Recent Impacts

The collision of interplanetary debris with Earth is not a hypothetical idea. Evidence of relatively recent impacts can be found on our planet’s surface. One well-studied historic collision took place on June 30, 1908, near the Tunguska River in Siberia. In this desolate region, there was a remarkable explosion in the atmosphere about 8 kilometers above the surface. The shock wave flattened more than a thousand square kilometers of forest ([link]). Herds of reindeer and other animals were killed, and a man at a trading post 80 kilometers from the blast was thrown from his chair and knocked unconscious. The blast wave spread around the world, as recorded by instruments designed to measure changes in atmospheric pressure.

Mass Extinction

The impact that produced Meteor Crater would have been dramatic indeed to any humans who witnessed it (from a safe distance) since the energy release was equivalent to a 10-megaton nuclear bomb. But such explosions are devastating only in their local areas; they have no *global* consequences. Much larger (and rarer) impacts, however, can disturb the ecological balance of the entire planet and thus influence the course of evolution.

Impacts and the Evolution of Life

It is becoming clear that many—perhaps most—mass extinctions in Earth’s long history resulted from a variety of other causes, but in the case of the dinosaur killer, the cosmic impact certainly played a critical role and may have been the “final straw” in a series of climactic disturbances that resulted in the “great dying.”

Impacts in Our Future?

The impacts by asteroids and comets that have had such a major influence on life are not necessarily a thing of the past. In the full scope of planetary history, 65 million years ago was just yesterday. Earth actually orbits the Sun within a sort of cosmic shooting gallery, and although major impacts are rare, they are by no means over. Humanity could suffer the same fate as the dinosaurs, or lose a city to the much more frequent impacts like the one over Tunguska, unless we figure out a way to predict the next big impact and to protect our planet. The fact that our solar system is home to some very large planets in outer orbits may be beneficial to us; the gravitational fields of those planets can be very effective at pulling in cosmic debris and shielding us from larger, more frequent impacts.

Cratered Worlds

Thinking Ahead

General Properties of the Moon

Exploration of the Moon

Most of what we know about the Moon today derives from the US Apollo program, which sent nine piloted spacecraft to our satellite between 1968 and 1972, landing 12 astronauts on its surface ([link]). Before the era of spacecraft studies, astronomers had mapped the side of the Moon that faces Earth with telescopic resolution of about 1 kilometer, but lunar geology hardly existed as a scientific subject. All that changed beginning in the early 1960s. Initially, Russia took the lead in lunar exploration with Luna 3, which returned the first photos of the lunar far side in 1959, and then with Luna 9, which landed on the surface in 1966 and transmitted pictures and other data to Earth. However, these efforts were overshadowed on July 20, 1969, when the first American astronaut set foot on the Moon.

Composition and Structure of the Moon

The composition of the Moon is not the same as that of Earth. With an average density of only 3.3 g/cm3, the Moon must be made almost entirely of silicate rock. Compared to Earth, it is depleted in iron and other metals. It is as if the Moon were composed of the same silicates as Earth’s mantle and crust, with the metals and the volatiles selectively removed. These differences in composition between Earth and Moon provide important clues about the origin of the Moon, a topic we will cover in detail later in this chapter.

The Lunar Surface

General Appearance

If you look at the Moon through a telescope, you can see that it is covered by impact craters of all sizes. The most conspicuous of the Moon’s surface features—those that can be seen with the unaided eye and that make up the feature often called “the man in the Moon”—are vast splotches of darker lava flows.

Lunar History

To trace the detailed history of the Moon or of any planet, we must be able to estimate the ages of individual rocks. Once lunar samples were brought back by the Apollo astronauts, the radioactive dating techniques that had been developed for Earth were applied to them. The solidification ages of the samples ranged from about 3.3 to 4.4 billion years old, substantially older than most of the rocks on Earth. For comparison, as we saw in the chapter on Earth, Moon, and Sky, both Earth and the Moon were formed between 4.5 and 4.6 billion years ago.

On the Lunar Surface

*“The surface is fine and powdery. I can pick it up loosely with my toe. But I can see the footprints of my boots and the treads in the fine sandy particles.”* —Neil Armstrong, Apollo 11 astronaut, immediately after stepping onto the Moon for the first time.

Impact Craters

Volcanic Versus Impact Origin of Craters

The Moon provides an important benchmark for understanding the history of our planetary system. Most solid worlds show the effects of impacts, often extending back to the era when a great deal of debris from our system’s formation process was still present. On Earth, this long history has been erased by our active geology. On the Moon, in contrast, most of the impact history is preserved. If we can understand what has happened on the Moon, we may be able to apply this knowledge to other worlds. The Moon is especially interesting because it is not just any moon, but *our* Moon—a nearby world that has shared the history of Earth for more than 4 billion years and preserved a record that, for Earth, has been destroyed by our active geology.

The Cratering Process

Let’s consider how an impact at these high speeds produces a crater. When such a fast projectile strikes a planet, it penetrates two or three times its own diameter before stopping. During these few seconds, its energy of motion is transferred into a shock wave (which spreads through the target body) and into heat (which vaporizes most of the projectile and some of the surrounding target). The shock wave fractures the rock of the target, while the expanding silicate vapor generates an explosion similar to that of a nuclear bomb detonated at ground level ([link]). The size of the excavated crater depends primarily on the speed of impact, but generally it is 10 to 15 times the diameter of the projectile.

Using Crater Counts

If a world has had little erosion or internal activity, like the Moon during the past 3 billion years, it is possible to use the number of impact craters on its surface to estimate the age of that surface. By “age” here we mean the time since a major disturbance occurred on that surface (such as the volcanic eruptions that produced the lunar maria).

The Origin of the Moon

Ideas for the Origin of the Moon

It is characteristic of modern science to ask how things originated. Understanding the origin of the Moon has proven to be challenging for planetary scientists, however. Part of the difficulty is simply that we know so much about the Moon (quite the opposite of our usual problem in astronomy). As we will see, one key problem is that the Moon is both tantalizingly similar to Earth and frustratingly different.

The Giant Impact Hypothesis

In an effort to resolve these apparent contradictions, scientists developed a fourth hypothesis for the origin of the Moon, one that involves a giant impact early in Earth’s history. There is increasing evidence that large chunks of material—objects of essentially planetary mass—were orbiting in the inner solar system at the time that the terrestrial planets formed. The giant impact hypothesis envisions Earth being struck obliquely by an object approximately one-tenth Earth’s mass—a “bullet” about the size of Mars. This is very nearly the largest impact Earth could experience without being shattered.

Mercury

Mercury’s Orbit

The planet Mercury is similar to the Moon in many ways. Like the Moon, it has no atmosphere, and its surface is heavily cratered. As described later in this chapter, it also shares with the Moon the likelihood of a violent birth.

Composition and Structure

Mercury’s mass is one-eighteenth that of Earth, making it the smallest terrestrial planet. Mercury is the smallest planet (except for the dwarf planets), having a diameter of 4878 kilometers, less than half that of Earth. Mercury’s density is 5.4 g/cm3, much greater than the density of the Moon, indicating that the composition of those two objects differs substantially.

Mercury’s Strange Rotation

Visual studies of Mercury’s indistinct surface markings were once thought to indicate that the planet kept one face to the Sun (as the Moon does to Earth). Thus, for many years, it was widely believed that Mercury’s rotation period was equal to its revolution period of 88 days, making one side perpetually hot while the other was always cold.

The Surface of Mercury

The first close-up look at Mercury came in 1974, when the US spacecraft Mariner 10 passed 9500 kilometers from the surface of the planet and transmitted more than 2000 photographs to Earth, revealing details with a resolution down to 150 meters. Subsequently, the planet was mapped in great detail by the MESSENGER spacecraft, which was launched in 2004 and made multiple flybys of Earth, Venus, and Mercury before settling into orbit around Mercury in 2011. It ended its life in 2015, when it was commanded to crash into the surface of the planet.

The Origin of Mercury

The problem with understanding how Mercury formed is the reverse of the problem posed by the composition of the Moon. We have seen that, unlike the Moon, Mercury is composed mostly of metal. However, astronomers think that Mercury should have formed with roughly the same ratio of metal to silicate as that found on Earth or Venus. How did it lose so much of its rocky material?

Earthlike Planets: Venus and Mars

Thinking Ahead

The Nearest Planets: An Overview

Appearance

Venus appears very bright, and even a small telescope reveals that it goes through phases like the Moon. Galileo discovered that Venus displays a full range of phases, and he used this as an argument to show that Venus must circle the Sun and not Earth. The planet’s actual surface is not visible because it is shrouded by dense clouds that reflect about 70% of the sunlight that falls on them, frustrating efforts to study the underlying surface, even with cameras in orbit around the planet ([link]).

Rotation of the Planets

Astronomers have determined the rotation period of Mars with great accuracy by watching the motion of permanent surface markings; its sidereal day is 24 hours 37 minutes 23 seconds, just a little longer than the rotation period of Earth. This high precision is not obtained by watching Mars for a single rotation, but by noting how many turns it makes over a long period of time. Good observations of Mars date back more than 200 years, a period during which tens of thousands of martian days have passed. As a result, the rotation period can be calculated to within a few hundredths of a second.

Basic Properties of Venus and Mars

Before discussing each planet individually, let us compare some of their basic properties with each other and with Earth ([link]). Venus is in many ways Earth’s twin, with a mass 0.82 times the mass of Earth and an almost identical density. The average amount of geological activity has been also relatively high, almost as high as on Earth. On the other hand, with a surface pressure nearly 100 times greater than ours, Venus’ atmosphere is not at all like that of Earth. The surface of Venus is also remarkably hot, with a temperature of 730 K (over 850 °F), hotter than the self-cleaning cycle of your oven. One of the major challenges presented by Venus is to understand why the atmosphere and surface environment of this twin have diverged so sharply from those of our own planet.

The Geology of Venus

Spacecraft Exploration of Venus

Nearly 50 spacecraft have been launched to Venus, but only about half were successful. Although the 1962 US Mariner 2 flyby was the first, the Soviet Union launched most of the subsequent missions to Venus. In 1970, Venera 7 became the first probe to land and broadcast data from the surface of Venus. It operated for 23 minutes before succumbing to the high surface temperature. Additional Venera probes and landers followed, photographing the surface and analyzing the atmosphere and soil.

Probing Through the Clouds of Venus

The radar maps of Venus reveal a planet that looks much the way Earth might look if our planet’s surface were not constantly being changed by erosion and deposition of sediment. Because there is no water or ice on Venus and the surface wind speeds are low, almost nothing obscures or erases the complex geological features produced by the movements of Venus’ crust, by volcanic eruptions, and by impact craters. Having finally penetrated below the clouds of Venus, we find its surface to be naked, revealing the history of hundreds of millions of years of geological activity.

Craters and the Age of the Venus Surface

One of the first questions astronomers addressed with the high-resolution *Magellan* images was the age of the surface of Venus. Remember that the age of a planetary surface is rarely the age of the world it is on. A young age merely implies an active geology in that location. Such ages can be derived from counting impact craters. [link] is an example of what these craters look like on the Venus radar images. The more densely cratered the surface, the greater its age. The largest crater on Venus (called Mead) is 275 kilometers in diameter, slightly larger than the largest known terrestrial crater (Chicxulub), but much smaller than the lunar impact basins.

Volcanoes on Venus

Like Earth, Venus is a planet that has experienced widespread volcanism. In the lowland plains, volcanic eruptions are the principal way the surface is renewed, with large flows of highly fluid lava destroying old craters and generating a fresh surface. In addition, numerous younger volcanic mountains and other structures are associated with surface hot spots—places where convection in the planet’s mantle transports the interior heat to the surface.

Tectonic Activity

Convection currents of molten material in the mantle of Venus push and stretch the crust. Such forces are called tectonic, and the geological features that result from these forces are called *tectonic features*. On Venus’ lowland plains, tectonic forces have broken the lava surface to create remarkable patterns of ridges and cracks ([link]). In a few places, the crust has even torn apart to generate rift valleys. The circular features associated with coronae are tectonic ridges and cracks, and most of the mountains of Venus also owe their existence to tectonic forces.

On Venus’ Surface

The successful Venera landers of the 1970s found themselves on an extraordinarily inhospitable planet, with a surface pressure of 90 bars and a temperature hot enough to melt lead and zinc. Despite these unpleasant conditions, the spacecraft were able to photograph their surroundings and collect surface samples for chemical analysis before their instruments gave out. The diffuse sunlight striking the surface was tinted red by the clouds, and the illumination level was equivalent to a heavy overcast on Earth.

The Massive Atmosphere of Venus

Composition and Structure of the Atmosphere

The most abundant gas on Venus is carbon dioxide (CO2), which accounts for 96% of the atmosphere. The second most common gas is nitrogen. The predominance of carbon dioxide over nitrogen is not surprising when you recall that Earth’s atmosphere would also be mostly carbon dioxide if this gas were not locked up in marine sediments (see the discussion of Earth’s atmosphere in Earth as a Planet).

Surface Temperature on Venus

The high surface temperature of Venus was discovered by radio astronomers in the late 1950s and confirmed by the Mariner and Venera probes. How can our neighbor planet be so hot? Although Venus is somewhat closer to the Sun than is Earth, its surface is hundreds of degrees hotter than you would expect from the extra sunlight it receives. Scientists wondered what could be heating the surface of Venus to a temperature above 700 K. The answer turned out to be the *greenhouse effect*.

The Geology of Mars

Spacecraft Exploration of Mars

Mars has been intensively investigated by spacecraft. More than 50 spacecraft have been launched toward Mars, but only about half were fully successful. The first visitor was the US Mariner 4, which flew past Mars in 1965 and transmitted 22 photos to Earth. These pictures showed an apparently bleak planet with abundant impact craters. In those days, craters were unexpected; some people who were romantically inclined still hoped to see canals or something like them. In any case, newspaper headlines sadly announced that Mars was a “dead planet.”

Martian Samples

Much of what we know of the Moon, including the circumstances of its origin, comes from studies of lunar samples, but spacecraft have not yet returned martian samples to Earth for laboratory analysis. It is with great interest, therefore, that scientists have discovered that samples of martian material are nevertheless already here on Earth, available for study. These are all members of a rare class of *meteorites* ([link])—rocks that have fallen from space.

Global Properties of Mars

Mars has a diameter of 6790 kilometers, just over half the diameter of Earth, giving it a total surface area very nearly equal to the continental (land) area of our planet. Its overall density of 3.9 g/cm3 suggests a composition consisting primarily of silicates but with a small metal core. The planet has no global magnetic field, although there are areas of strong surface magnetization that indicate that there was a global field billions of years ago. Apparently, the red planet has no liquid material in its core today that would conduct electricity.

Volcanoes on Mars

The lowland plains of Mars look very much like the lunar maria, and they have about the same density of impact craters. Like the lunar maria, they probably formed between 3 and 4 billion years ago. Apparently, Mars experienced extensive volcanic activity at about the same time the Moon did, producing similar basaltic lavas.

Martian Cracks and Canyons

The Tharsis bulge has many interesting geological features in addition to its huge volcanoes. In this part of the planet, the surface itself has bulged upward, forced by great pressures from below, resulting in extensive tectonic cracking of the crust. Among the most spectacular tectonic features on Mars are the canyons called the Valles Marineris (or Mariner Valleys, named after Mariner 9, which first revealed them to us), which are shown in [link]. They extend for about 5000 kilometers (nearly a quarter of the way around Mars) along the slopes of the Tharsis bulge. If it were on Earth, this canyon system would stretch all the way from Los Angeles to Washington, DC. The main canyon is about 7 kilometers deep and up to 100 kilometers wide, large enough for the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River to fit comfortably into one of its side canyons. Viewers of the movie “The Martian” can see a recreation of these canyonlands, as the film’s hero takes a long trip through a spectacular (and somewhat exaggerated) presentation of this part of Mars.

The View on the Martian Surface

The first spacecraft to land successfully on Mars were Vikings 1 and 2 and Mars Pathfinder. All sent back photos that showed a desolate but strangely beautiful landscape, including numerous angular rocks interspersed with dune like deposits of fine-grained, reddish soil ([link]).

Water and Life on Mars

Atmosphere and Clouds on Mars

The atmosphere of Mars today has an average surface pressure of only 0.007 bar, less than 1% that of Earth. (This is how thin the air is about 30 kilometers above Earth’s surface.) Martian air is composed primarily of carbon dioxide (95%), with about 3% nitrogen and 2% argon. The proportions of different gases are similar to those in the atmosphere of Venus (see [link]), but a lot less of each gas is found in the thin air on Mars.

The Polar Caps

Through a telescope, the most prominent surface features on Mars are the bright polar caps, which change with the seasons, similar to the seasonal snow cover on Earth. We do not usually think of the winter snow in northern latitudes as a part of our polar caps, but seen from space, the thin winter snow merges with Earth’s thick, permanent ice caps to create an impression much like that seen on Mars ([link]).

Channels and Gullies on Mars

Although no bodies of liquid water exist on Mars today, evidence has accumulated that rivers flowed on the red planet long ago. Two kinds of geological features appear to be remnants of ancient watercourses, while a third class—smaller gullies—suggests intermittent outbreaks of liquid water even today. We will examine each of these features in turn.

Ancient Lakes and Glaciers

The rovers (*Spirit*, *Opportunity*, *Curiosity*, and *Perseverance,*, that have operated on the surface of Mars have been used to hunt for additional evidence of water. They could not reach the most interesting sites, such as the gullies, which are located on steep slopes. Instead, they explored sites that might be dried-out lake beds, dating back to a time when the climate on Mars was warmer and the atmosphere thicker—allowing water to be liquid on the surface.

Climate Change on Mars

The evidence about ancient rivers and lakes of water on Mars discussed so far suggests that, billions of years ago, martian temperatures must have been warmer and the atmosphere must have been more substantial than it is today. But what could have changed the climate on Mars so dramatically?

The Search for Life on Mars

If there was running water on Mars in the past, perhaps there was life as well. Could life, in some form, remain in the martian soil today? Testing this possibility, however unlikely, was one of the primary objectives of the Viking landers in 1976. These landers carried miniature biological laboratories to test for microorganisms in the martian soil. Martian soil was scooped up by the spacecraft’s long arm and placed into the experimental chambers, where it was isolated and incubated in contact with a variety of gases, radioactive isotopes, and nutrients to see what would happen. The experiments looked for evidence of *respiration* by living animals, *absorption* of *nutrients* offered to organisms that might be present, and an *exchange of gases* between the soil and its surroundings for any reason whatsoever. A fourth instrument pulverized the soil and analyzed it carefully to determine what organic (carbon-bearing) material it contained.

Divergent Planetary Evolution

The Giant Planets

Thinking Ahead

Exploring the Outer Planets

Exploration of the Outer Solar System So Far

Eight spacecraft, seven from the United States and one from Europe, have penetrated beyond the asteroid belt into the realm of the giants. [link] summarizes the spacecraft missions to the outer solar system.

Enter the Orbiters: Galileo, Cassini, and Juno

The Pioneer and Voyager missions were flybys of the giant planets: they each produced only quick looks before the spacecraft sped onward. For more detailed studies of these worlds, we require spacecraft that can go into orbit around a planet. For Jupiter and Saturn, these orbiters were the Galileo, Cassini, and Juno spacecraft. To date, no orbiter missions have been started for Uranus and Neptune, although planetary scientists have expressed keen interest.

The Giant Planets

Basic Characteristics

The giant planets are very far from the Sun. Jupiter is more than five times farther from the Sun than Earth’s distance (5 AU), and takes just under 12 years to circle the Sun. Saturn is about twice as far away as Jupiter (almost 10 AU) and takes nearly 30 years to complete one orbit. Uranus orbits at 19 AU with a period of 84 years, while Neptune, at 30 AU, requires 165 years for each circuit of the Sun. These long timescales make it difficult for us short-lived humans to study seasonal change on the outer planets.

Appearance and Rotation

When we look at the planets, we see only their atmospheres, composed primarily of hydrogen and helium gas (see [link]). The uppermost clouds of Jupiter and Saturn, the part we see when looking down at these planets from above, are composed of ammonia crystals. On Neptune, the upper clouds are made of methane. On Uranus, we see no obvious cloud layer at all, but only a deep and featureless haze.

Composition and Structure

Although we cannot see into these planets, astronomers are confident that the interiors of Jupiter and Saturn are composed primarily of hydrogen and helium. Of course, these gases have been measured only in their atmosphere, but calculations first carried out more than 50 years ago showed that these two light gases are the only possible materials out of which a planet with the observed masses and densities of Jupiter and Saturn could be constructed.

Internal Heat Sources

Because of their large sizes, all the giant planets were strongly heated during their formation by the collapse of surrounding material onto their cores. Jupiter, being the largest, was the hottest. Some of this primordial heat can still remain inside such large planets. In addition, it is possible for giant, largely gaseous planets to generate heat after formation by slowly contracting. (With so large a mass, even a minuscule amount of shrinking can generate significant heat.) The effect of these internal energy sources is to raise the temperatures in the interiors and atmospheres of the planets higher than we would expect from the heating effect of the Sun alone.

Magnetic Fields

Each of the giant planets has a strong magnetic field, generated by electric currents in its rapidly spinning interior. Associated with the magnetic fields are the planets’ *magnetospheres*, which are regions around the planet within which the planet’s own magnetic field dominates over the general interplanetary magnetic field. The magnetospheres of these planets are their largest features, extending millions of kilometers into space.

Atmospheres of the Giant Planets

Atmospheric Composition

When sunlight reflects from the atmospheres of the giant planets, the atmospheric gases leave their “fingerprints” in the spectrum of light. Spectroscopic observations of the jovian planets began in the nineteenth century, but for a long time, astronomers were not able to interpret the spectra they observed. As late as the 1930s, the most prominent features photographed in these spectra remained unidentified. Then better spectra revealed the presence of molecules of methane (CH4) and ammonia (NH3) in the atmospheres of Jupiter and Saturn.

Clouds and Atmospheric Structure

The clouds of Jupiter ([link]) are among the most spectacular sights in the solar system, much beloved by makers of science-fiction films. They range in color from white to orange to red to brown, swirling and twisting in a constantly changing kaleidoscope of patterns. Saturn shows similar but much more subdued cloud activity; instead of vivid colors, its clouds have a nearly uniform butterscotch hue ([link]).

Winds and Weather

The atmospheres of the jovian planets have many regions of high pressure (where there is more air) and low pressure (where there is less). Just as it does on Earth, air flows between these regions, setting up wind patterns that are then distorted by the rotation of the planet. By observing the changing cloud patterns on the jovian planets, we can measure wind speeds and track the circulation of their atmospheres.

Giant Storms on Giant Planets

Superimposed on the regular atmospheric circulation patterns we have just described are many local disturbances—weather systems or *storms*, to borrow the term we use on Earth. The most prominent of these are large, oval-shaped, high-pressure regions on both Jupiter ([link]) and Neptune.

Rings, Moons, and Pluto

Thinking Ahead

Ring and Moon Systems Introduced

The Jupiter System

Jupiter has 92 known moons (that’s the number as we write) and a faint ring. These include four large moons—Callisto, Ganymede, Europa, and Io (see [link])—discovered in 1610 by Galileo and therefore often called the *Galilean moons*. The smaller of these, Europa and Io, are about the size of our Moon, while the larger, Ganymede and Callisto, are about the same size as the planet Mercury. Most of Jupiter’s moons are much smaller. The majority are in retrograde orbits more than 20 million kilometers from Jupiter; these are very likely small captured asteroids.

The Saturn System

Saturn has at least 83 known moons in addition to a magnificent set of rings. The largest of the moons, Titan, is almost as big as Ganymede in Jupiter’s system, and it is the only moon with a substantial atmosphere and lakes or seas of liquid hydrocarbons (such as methane and ethane) on the surface. Saturn has six other large regular moons with diameters between 400 and 1600 kilometers, a collection of small moons orbiting in or near the rings, and many captured strays similar to those of Jupiter. Mysteriously, one of Saturn’s smaller moons, Enceladus, has active geysers of water being expelled into space.

The Uranus System

The ring and moon system of Uranus is tilted at 98°, just like the planet itself. It consists of 11 rings and 27 currently known moons. The five largest moons are similar in size to the six regular moons of Saturn, with diameters of 500 to 1600 kilometers. Discovered in 1977, the rings of Uranus are narrow ribbons of dark material with broad gaps in between. Astronomers suppose that the ring particles are confined to these narrow paths by the gravitational effects of numerous small moons, many of which we have not yet glimpsed.

The Neptune System

Neptune has 14 known moons. The most interesting of these is Triton, a relatively large moon in a retrograde orbit—which is unusual. Triton has a very thin atmosphere, and active eruptions were discovered there by Voyager in its 1989 flyby. To explain its unusual characteristics, astronomers have suggested that Triton may have originated beyond the Neptune system, as a dwarf planet like Pluto. The rings of Neptune are narrow and faint. Like those of Uranus, they are composed of dark materials and are thus not easy to see.

The Galilean Moons of Jupiter

Callisto: An Ancient, Primitive World

We begin our discussion of the Galilean moons with the outermost one, Callisto, not because it is remarkable but because it is not. This makes it a convenient object with which other, more active, worlds can be compared. Its distance from Jupiter is about 2 million kilometers, and it orbits the planet in 17 days. Like our own Moon, Callisto rotates in the same period as it revolves, so it always keeps the same face toward Jupiter. Callisto’s day thus equals its month: 17 days. Its noontime surface temperature is only 130 K (about 140 °C below freezing), so that water ice is stable (it never evaporates) on its surface year round.

Ganymede, the Largest Moon

Ganymede, the largest moon in the solar system, also shows a great deal of cratering ([link]). Recall from Other Worlds: An Introduction to the Solar System that we can use crater counts on solid worlds to estimate the age of the surface. The more craters, the longer the surface has been exposed to battering from space, and the older it must therefore be. About one-quarter of Ganymede’s surface seems to be as old and heavily cratered as that of Callisto; the rest formed more recently, as we can tell by the sparse covering of impact craters as well as the relative freshness of those craters. If we judge from crater counts, this fresher terrain on Ganymede is somewhat younger than the lunar maria or the martian volcanic plains, perhaps 2 to 3 billion years old.

Europa, a Moon with an Ocean

Europa and Io, the inner two Galilean moons, are not icy worlds like most of the moons of the outer planets. With densities and sizes similar to our Moon, they appear to be predominantly rocky objects. How did they fail to acquire a majority share of the ice that must have been plentiful in the outer solar system at the time of their formation?

lo, a Volcanic Moon

Io, the innermost of Jupiter’s Galilean moons, is in many ways a close twin of our Moon, with nearly the same size and density. We might therefore expect it to have experienced a similar history. Its appearance, as photographed from space, tells us another story, however ([link]). Instead of being a dead cratered world, Io turns out to have the highest level of volcanism in the solar system, greatly exceeding that of Earth.

Tidal Heating

How can Io remain volcanically active in spite of its small size? The answer, as we hinted earlier, lies in the effect of gravity, through tidal heating. Io is about the same distance from Jupiter as our Moon is from Earth. Yet Jupiter is more than 300 times more massive than Earth, causing forces that pull Io into an elongated shape, with a several-kilometer-high bulge extending toward Jupiter.

Titan and Triton

Titan, a Moon with Atmosphere and Hydrocarbon Lakes

Titan, first seen in 1655 by the Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens, was the first moon discovered after Galileo saw the four large moons of Jupiter. Titan has roughly the same diameter, mass, and density as Callisto or Ganymede. Presumably it also has a similar composition—about half ice and half rock. However, Titan is unique among moons, with a thick atmosphere and lakes and rivers and falling rain (although these are not composed of water but of hydrocarbons such as ethane and methane, which can stay liquid at the frigid temperatures on Titan). Titan is the only moon or planet other than Earth where we have found evidence of bodies of surface liquids.

Triton and Its Volcanoes

Neptune’s largest moon Triton (don’t get its name confused with Titan) has a diameter of 2720 kilometers and a density of 2.1 g/cm3, indicating that it’s probably composed of about 75% rock mixed with 25% water ice. Measurements indicate that Triton’s surface has the coldest temperature of any of the worlds our robot representatives have visited. Because its reflectivity is so high (about 80%), Triton reflects most of the solar energy that falls on it, resulting in a surface temperature between 35 and 40 K.

Pluto and Charon

Is Pluto a Planet?

Pluto was discovered through a careful, systematic search, unlike Neptune, whose position was calculated from gravitational theory. Nevertheless, the history of the search for Pluto began with indications that Uranus had slight departures from its predicted orbit, departures that could be due to the gravitation of an undiscovered “Planet X.” Early in the twentieth century, several astronomers, most notably Percival Lowell, then at the peak of his fame as an advocate of intelligent life on Mars, became interested in searching for this ninth planet.

The Nature of Pluto

Almost everything we know about Pluto and its moons comes from the New Horizons spacecraft, which flew by in 2015 before traveling on into the outermost parts of the planetary system. Using data from the New Horizons probe, astronomers have measured the diameter of Pluto as 2370 kilometers, only 60 percent as large as our Moon. From the diameter and mass, we find a density of 1.9 g/cm3, suggesting that Pluto is a mixture of rocky materials and water ice in about the same proportions as many outer-planet moons.

Geology of Pluto

Pluto is not the geologically dead world that many anticipated for such a small object—far from it. The division of the surface into areas with different composition and surface texture is apparent in the global color photo shown in [link]. The reddish color is enhanced in this image to bring out differences in color more clearly. The darker parts of the surface are cratered, but adjacent to them is a nearly featureless light area in the lower right quadrant of this image. This is a huge ice-filled depression called the Sputnik Plains, named for the first artificial Earth satellite. The absence of impact craters suggests a surface no more than 10 million years old. The dark areas show the colors of photochemical haze or smog similar to that in the atmosphere of Titan. The dark material that is staining these old surfaces could come from Pluto’s atmospheric haze or from chemical reactions taking place at the surface due to the action of sunlight.

A Quick Look at Charon

To add to the mysteries of Pluto, we show in [link] one of the best New Horizons images of Pluto’s large moon Charon. Recall from earlier that Charon is roughly half Pluto’s size (its diameter is about the size of Texas). Charon keeps the same side toward Pluto, just as our Moon keeps the same side toward Earth. What is unique about the Pluto-Charon system, however, is that Pluto also keeps its same face toward Charon. Like two dancers embracing, these two constantly face each other as they spin across the celestial dance floor. Astronomers call this a double tidal lock.

Planetary Rings (and Enceladus)

What Causes Rings?

A ring is a collection of vast numbers of particles, each like a tiny moon obeying Kepler’s laws as it follows its own orbit around the planet. Thus, the inner particles revolve faster than those farther out, and the ring as a whole does not rotate as a solid body. In fact, it is better not to think of a ring rotating at all, but rather to consider the revolution (or motion in orbit) of its individual moonlets.

Rings of Saturn

Saturn’s rings are one of the most beautiful sights in the solar system ([link]). From outer to inner, the three brightest rings are labeled with the extremely unromantic names of A, B, and C Rings. [link] gives the dimensions of the rings in both kilometers and units of the radius of Saturn, *R*Saturn. The B Ring is the brightest and has the most closely packed particles, whereas the A and C Rings are translucent.

Rings of Uranus and Neptune

Uranus’ rings are narrow and black, making them almost invisible from Earth. The nine main rings were discovered in 1977 from observations made of a star as Uranus passed in front of it. We call such a passage of one astronomical object in front of another an *occultation*. During the 1977 occultation, astronomers expected the star’s light to disappear as the planet moved across it. But in addition, the star dimmed briefly several times before Uranus reached it, as each narrow ring passed between the star and the telescope. Thus, the rings were mapped out in detail even though they could not be seen or photographed directly, like counting the number of cars in a train at night by watching the blinking of a light as the cars successively pass in front of it. When Voyager approached Uranus in 1986, it was able to study the rings at close range; the spacecraft also photographed two new rings ([link]).

Interactions between Rings and Moons

Much of our fascination with planetary rings is a result of their intricate structures, most of which owe their existence to the gravitational effect of moons, without which the rings would be flat and featureless. Indeed, it is becoming clear that without moons there would probably be no rings at all because, left to themselves, thin disks of small particles gradually spread and dissipate.

Comets and Asteroids: Debris of the Solar System

Thinking Ahead

Asteroids

Discovery and Orbits of the Asteroids

In the late 1700s, many astronomers were hunting for an additional planet they thought should exist in the gap between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. The Sicilian astronomer Giovanni Piazzi thought he had found this missing planet in 1801, when he discovered the first asteroid (or as it was later called, “minor planet”) orbiting at 2.8 AU from the Sun. His discovery, which he named Ceres, was quickly followed by the detection of three other little planets in similar orbits.

Composition and Classification

Asteroids are as different as black and white. The majority are very dark, with reflectivity of only 3 to 4%, like a lump of coal. However, another large group has a typical reflectivity of 15%. To understand more about these differences and how they are related to chemical composition, astronomers study the spectrum of the light reflected from asteroids for clues about their composition.

Vesta: A Differentiated Asteroid

Vesta is one of the most interesting of the asteroids. It orbits the Sun with a semi-major axis of 2.4 AU in the inner part of the asteroid belt. Its relatively high reflectivity of almost 30% makes it the brightest asteroid, so bright that it is actually visible to the unaided eye if you know just where to look. But its real claim to fame is that its surface is covered with basalt, indicating that Vesta is a differentiated object that must once have been volcanically active, in spite of its small size (about 500 kilometers in diameter).

Asteroids Up Close

On the way to its 1995 encounter with Jupiter, the Galileo spacecraft was targeted to fly close to two main-belt S-type asteroids called Gaspra and Ida. The Galileo camera revealed both as long and highly irregular (resembling a battered potato), as befits fragments from a catastrophic collision ([link]).

Asteroids and Planetary Defense

Earth-Approaching Asteroids

Asteroids that stray far *outside* the main belt are of interest mostly to astronomers. But asteroids that come *inward*, especially those with orbits that come close to or cross the orbit of Earth, are of interest to political leaders, military planners—indeed, everyone alive on Earth. Some of these asteroids briefly become the closest celestial object to us.

The “Long-Haired” Comets

Appearance of Comets

A comet is a relatively small chunk of icy material (typically a few kilometers across) that develops an atmosphere as it approaches the Sun. Later, there may be a very faint, nebulous tail, extending several million kilometers away from the main body of the comet. Comets have been observed from the earliest times: accounts of comets are found in the histories of virtually all ancient civilizations. The typical comet, however, is not spectacular in our skies, instead having the appearance of a rather faint, diffuse spot of light somewhat smaller than the Moon and many times less brilliant. (Comets seemed more spectacular to people before the invention of artificial lighting, which compromises our view of the night sky.)

Comet Orbits

The study of comets as members of the solar system dates from the time of Isaac Newton, who first suggested that they orbited the Sun on extremely elongated ellipses. Newton’s colleague Edmund Halley (see the [link] feature box) developed these ideas, and in 1705, he published calculations of 24 comet orbits. In particular, he noted that the orbits of the bright comets that had appeared in the years 1531, 1607, and 1682 were so similar that the three could well be the same comet, returning to perihelion (closest approach to the Sun) at average intervals of 76 years. If so, he predicted that the object should next return about 1758. Although Halley had died by the time the comet appeared as he predicted, it was given the name Comet Halley (rhymes with “valley”) in honor of the astronomer who first recognized it as a permanent member of our solar system, orbiting around the Sun. Its aphelion (furthest point from the Sun) is beyond the orbit of Neptune.

The Comet’s Nucleus

When we look at an active comet, all we normally see is its temporary atmosphere of gas and dust illuminated by sunlight. This atmosphere is called the comet’s head or *coma.* Since the gravity of such small bodies is very weak, the atmosphere is rapidly escaping all the time; it must be replenished by new material, which has to come from somewhere. The source is the small, solid nucleus inside, just a few kilometers across, usually hidden by the glow from the much-larger atmosphere surrounding it. The nucleus is the real comet, the fragment of ancient icy material responsible for the atmosphere and the tail ([link]).

The Comet’s Atmosphere

The spectacular activity that allows us to see comets is caused by the evaporation of cometary ices heated by sunlight. Beyond the asteroid belt, where comets spend most of their time, these ices are solidly frozen. But as a comet approaches the Sun, it begins to warm up. If water (H2O) is the dominant ice, significant quantities vaporize as sunlight heats the surface above 200 K. This happens for the typical comet somewhat beyond the orbit of Mars. The evaporating H2O in turn releases the dust that was mixed with the ice. Since the comet’s nucleus is so small, its gravity cannot hold back either the gas or the dust, both of which flow away into space at speeds of about 1 kilometer per second.

The Rosetta Comet Mission

The 1976 Giotto flyby of Comet Halley, which gave us the first picture of an active comet nucleus, was a watershed in our understanding of comets. In the 1990s, European scientists decided to design a much more ambitious mission that would match orbits with an incoming comet and follow it as it approached the Sun. They also proposed that a smaller spacecraft would actually try to land on the comet. The 2-ton main spacecraft was named *Rosetta*, carrying a dozen scientific instruments, and its 100-kilogram lander with nine more instruments was named *Philae*.

The Origin and Fate of Comets and Related Objects

Centaurs and TNOs

In the outer solar system, where most objects contain large amounts of water ice, the distinction between asteroids and comets breaks down. Astronomers initially still used the name “asteroids” for new objects discovered going around the Sun with orbits that carry them far beyond Jupiter. The first of these objects is Chiron, found in 1977 on a path that carries it from just inside the orbit of Saturn at its closest approach to the Sun out to almost the distance of Uranus ([link]). The diameter of Chiron is estimated to be about 200 kilometers, much larger than any known comet.

The Kuiper Belt and the Oort Cloud

TNOs are a part of what is called the Kuiper belt, a large area of space beyond Neptune that is also the source of many comets. Astronomers study the Kuiper belt in two ways. New, more powerful telescopes allow us to discover many of the larger members of the Kuiper belt directly. We can also measure the composition of short-period comets that are thought to originate in the Kuiper belt, where small gravitational perturbations from Neptune can gradually shift their orbits until they can penetrate the inner solar system. More than a thousand Kuiper belt objects have been discovered, and astronomers estimate that there are more than 100,000 with diameters larger than 100 kilometers, in a disk extending out to about 50 AU from the Sun.

Early Evolution of the Planetary System

Comets from the Oort cloud help us sample material that formed very far from the Sun, whereas the short-period comets from the Kuiper belt sample materials that were planetesimals in the solar nebula disk but did not form planets. Studies of the Kuiper belt also are influencing our understanding of the early evolution of our planetary system.

The Fate of Comets

Any comet we see today will have spent nearly its entire existence in the Oort cloud or the Kuiper belt at a temperature near absolute zero. But once a comet enters the inner solar system, its previously uneventful life history begins to accelerate. It may, of course, survive its initial passage near the Sun and return to the cold reaches of space where it spent the previous 4.5 billion years. At the other extreme, it may collide with the Sun or come so close that it is destroyed on its first perihelion passage (several such collisions have been observed with space telescopes that monitor the Sun). Sometimes, however, the new comet does not come that close to the Sun but instead interacts with one or more of the planets.

Cosmic Samples and the Origin of the Solar System

Thinking Ahead

Meteors

Observing Meteors

Meteors are created as tiny solid particles that enter Earth’s atmosphere from interplanetary space. Since the particles move at speeds of many kilometers per second, friction with the air vaporizes them at altitudes between 80 and 130 kilometers. The resulting flashes of light fade out within a few seconds. These “shooting stars” got their name because at night their luminous vapors look like stars moving rapidly across the sky. To be visible, a meteor must be within about 200 kilometers of the observer. On a typical dark, moonless night, an alert observer can see half a dozen meteors per hour. These *sporadic meteors*—those not associated with a meteor shower (explained in the next section)—are random occurrences. Over the entire Earth, the total number of meteors bright enough to be visible totals about 25 million per day.

Meteor Showers

Many—perhaps most—of the meteors that strike Earth are associated with specific comets. Some of these periodic comets still return to our view; others have long ago fallen apart, leaving only a trail of dust behind them. The dust particles from a given comet retain approximately the orbit of their parent, continuing to move together through space but spreading out over the orbit with time. When Earth, in its travels around the Sun, crosses such a dust stream, we see a sudden burst of meteor activity that usually lasts several hours; such an event is called a meteor shower.

Meteorites: Stones from Heaven

Extraterrestrial Origin of Meteorites

Occasional meteorites have been found throughout history, but their extraterrestrial origin was not accepted by scientists until the beginning of the nineteenth century. Before that, these strange stones were either ignored or considered to have a supernatural origin.

Meteorite Falls and Finds

Meteorites are found in two ways. First, sometimes bright meteors (fireballs) are observed to penetrate the atmosphere to low altitudes. If we search the area beneath the point where the fireball burned out, we may find one or more remnants that reached the ground. Observed *meteorite falls*, in other words, may lead to the recovery of fallen meteorites. (A few meteorites have even hit buildings or, very rarely, people; see Making Connections: Some Striking Meteorites). The 2013 Chelyabinsk fireball, which we discussed in the chapter on Comets and Asteroids: Debris of the Solar System, produced tens of thousands of small meteorites, many of them easy to find because these dark stones fell on snow.

Meteorite Classification

The meteorites in our collections have a wide range of compositions and histories, but traditionally they have been placed into three broad classes. First are the irons, composed of nearly pure metallic nickel-iron. Second are the stones, the term used for any silicate or rocky meteorite. Third are the rarer stony-irons, made (as the name implies) of mixtures of stone and metallic iron ([link]).

Ages and Compositions of Meteorites

It was not until the ages of meteorites were measured and their compositions analyzed in detail that scientists appreciated their true significance. The meteorites include the oldest and most primitive materials available for direct study in the laboratory. The ages of stony meteorites can be determined from the careful measurement of radioactive isotopes and their decay products. Almost all meteorites have radioactive ages between 4.50 and 4.56 billion years, as old as any ages we have measured in the solar system. The few younger exceptions are igneous rocks that have been ejected from cratering events on the Moon or Mars (and have made their way to Earth).

The Most Primitive Meteorites

For information on the *earliest* history of the solar system, we turn to the primitive meteorites—those made of materials that have *not* been subject to great heat or pressure since their formation. We can look at the spectrum of sunlight reflected from asteroids and compare their compositions with those of primitive meteorites. Such analysis indicates that their parent bodies are almost certainly asteroids. Since asteroids are believed to be fragments left over from the formation process of the solar system, it makes sense that they should be the parent bodies of the primitive meteorites.

Formation of the Solar System

Observational Constraints

There are certain basic properties of the planetary system that any theory of its formation must explain. These may be summarized under three categories: motion constraints, chemical constraints, and age constraints. We call them *constraints* because they place restrictions on our theories; unless a theory can explain the observed facts, it will not survive in the competitive marketplace of ideas that characterizes the endeavor of science. Let’s take a look at these constraints one by one.

The Solar Nebula

All the foregoing constraints are consistent with the general idea, introduced in Other Worlds: An Introduction to the Solar System, that the solar system formed 4.5 billion years ago out of a rotating cloud of vapor and dust—which we call the solar nebula—with an initial composition similar to that of the Sun today. As the solar nebula collapsed under its own gravity, material fell toward the center, where things became more and more concentrated and hot. Increasing temperatures in the shrinking nebula vaporized most of the solid material that was originally present.

Formation of the Terrestrial Planets

The grains that condensed in the solar nebula rather quickly joined into larger and larger chunks, until most of the solid material was in the form of *planetesimals,* chunks a few kilometers to a few tens of kilometers in diameter. Some planetesimals still survive today as comets and asteroids. Others have left their imprint on the cratered surfaces of many of the worlds we studied in earlier chapters. A substantial step up in size is required, however, to go from planetesimal to planet.

Formation of the Giant Planets

In the outer solar system, where the available raw materials included ices as well as rocks, the protoplanets grew to be much larger, with masses ten times greater than Earth. These protoplanets of the outer solar system were so large that they were able to attract and hold the surrounding gas. As the hydrogen and helium rapidly collapsed onto their cores, the giant planets were heated by the energy of contraction. But although these giant planets got hotter than their terrestrial siblings, they were far too small to raise their central temperatures and pressures to the point where nuclear reactions could begin (and it is such reactions that give us our definition of a star). After glowing dull red for a few thousand years, the giant planets gradually cooled to their present state ([link]).

Further Evolution of the System

All the processes we have just described, from the collapse of the solar nebula to the formation of protoplanets, took place within a few million years. However, the story of the formation of the solar system was not complete at this stage; there were many planetesimals and other debris that did not initially accumulate to form the planets. What was their fate?

Comparison with Other Planetary Systems

Discovery of Other Planetary Systems

In The Birth of Stars and the Discovery of Planets outside the Solar System, we discuss the formation of stars and planets in some detail. Stars like our Sun are formed when dense regions in a molecular cloud (made of gas and dust) feel an extra gravitational force and begin to collapse. This is a runaway process: as the cloud collapses, the gravitational force gets stronger, concentrating material into a protostar. Roughly half of the time, the protostar will fragment or be gravitationally bound to other protostars, forming a binary or multiple star system—stars that are gravitationally bound and orbit each other. The rest of the time, the protostar collapses in isolation, as was the case for our Sun. In all cases, as we saw, conservation of angular momentum results in a spin-up of the collapsing protostar, with surrounding material flattened into a disk. Today, this kind of structure can actually be observed. The Hubble and James Webb Space Telescopes, as well as powerful new ground-based telescopes, enable astronomers to study directly the nearest of these *circumstellar disks* in regions of space where stars are being born today, such as the Orion Nebula ([link]) or the Taurus star-forming region.

Discovering Exoplanets

You might think that with the advanced telescopes and detectors astronomers have today, they could directly image planets around nearby stars (which we call exoplanets). This has proved extremely difficult, however, not only because the exoplanets are faint, but also because they are generally lost in the brilliant glare of the star they orbit. As we discuss in more detail in The Birth of Stars and the Discovery of Planets outside the Solar System, the detection techniques that work best are indirect: they observe the effects of the planet on the star it orbits, rather than seeing the planet itself.

The Configurations of Other Planetary Systems

Let’s look more closely at the progress in the detection of exoplanets. [link] shows the planets that were discovered each year by the two techniques we discussed. In the early years of exoplanet discovery, most of the planets were similar in mass to Jupiter. This is because, as mentioned above, the most massive planets were easiest to detect. In more recent years, planets smaller than Neptune and even close to the size of Earth have been detected.

Comparison between Theory and Data

Many of the planetary systems discovered so far do not resemble our own solar system. Consequently, we have had to reassess some aspects of the “standard models” for the formation of planetary systems. Science sometimes works in this way, with new data contradicting our expectations. The press often talks about a scientist making experiments to “confirm” a theory. Indeed, it is comforting when new data support a hypothesis or theory and increase our confidence in an earlier result. But the most exciting and productive moments in science often come when new data *don’t* support existing theories, forcing scientists to rethink their position and develop new and deeper insights into the way nature works.

Planetary Evolution

Geological Activity

We have seen a wide range in the level of geological activity on the terrestrial planets and icy moons. Internal sources of such activity (as opposed to pummeling from above) require energy, either in the form of primordial heat left over from the formation of a planet or from the decay of radioactive elements in the interior. The larger the planet or moon, the more likely it is to retain its internal heat and the more slowly it cools—this is the “baked potato effect” mentioned in Other Worlds: An Introduction to the Solar System. Therefore, we are more likely to see evidence of continuing geological activity on the surface of larger (solid) worlds ([link]). Jupiter’s moon Io is an interesting exception to this rule; we saw that it has an unusual source of heat from the gravitational flexing of its interior by the tidal pull of Jupiter. Europa is probably also heated by jovian tides. Saturn may be having a similar effect on its moon Enceladus.

Elevation Differences

Let’s look at some specific examples of how planets differ. The mountains on the terrestrial planets owe their origins to different processes. On the Moon and Mercury, the major mountains are ejecta thrown up by the large basin-forming impacts that took place billions of years ago. Most large mountains on Mars are volcanoes, produced by repeated eruptions of lava from the same vents. There are similar (but smaller) volcanoes on Earth and Venus. However, the highest mountains on Earth and Venus are the result of compression and uplift of the surface. On Earth, this crustal compression results from collisions of one continental plate with another.

Atmospheres

The atmospheres of the planets were formed by a combination of gas escaping from their interiors and the impacts of volatile-rich debris from the outer solar system. Each of the terrestrial planets must have originally had similar atmospheres, but Mercury was too small and too hot to retain its gas. The Moon probably never had an atmosphere since the material composing it was depleted in volatile materials.

The Sun: A Garden-Variety Star

Thinking Ahead

The Structure and Composition of the Sun

Composition of the Sun’s Atmosphere

Let’s begin by asking what the solar atmosphere is made of. As explained in Radiation and Spectra, we can use a star’s *absorption line* *spectrum* to determine what elements are present. It turns out that the Sun contains the same elements as Earth but *not* in the same proportions. About 73% of the Sun’s mass is hydrogen, and another 25% is helium. All the other chemical elements (including those we know and love in our own bodies, such as carbon, oxygen, and nitrogen) make up only 2% of our star. The 10 most abundant gases in the Sun’s visible surface layer are listed in [link]. Examine that table and notice that the composition of the Sun’s outer layer is very different from Earth’s crust, where we live. (In our planet’s crust, the three most abundant elements are oxygen, silicon, and aluminum.) Although not like our planet’s, the makeup of the Sun is quite typical of stars in general.

The Layers of the Sun beneath the Visible Surface

[link] shows what the Sun would look like if we could see all parts of it from the center to its outer atmosphere; the terms in the figure will become familiar to you as you read on.

The Solar Photosphere

Earth’s air is generally transparent. But on a smoggy day in many cities, it can become opaque, which prevents us from seeing through it past a certain point. Something similar happens in the Sun. Its outer atmosphere is transparent, allowing us to look a short distance through it. But when we try to look through the atmosphere deeper into the Sun, our view is blocked. The photosphere is the layer where the Sun becomes opaque and marks the boundary past which we cannot see ([link]).

The Chromosphere

The Sun’s outer gases extend far beyond the photosphere ([link]). Because they are transparent to most visible radiation and emit only a small amount of light, these outer layers are difficult to observe. The region of the Sun’s atmosphere that lies immediately above the photosphere is called the chromosphere. Until this century, the chromosphere was visible only when the photosphere was concealed by the Moon during a total solar eclipse (see the chapter on Earth, Moon, and Sky). In the seventeenth century, several observers described what appeared to them as a narrow red “streak” or “fringe” around the edge of the Moon during a brief instant after the Sun’s photosphere had been covered. The name *chromosphere*, from the Greek for “colored sphere,” was given to this red streak.

The Transition Region

The increase in temperature does not stop with the chromosphere. Above it is a region in the solar atmosphere where the temperature changes from 10,000 K (typical of the chromosphere) to nearly a million degrees. The hottest part of the solar atmosphere, which has a temperature of a million degrees or more, is called the corona. Appropriately, the part of the Sun where the rapid temperature rise occurs is called the transition region. It is probably only a few tens of kilometers thick. [link] summarizes how the temperature of the solar atmosphere changes from the photosphere outward.

The Corona

The outermost part of the Sun’s atmosphere is called the *corona*. Like the chromosphere, the corona was first observed during total eclipses ([link]). Unlike the chromosphere, the corona has been known for many centuries: it was referred to by the Roman historian Plutarch and was discussed in some detail by Kepler.

The Solar Wind

One of the most remarkable discoveries about the Sun’s atmosphere is that it produces a stream of charged particles (mainly protons and electrons) that we call the solar wind. These particles flow outward from the Sun into the solar system at a speed of about 400 kilometers per second (almost 1 million miles per hour)! The solar wind exists because the gases in the corona are so hot and moving so rapidly that they cannot be held back by solar gravity. (This wind was actually discovered by its effects on the charged tails of comets; in a sense, we can see the comet tails blow in the solar breeze the way wind socks at an airport or curtains in an open window flutter on Earth.)

The Solar Cycle

Sunspots

The first evidence that the Sun changes came from studies of sunspots, which are large, dark features seen on the surface of the Sun caused by increased magnetic activity. They look darker because the spots are typically at a temperature of about 3800 K, whereas the bright regions that surround them are at about 5800 K ([link]). Occasionally, these spots are large enough to be visible to the unaided eye, and we have records going back over a thousand years from observers who noticed them when haze or mist reduced the Sun’s intensity. (We emphasize what your parents have surely told you: looking at the Sun for even a brief time can cause permanent eye damage. This is the one area of astronomy where we don’t encourage you to do your own observing without getting careful instructions or filters from your instructor.)

The Sunspot Cycle

Between 1826 and 1850, Heinrich Schwabe, a German pharmacist and amateur astronomer, kept daily records of the number of sunspots. What he was really looking for was a planet inside the orbit of Mercury, which he hoped to find by observing its dark silhouette as it passed between the Sun and Earth. He failed to find the hoped-for planet, but his diligence paid off with an even-more important discovery: the sunspot cycle. He found that the number of sunspots varied systematically, in cycles about a decade long.

Magnetism and the Solar Cycle

Now that we have discussed the Sun’s activity cycle, you might be asking, “Why does the Sun change in such a regular way?” Astronomers now understand that it is the Sun’s changing magnetic field that drives solar activity.

Solar Activity above the Photosphere

Plages and Prominences

As we saw, emission lines of hydrogen and calcium are produced in the hot gases of the chromosphere. Astronomers routinely photograph the Sun through filters that transmit light only at the wavelengths that correspond to these emission lines. Pictures taken through these special filters show bright “clouds” in the chromosphere around sunspots; these bright regions are known as plages ([link]). These are regions within the chromosphere that have higher temperature and density than their surroundings. The plages actually contain all of the elements in the Sun, not just hydrogen and calcium. It just happens that the spectral lines of hydrogen and calcium produced by these clouds are bright and easy to observe.

Flares and Coronal Mass Ejections

The most violent event on the surface of the Sun is a rapid eruption called a solar flare ([link]). A typical flare lasts for 5 to 10 minutes and releases a total amount of energy equivalent to that of perhaps a million hydrogen bombs. The largest flares last for several hours and emit enough energy to power the entire United States at its current rate of electrical consumption for 100,000 years. Near sunspot maximum, small flares occur several times per day, and major ones may occur every few weeks.

Active Regions

To bring the discussion of the last two sections together, astronomers now realize that sunspots, flares, and bright regions in the chromosphere and corona tend to occur together on the Sun in time and space. That is, they all tend to have similar longitudes and latitudes, but they are located at different heights in the atmosphere. Because they all occur together, they vary with the sunspot cycle.

Space Weather

Some History

What we now study as space weather was first recognized (though not yet understood) in 1859, in what is now known as the Carrington Event. In early September of that year, two amateur astronomers, including Richard Carrington in England, independently observed a solar flare. This was followed a day or two later by a significant solar storm reaching the region of Earth’s magnetic field, which was soon overloaded with charged particles (see Earth as a Planet).

Sources of Space Weather

Three solar phenomena—coronal holes, solar flares, and CMEs—account for most of the space weather we experience. Coronal holes allow the solar wind to flow freely away from the Sun, unhindered by solar magnetic fields. When the solar wind reaches Earth, as we saw, it causes Earth’s magnetosphere to contract and then expand after the solar wind passes by. These changes can cause (usually mild) electromagnetic disturbances on Earth.

Solar Storm Damage on Earth

When a CME reaches Earth, it distorts Earth’s magnetic field. Since a changing magnetic field induces electrical current, the CME accelerates electrons, sometimes to very high speeds. These “killer electrons” can penetrate deep into satellites, sometimes destroying their electronics and permanently disabling operation. This has happened with some communications satellites.

Earth’s Climate and the Sunspot Cycle: Is There a Connection?

While the Sun rises faithfully every day at a time that can be calculated precisely, scientists have determined that the Sun’s energy output is not truly constant but varies over the centuries by a small amount—probably less than 1%. We’ve seen that the number of sunspots varies, with the time between sunspot maxima of about 11 years, and that the number of sunspots at maximum is not always the same. Considerable evidence shows that between the years 1645 and 1715, the number of sunspots, even at sunspot maximum, was much lower than it is now. This interval of significantly low sunspot numbers was first noted by Gustav Spӧrer in 1887 and then by E. W. Maunder in 1890; it is now called the Maunder Minimum. The variation in the number of sunspots over the past three centuries is shown in [link]. Besides the Maunder Minimum in the seventeenth century, sunspot numbers were somewhat lower during the first part of the nineteenth century than they are now; this period is called the Little Maunder Minimum.

The Sun: A Nuclear Powerhouse

Thinking Ahead

Sources of Sunshine: Thermal and Gravitational Energy

Conservation of Energy

Other nineteenth-century attempts to determine what makes the Sun shine used the law of conservation of energy. Simply stated, this law says that energy cannot be created or destroyed, but can be transformed from one type to another, such as from heat to mechanical energy. The steam engine, which was key to the Industrial Revolution, provides a good example. In this type of engine, the hot steam from a boiler drives the movement of a piston, converting heat energy into motion energy.

Gravitational Contraction as a Source of Energy

Proposing an alternative explanation, British physicist Lord Kelvin and German scientist Hermann von Helmholtz ([link]), in about the middle of the nineteenth century, proposed that the Sun might produce energy by the conversion of gravitational energy into heat. They suggested that the outer layers of the Sun might be “falling” inward because of the force of gravity. In other words, they proposed that the Sun could be shrinking in size, staying hot and bright as a result.

Mass, Energy, and the Theory of Relativity

Converting Matter into Energy

The remarkable equivalence between matter and energy is given in one of the most famous equations:

Elementary Particles

The fundamental components of atoms are the proton, neutron, and electron (see The Structure of the Atom).

The Atomic Nucleus

The nucleus of an atom is not just a loose collection of elementary particles. Inside the nucleus, particles are held together by a very powerful force called the strong nuclear force. This is short-range force, only capable of acting over distances about the size of the atomic nucleus. A quick thought experiment shows how important this force is. Take a look at your finger and consider the atoms composing it. Among them is carbon, one of the basic elements of life. Focus your imagination on the nucleus of one of your carbon atoms. It contains six protons, which have a positive charge, and six neutrons, which are neutral. Thus, the nucleus has a net charge of six positives. If only the electrical force were acting, the protons in this and every carbon atom would find each other very repulsive and fly apart.

Nuclear Attraction versus Electrical Repulsion

So far, we seem to have a very attractive prescription for producing the energy emitted by the Sun: “roll” some nuclei together and join them via nuclear fusion. This will cause them to lose some of their mass, which then turns into energy. However, every nucleus beyond simple hydrogen has two or more protons—and protons all have positive charges. Since like charges repel via the electrical force, the closer we get two nuclei to each other, the more they repel. It’s true that if we can get them within “striking distance” of the nuclear force, they will then come together with a much stronger attraction. But that striking distance is very tiny, about the size of a nucleus. How can we get nuclei close enough to participate in fusion?

Nuclear Reactions in the Sun’s Interior

The Sun, then, taps the energy contained in the nuclei of atoms through nuclear fusion. Let’s look at what happens in more detail. Deep inside the Sun, a three-step process takes four hydrogen nuclei and fuses them together to form a single helium nucleus. The helium nucleus is slightly less massive than the four hydrogen nuclei that combine to form it, and that mass is converted into energy.

The Proton-Proton Chain

The nuclear reactions in the Sun that we have been discussing can be described succinctly through the following nuclear formulas:

The Solar Interior: Theory

The Sun Is a Plasma

The Sun is so hot that all of the material in it is in the form of an ionized gas, called a plasma. Plasma acts much like a hot gas, which is easier to describe mathematically than either liquids or solids. The particles that constitute a gas are in rapid motion, frequently colliding with one another. This constant bombardment is the *pressure* of the gas ([link]).

The Sun Is Stable

The Sun, like the majority of other stars, is stable; it is neither expanding nor contracting. Such a star is said to be in a condition of *equilibrium*. All the forces within it are balanced, so that at each point within the star, the temperature, pressure, density, and so on are maintained at constant values. We will see in later chapters that even these stable stars, including the Sun, are changing as they evolve, but such evolutionary changes are so gradual that, for all intents and purposes, the stars are still in a state of equilibrium at any given time.

The Sun Is Not Cooling Down

As everyone who has ever left a window open on a cold winter night knows, heat always flows from hotter to cooler regions. As energy filters outward toward the surface of a star, it must be flowing from inner, hotter regions. The temperature cannot ordinarily get cooler as we go inward in a star, or energy would flow in and heat up those regions until they were at least as hot as the outer ones. Scientists conclude that the temperature is highest at the center of a star, dropping to lower and lower values toward the stellar surface. (The high temperature of the Sun’s chromosphere and corona may therefore appear to be a paradox. But remember from The Sun: A Garden-Variety Star that these high temperatures are maintained by magnetic effects, which occur in the Sun’s atmosphere.)

Heat Transfer in a Star

Since the nuclear reactions that generate the Sun’s energy occur deep within it, the energy must be transported from the center of the Sun to its surface—where we see it in the form of both heat and light. There are three ways in which energy can be transferred from one place to another. In conduction, atoms or molecules pass on their energy by colliding with others nearby. This happens, for example, when the handle of a metal spoon heats up as you stir a cup of hot coffee. In convection, currents of warm material rise, carrying their energy with them to cooler layers. A good example is hot air rising from a fireplace. In radiation, energetic photons move away from hot material and are absorbed by some material to which they convey some or all of their energy. You can feel this when you put your hand close to the coils of an electric heater, allowing infrared photons to heat up your hand. Conduction and convection are both important in the interiors of planets. In stars, which are much more transparent, radiation and convection are important, whereas conduction can usually be ignored.

Model Stars

Scientists use the principles we have just described to calculate what the Sun’s interior is like. These physical ideas are expressed as mathematical equations that are solved to determine the values of temperature, pressure, density, the efficiency with which photons are absorbed, and other physical quantities throughout the Sun. The solutions obtained, based on a specific set of physical assumptions, provide a theoretical model for the interior of the Sun.

The Solar Interior: Observations

Solar Pulsations

Astronomers discovered that the Sun pulsates—that is, it alternately expands and contracts—just as your chest expands and contracts as you breathe. This pulsation is very slight, but it can be detected by measuring the *radial velocity* of the solar surface—the speed with which it moves toward or away from us. The velocities of small regions on the Sun are observed to change in a regular way, first toward Earth, then away, then toward, and so on. It is as if the Sun were “breathing” through thousands of individual lungs, each having a size in the range of 4000 to 15,000 kilometers, each fluctuating back and forth ([link]).

Solar Neutrinos

The second technique for obtaining information about the Sun’s interior involves the detection of a few of those elusive neutrinos created during nuclear fusion. Recall from our earlier discussion that neutrinos created in the center of the Sun make their way directly out of the Sun and travel to Earth at nearly the speed of light. As far as neutrinos are concerned, the Sun is transparent.

Analyzing Starlight

Thinking Ahead

The Brightness of Stars

Luminosity

Perhaps the most important characteristic of a star is its luminosity—the total amount of energy at all wavelengths that it emits per second. Earlier, we saw that the Sun puts out a tremendous amount of energy every second. (And there are stars far more luminous than the Sun out there.) To make the comparison among stars easy, astronomers express the luminosity of other stars in terms of the Sun’s luminosity. For example, the luminosity of Sirius is about 25 times that of the Sun. We use the symbol *L*Sun to denote the Sun’s luminosity; hence, that of Sirius can be written as 25 *L*Sun. In a later chapter, we will see that if we can measure how much energy a star emits and we also know its mass, then we can calculate how long it can continue to shine before it exhausts its nuclear energy and begins to die.

Apparent Brightness

Astronomers are careful to distinguish between the luminosity of the star (the total energy output) and the amount of energy that happens to reach our eyes or a telescope on Earth. Stars are democratic in how they produce radiation; they emit the same amount of energy in every direction in space. Consequently, only a minuscule fraction of the energy given off by a star actually reaches an observer on Earth. We call the amount of a star’s energy that reaches a given area (say, one square meter) each second here on Earth its apparent brightness. If you look at the night sky, you see a wide range of apparent brightnesses among the stars. Most stars, in fact, are so dim that you need a telescope to detect them.

The Magnitude Scale

The process of measuring the apparent brightness of stars is called *photometry* (from the Greek *photo* meaning “light” and –*metry* meaning “to measure”). As we saw Observing the Sky: The Birth of Astronomy, astronomical photometry began with Hipparchus. Around 150 B.C.E., he erected an observatory on the island of Rhodes in the Mediterranean. There he prepared a catalog of nearly 1000 stars that included not only their positions but also estimates of their apparent brightnesses.

Other Units of Brightness

Although the magnitude scale is still used for visual astronomy, it is not used at all in newer branches of the field. In radio astronomy, for example, no equivalent of the magnitude system has been defined. Rather, radio astronomers measure the amount of energy being collected each second by each square meter of a radio telescope and express the brightness of each source in terms of, for example, watts per square meter.

Colors of Stars

Color and Temperature

As we learned in The Electromagnetic Spectrum section, Wien’s law relates stellar color to stellar temperature. Blue colors dominate the visible light output of very hot stars (with much additional radiation in the ultraviolet). On the other hand, cool stars emit most of their visible light energy at red wavelengths (with more radiation coming off in the infrared) ([link]). The color of a star therefore provides a measure of its intrinsic or true surface temperature (apart from the effects of reddening by interstellar dust, which will be discussed in Between the Stars: Gas and Dust in Space). Color does not depend on the distance to the object. This should be familiar to you from everyday experience. The color of a traffic signal, for example, appears the same no matter how far away it is. If we could somehow take a star, observe it, and then move it much farther away, its apparent brightness (magnitude) would change. But this change in brightness is the same for all wavelengths, and so its color would remain the same.

Color Indices

In order to specify the exact color of a star, astronomers normally measure a star’s apparent brightness through filters, each of which transmits only the light from a particular narrow band of wavelengths (colors). A crude example of a filter in everyday life is a green-colored, plastic, soft drink bottle, which, when held in front of your eyes, lets only the green colors of light through.

The Spectra of Stars (and Brown Dwarfs)

Formation of Stellar Spectra

When the spectra of different stars were first observed, astronomers found that they were not all identical. Since the dark lines are produced by the chemical elements present in the stars, astronomers first thought that the spectra differ from one another because stars are not all made of the same chemical elements. This hypothesis turned out to be wrong. *The primary reason that* *stellar spectra look different is because the stars have different temperatures*. Most stars have nearly the same composition as the Sun, with only a few exceptions.

Classification of Stellar Spectra

Astronomers use the patterns of lines observed in stellar spectra to sort stars into a spectral class. Because a star’s temperature determines which absorption lines are present in its spectrum, these spectral classes are a measure of its surface temperature. There are seven standard spectral classes. From hottest to coldest, these seven spectral classes are designated O, B, A, F, G, K, and M. Recently, astronomers have added three additional classes for even cooler objects—L, T, and Y.

Spectral Classes L, T, and Y

The scheme devised by Cannon worked well until 1988, when astronomers began to discover objects even cooler than M9-type stars. We use the word *object* because many of the new discoveries are not true stars. A star is defined as an object that during some part of its lifetime derives 100% of its energy from the same process that makes the Sun shine—the fusion of hydrogen nuclei (protons) into helium. Objects with masses less than about 7.5% of the mass of our Sun (about 0.075 *M*Sun) do not become hot enough for hydrogen fusion to take place. Even before the first such “failed star” was found, this class of objects, with masses intermediate between stars and planets, was given the name brown dwarfs.

Low-Mass Brown Dwarfs vs. High-Mass Planets

An interesting property of brown dwarfs is that they are all about the same radius as Jupiter, regardless of their masses. Amazingly, this covers a range of masses from about 13 to 80 times the mass of Jupiter (*M*J). This can make distinguishing a low-mass brown dwarf from a high-mass planet very difficult.

Using Spectra to Measure Stellar Radius, Composition, and Motion

Clues to the Size of a Star

As we shall see in The Stars: A Celestial Census, stars come in a wide variety of sizes. At some periods in their lives, stars can expand to enormous dimensions. Stars of such exaggerated size are called giants. Luckily for the astronomer, stellar spectra can be used to distinguish giants from run-of-the-mill stars (such as our Sun).

Abundances of the Elements

Absorption lines of a majority of the known chemical elements have now been identified in the spectra of the Sun and stars. If we see lines of iron in a star’s spectrum, for example, then we know immediately that the star must contain iron.

Radial Velocity

When we measure the spectrum of a star, we determine the wavelength of each of its lines. If the star is not moving with respect to the Sun, then the wavelength corresponding to each element will be the same as those we measure in a laboratory here on Earth. But if stars are moving toward or away from us, we must consider the *Doppler effect* (see The Doppler Effect section). We should see all the spectral lines of moving stars shifted toward the red end of the spectrum if the star is moving away from us, or toward the blue (violet) end if it is moving toward us ([link]). The greater the shift, the faster the star is moving. Such motion, along the line of sight between the star and the observer, is called radial velocity and is usually measured in kilometers per second.

Proper Motion

There is another type of motion stars can have that cannot be detected with stellar spectra. Unlike radial motion, which is along our line of sight (i.e., toward or away from Earth), this motion, called proper motion, is *transverse*: that is, across our line of sight. We see it as a change in the relative positions of the stars on the celestial sphere ([link]). These changes are very slow. Even the star with the largest proper motion takes 200 years to change its position in the sky by an amount equal to the width of the full Moon, and the motions of other stars are smaller yet.

Rotation

We can also use the Doppler effect to measure how fast a star rotates. If an object is rotating, then one of its sides is approaching us while the other is receding (unless its axis of rotation happens to be pointed exactly toward us). This is clearly the case for the Sun or a planet; we can observe the light from either the approaching or receding edge of these nearby objects and directly measure the Doppler shifts that arise from the rotation.

The Stars: A Celestial Census

Thinking Ahead

A Stellar Census

Small Is Beautiful—Or at Least More Common

When we do a census of people in the United States, we count the inhabitants by neighborhood. We can try the same approach for our stellar census and begin with our own immediate neighborhood. As we shall see, we run into two problems—just as we do with a census of human beings. First, it is hard to be sure we have counted *all* the inhabitants; second, our local neighborhood may not contain all possible types of people.

Bright Does Not Necessarily Mean Close

If we confine our census to the local neighborhood, we will miss many of the most interesting kinds of stars. After all, the neighborhood in which you live does not contain all the types of people—distinguished according to age, education, income, race, and so on—that live in the entire country. For example, a few people do live to be over 100 years old, but there may be no such individual within several miles of where you live. In order to sample the full range of the human population, you would have to extend your census to a much larger area. Similarly, some types of stars simply are not found nearby.

Measuring Stellar Masses

Binary Stars

Before we discuss in more detail how mass can be measured, we will take a closer look at stars that come in pairs. The first binary star was discovered in 1650, less than half a century after Galileo began to observe the sky with a telescope. Giovanni Battista Riccioli (1598–1671), an Italian astronomer, noted that the star Mizar, in the middle of the Big Dipper’s handle, appeared through his telescope as two stars. Since that discovery, thousands of binary stars have been cataloged. (Astronomers call any pair of stars that appear to be close to each other in the sky *double* *stars*, but not all of these form a true binary, that is, not all of them are physically associated. Some are just chance alignments of stars that are actually at different distances from us.) Although stars most commonly come in pairs, there are also triple and quadruple systems.

Masses from the Orbits of Binary Stars

We can estimate the masses of binary star systems using Newton’s reformulation of Kepler’s third law (discussed in Newton’s Universal Law of Gravitation). Kepler found that the time a planet takes to go around the Sun is related by a specific mathematical formula to its distance from the Sun. In our binary star situation, if two objects are in mutual revolution, then the period (*P*) with which they go around each other is related to the semimajor axis (*D*) of the orbit of one with respect to the other, according to this equation

The Range of Stellar Masses

How large can the mass of a star be? Stars more massive than the Sun are rare. None of the stars within 30 light-years of the Sun has a mass greater than four times that of the Sun. Searches at large distances from the Sun have led to the discovery of a few stars with masses up to about 100 times that of the Sun, and a handful of stars (a few out of several billion) may have masses as large as 250 solar masses. However, most stars have less mass than the Sun.

The Mass-Luminosity Relation

Now that we have measurements of the characteristics of many different types of stars, we can search for relationships among the characteristics. For example, we can ask whether the mass and luminosity of a star are related. It turns out that for most stars, they are: The more massive stars are generally also the more luminous. This relationship, known as the mass-luminosity relation, is shown graphically in [link]. Each point represents a star whose mass and luminosity are both known. The horizontal position on the graph shows the star’s mass, given in units of the Sun’s mass, and the vertical position shows its luminosity in units of the Sun’s luminosity.

Diameters of Stars

Stars Blocked by the Moon

One technique, which gives very precise diameters but can be used for only a few stars, is to observe the dimming of light that occurs when the Moon passes in front of a star. What astronomers measure (with great precision) is the time required for the star’s brightness to drop to zero as the edge of the Moon moves across the star’s disk. Since we know how rapidly the Moon moves in its orbit around Earth, it is possible to calculate the angular diameter of the star. If the distance to the star is also known, we can calculate its diameter in kilometers. This method works only for fairly bright stars that happen to lie along the zodiac, where the Moon (or, much more rarely, a planet) can pass in front of them as seen from Earth.

Eclipsing Binary Stars

Accurate sizes for a large number of stars come from measurements of eclipsing binary star systems, and so we must make a brief detour from our main story to examine this type of star system. Some binary stars are lined up in such a way that, when viewed from Earth, each star passes in front of the other during every revolution ([link]). When one star blocks the light of the other, preventing it from reaching Earth, the brightness of the system decreases, and astronomers say that an eclipse has occurred.

Diameters of Eclipsing Binary Stars

We now turn back to the main thread of our story to discuss how all this can be used to measure the sizes of stars. The technique involves making a light curve of an eclipsing binary, a graph that plots how the brightness changes with time. Let us consider a hypothetical binary system in which the stars are very different in size, like those illustrated in [link]. To make life easy, we will assume that the orbit is viewed exactly edge-on.

Using the Radiation Law to Get the Diameter

Another method for measuring star diameters makes use of the Stefan-Boltzmann law for the relationship between energy radiated and temperature (see Radiation and Spectra). In this method, the *energy flux* (energy emitted per second per square meter by a blackbody, like the Sun) is given by

Stellar Diameters

The results of many stellar size measurements over the years have shown that most nearby stars are roughly the size of the Sun, with typical diameters of a million kilometers or so. Faint stars, as we might have expected, are generally smaller than more luminous stars. However, there are some dramatic exceptions to this simple generalization.

The H–R Diagram

Features of the H–R Diagram

Following Hertzsprung and Russell, let us plot the temperature (or spectral class) of a selected group of nearby stars against their luminosity and see what we find ([link]). Such a plot is frequently called the *Hertzsprung–Russell diagram*, abbreviated H–R diagram. It is one of the most important and widely used diagrams in astronomy, with applications that extend far beyond the purposes for which it was originally developed more than a century ago.

Understanding the Main Sequence

In The Sun: A Nuclear Powerhouse, we discussed the Sun as a representative star. We saw that what stars such as the Sun “do for a living” is to convert protons into helium deep in their interiors via the process of nuclear fusion, thus producing energy. The fusion of protons to helium is an excellent, long-lasting source of energy for a star because the bulk of every star consists of hydrogen atoms, whose nuclei are protons.

Extremes of Stellar Luminosities, Diameters, and Densities

We can use the H–R diagram to explore the extremes in size, luminosity, and density found among the stars. Such extreme stars are not only interesting to fans of the *Guinness Book of World Records*; they can teach us a lot about how stars work. For example, we saw that the most massive main-sequence stars are the most luminous ones. We know of a few extreme stars that are a million times more luminous than the Sun, with masses that exceed 100 times the Sun’s mass. These superluminous stars, which are at the upper left of the H–R diagram, are exceedingly hot, very blue stars of spectral type O. These are the stars that would be the most conspicuous at vast distances in space.

The White Dwarfs

The best-known white dwarf star was detected in 1862. Called Sirius B, it forms a binary system with Sirius A, the brightest-appearing star in the sky. It eluded discovery and analysis for a long time because its faint light tends to be lost in the glare of nearby Sirius A ([link]). (Since Sirius is often called the Dog Star—being the brightest star in the constellation of Canis Major, the big dog—Sirius B is sometimes nicknamed the Pup.)

Celestial Distances

Thinking Ahead

Fundamental Units of Distance

The Metric System

One of the enduring legacies of the era of the French emperor Napoleon is the establishment of the *metric system* of units, officially adopted in France in 1799 and now used in most countries around the world. The fundamental metric unit of length is the *meter*, originally defined as one ten-millionth of the distance along Earth’s surface from the equator to the pole. French astronomers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were pioneers in determining the dimensions of Earth, so it was logical to use their information as the foundation of the new system.

Modern Redefinitions of the Meter

In 1960, the official definition of the meter was changed again. As a result of improved technology for generating spectral lines of precisely known wavelengths (see the chapter on Radiation and Spectra), the meter was redefined to equal 1,650,763.73 wavelengths of a particular atomic transition in the element krypton-86. The advantage of this redefinition is that anyone with a suitably equipped laboratory can reproduce a standard meter, without reference to any particular metal bar.

Distance within the Solar System

The work of Copernicus and Kepler established the *relative* distances of the planets—that is, how far from the Sun one planet is compared to another (see Observing the Sky: The Birth of Astronomy and Orbits and Gravity). But their work could not establish the *absolute* distances (in light-seconds or meters or other standard units of length). This is like knowing the height of all the students in your class only as compared to the height of your astronomy instructor, but not in inches or centimeters. Somebody’s height has to be measured directly.

Surveying the Stars

Triangulation in Space

A practical example of triangulation is your own depth perception. As you are pleased to discover every morning when you look in the mirror, your two eyes are located some distance apart. You therefore view the world from two different vantage points, and it is this dual perspective that allows you to get a general sense of how far away objects are.

Distances to Stars

As Earth travels from one side of its orbit to the other, it graciously provides us with a baseline of 2 AU, or about 300 million kilometers. Although this is a much bigger baseline than the diameter of Earth, the stars are *so far away* that the resulting parallax shift is *still* not visible to the naked eye—not even for the closest stars.

Units of Stellar Distance

With a baseline of one AU, how far away would a star have to be to have a parallax of 1 arcsecond? The answer turns out to be 206,265 AU, or 3.26 light-years. This is equal to $3.1×{10}^{13}$ kilometers (in other words, 31 trillion kilometers). We give this unit a special name, the parsec (pc)—derived from “the distance at which we have a *par*allax of one *sec*ond.” The distance (*D*) of a star in parsecs is just the reciprocal of its parallax (*p*) in arcseconds; that is,

The Nearest Stars

No known star (other than the Sun) is within 1 light-year or even 1 parsec of Earth. The stellar neighbors nearest the Sun are three stars in the constellation of Centaurus. To the unaided eye, the brightest of these three stars is Alpha Centauri, which is only 30○ from the south celestial pole and hence not visible from the mainland United States. Alpha Centauri itself is a binary star—two stars in mutual revolution—too close together to be distinguished without a telescope. These two stars are 4.4 light-years from us. Nearby is a third faint star, known as Proxima Centauri. Proxima, with a distance of 4.25 light-years, is slightly closer to us than the other two stars. If Proxima Centauri is part of a triple star system with the binary Alpha Centauri, as seems likely, then its orbital period may be longer than 500,000 years.

Measuring Parallaxes in Space

The measurements of stellar parallax were revolutionized by the launch of the spacecraft Hipparcos in 1989, which measured distances for thousands of stars out to about 300 light-years with an accuracy of 10 to 20% (see [link] and the feature on Parallax and Space Astronomy). However, even 300 light-years are less than 1% the size of our Galaxy’s main disk.

Variable Stars: One Key to Cosmic Distances

Variable Stars

The breakthrough in measuring distances to remote parts of our Galaxy, and to other galaxies as well, came from the study of variable stars. Most stars are constant in their luminosity, at least to within a percent or two. Like the Sun, they generate a steady flow of energy from their interiors. However, some stars are seen to vary in brightness and, for this reason, are called *variable stars*. Many such stars vary on a regular cycle, like the flashing bulbs that decorate stores and homes during the winter holidays.

Pulsating Variables

There are two special types of variable stars for which—as we will see—measurements of the light curve give us accurate distances. These are called cepheid and RR Lyrae variables, both of which are pulsating variable stars. Such a star actually changes its diameter with time—periodically expanding and contracting, as your chest does when you breathe. We now understand that these stars are going through a brief unstable stage late in their lives.

Cepheid Variables

Cepheids are large, yellow, pulsating stars named for the first-known star of the group, Delta Cephei. This, by the way, is another example of how confusing naming conventions get in astronomy; here, a whole class of stars is named after the constellation in which the first one happened to be found. (We textbook authors can only apologize to our readers for the whole mess!)

The Period-Luminosity Relation

The importance of cepheid variables lies in the fact that their periods and average luminosities turn out to be directly related. The longer the period (the longer the star takes to vary), the greater the luminosity. This period-luminosity relation was a remarkable discovery, one for which astronomers still (pardon the expression) thank their lucky stars. The period of such a star is easy to measure: a good telescope and a good clock are all you need. Once you have the period, the relationship (which can be put into precise mathematical terms) will give you the luminosity of the star.

RR Lyrae Stars

A related group of stars, whose nature was understood somewhat later than that of the cepheids, are called RR Lyrae variables, named for the star RR Lyrae, the best-known member of the group. More common than the cepheids, but less luminous, thousands of these pulsating variables are known in our Galaxy. The periods of RR Lyrae stars are always less than 1 day, and their changes in brightness are typically less than about a factor of two.

The H–R Diagram and Cosmic Distances

Distances from Spectral Types

As satisfying and productive as variable stars have been for distance measurement, these stars are rare and are not found near all the objects to which we wish to measure distances. Suppose, for example, we need the distance to a star that is not varying, or to a group of stars, none of which is a variable. In this case, it turns out the H–R diagram can come to our rescue.

A Few Words about the Real World

Introductory textbooks such as ours work hard to present the material in a straightforward and simplified way. In doing so, we sometimes do our students a disservice by making scientific techniques seem too clean and painless. In the real world, the techniques we have just described turn out to be messy and difficult, and often give astronomers headaches that last long into the day.

Between the Stars: Gas and Dust in Space

Thinking Ahead

The Interstellar Medium

Interstellar Gas

Ionized Hydrogen (H II) Regions—Gas Near Hot Stars

Some of the most spectacular astronomical photographs show interstellar gas located near hot stars ([link]). The strongest line in the visible region of the hydrogen spectrum is the red line in the Balmer series[footnote] (as explained in the chapter on Radiation and Spectra); this emission line accounts for the characteristic red glow in images like [link].

Scientists also call this red Balmer line the H-alpha line, with alpha meaning it is the first spectral line in the Balmer series.

Neutral Hydrogen Clouds

The very hot stars required to produce H II regions are rare, and only a small fraction of interstellar matter is close enough to such hot stars to be ionized by them. Most of the volume of the interstellar medium is filled with neutral (nonionized) hydrogen. How do we go about looking for it?

Ultra-Hot Interstellar Gas

While the temperatures of 10,000 K found in H II regions might seem warm, they are not the hottest phase of the interstellar medium. Some of the interstellar gas is at a temperature of a *million* degrees, even though there is no visible source of heat nearby. The discovery of this ultra-hot interstellar gas was a big surprise. Before the launch of astronomical observatories into space, which could see radiation in the ultraviolet and X-ray parts of the spectrum, astronomers assumed that most of the region between stars was filled with hydrogen at temperatures no warmer than those found in H II regions. But telescopes launched above Earth’s atmosphere obtained ultraviolet spectra that contained interstellar lines produced by oxygen atoms that have been ionized five times. To strip five electrons from their orbits around an oxygen nucleus requires a lot of energy. Subsequent observations with orbiting X-ray telescopes revealed that the Galaxy is filled with numerous bubbles of X-ray-emitting gas. To emit X-rays, and to contain oxygen atoms that have been ionized five times, gas must be heated to temperatures of a million degrees or more.

Molecular Clouds

A few simple molecules out in space, such as CN and CH, were discovered decades ago because they produce absorption lines in the visible-light spectra of stars behind them. When more sophisticated equipment for obtaining spectra in radio and infrared wavelengths became available, astronomers—to their surprise—found much more complex molecules in interstellar clouds as well.

Cosmic Dust

Detecting Dust

The dark cloud seen in [link] blocks the light of the many stars that lie behind it; note how the regions in other parts of the photograph are crowded with stars. Barnard 68 is an example of a relatively dense cloud or *dark nebula* containing tiny, solid dust grains. Such opaque clouds are conspicuous on any photograph of the Milky Way, the galaxy in which the Sun is located (see the figures in The Milky Way Galaxy). The “dark rift,” which runs lengthwise down a long part of the Milky Way in our sky and appears to split it in two, is produced by a collection of such obscuring clouds.

Interstellar Reddening

The tiny interstellar dust grains absorb some of the starlight they intercept. But at least half of the starlight that interacts with a grain is merely scattered, that is, it is redirected rather than absorbed. Since neither the absorbed nor the scattered starlight reaches us directly, both absorption and scattering make stars look dimmer. The effects of both processes are called interstellar extinction ([link]).

Interstellar Grains

Before we get to the details about interstellar dust, we should perhaps get one concern out of the way. Why couldn’t it be the interstellar *gas* that reddens distant stars and not the dust? We already know from everyday experience that atomic or molecular gas is almost transparent. Consider Earth’s atmosphere. Despite its very high density compared with that of interstellar gas, it is so transparent as to be practically invisible. (Gas does have a few specific spectral lines, but they absorb only a tiny fraction of the light as it passes through.)The quantity of *gas* required to produce the observed absorption of light in interstellar space would have to be enormous. The gravitational attraction of so great a mass of gas would affect the motions of stars in ways that could easily be detected. Such motions are not observed, and thus, the interstellar absorption cannot be the result of gases.

Cosmic Rays

The Nature of Cosmic Rays

Cosmic rays are mostly high-speed atomic nuclei and electrons. Speeds equal to 90% of the speed of light are typical. Almost 90% of the cosmic rays are hydrogen nuclei (protons) stripped of their accompanying electron. Helium and heavier nuclei constitute about 9% more. About 1% of cosmic rays have masses equal to the mass of the electron, and 10–20% of these carry positive charge rather than the negative charge that characterizes electrons. A positively charged particle with the mass of an electron is called a *positron* and is a form of *antimatter* (we discussed antimatter in The Sun: A Nuclear Powerhouse).

Where Do They Come From?

There is a serious problem in identifying the source of cosmic rays. Since light travels in straight lines, we can tell where it comes from simply by looking. Cosmic rays are charged particles, and their direction of motion can be changed by magnetic fields. The paths of cosmic rays are curved both by magnetic fields in interstellar space and by Earth’s own field. Calculations show that low-energy cosmic rays may spiral many times around Earth before entering the atmosphere where we can detect them. If an airplane circles an airport many times before landing, it is difficult for an observer to determine the direction from which it originated. So, too, after a cosmic ray circles Earth several times, it is impossible to know where its journey began.

The Life Cycle of Cosmic Material

Flows of Interstellar Gas

The most important thing to understand about the interstellar medium is that it is not static. Interstellar gas orbits through the Galaxy, and as it does so, it can become more or less dense, hotter and colder, and change its state of ionization. A particular parcel of gas may be neutral hydrogen at some point, then find itself near a young, hot star and become part of an H II region. The star may then explode as a supernova, heating the nearby gas up to temperatures of millions of degrees. Over millions of years, the gas may cool back down and become neutral again, before it collects into a dense region that gravity gathers into a giant molecular cloud ([link])

The Cycle of Dust and Heavy Elements

While much of the mass of the interstellar medium is material accreted during the last few billion years from intergalactic space, this is not true of the elements heavier than hydrogen and helium, or of the dust. Instead, these components of the interstellar medium were made inside stars in the Milky Way, which returned them to the interstellar medium at the end of their lives. We will talk more about this process in later chapters, but for now just bear in mind what we learned in The Sun: A Nuclear Powerhouse. What stars “do for a living” is fuse heavier elements from lighter ones, producing energy in the process. As stars mature, they begin to lose some of the newly made elements to the reservoir of interstellar matter.

Interstellar Matter around the Sun

The Birth of Stars and the Discovery of Planets outside the Solar System

Thinking Ahead

Star Formation

Molecular Clouds: Stellar Nurseries

As we saw in Between the Stars: Gas and Dust in Space, the most massive reservoirs of interstellar matter—and some of the most massive objects in the Milky Way Galaxy—are the giant molecular clouds. These clouds have cold interiors with characteristic temperatures of only 10–20 K; most of their gas atoms are bound into molecules. These clouds turn out to be the birthplaces of most stars in our Galaxy.

The Orion Molecular Cloud

Let’s discuss what happens in regions of star formation by considering a nearby site where stars are forming right now. One of the best-studied stellar nurseries is in the constellation of Orion, The Hunter, about 1500 light-years away ([link]). The pattern of the hunter is easy to recognize by the conspicuous “belt” of three stars that mark his waist. The Orion molecular cloud is much larger than the star pattern and is truly an impressive structure. In its long dimension, it stretches over a distance of about 100 light-years. The total quantity of molecular gas is about 200,000 times the mass of the Sun. Most of the cloud does not glow with visible light but betrays its presence by the radiation that the dusty gas gives off at infrared and radio wavelengths.

The Birth of a Star

Although regions such as Orion give us clues about how star formation begins, the subsequent stages are still shrouded in mystery (and a lot of dust). There is an enormous difference between the density of a molecular cloud core and the density of the youngest stars that can be detected. Direct observations of this collapse to higher density are nearly impossible for two reasons. First, the dust-shrouded interiors of molecular clouds where stellar births take place cannot be observed with visible light. Second, the timescale for the initial collapse—thousands of years—is very short, astronomically speaking. Since each star spends such a tiny fraction of its life in this stage, relatively few stars are going through the collapse process at any given time. Nevertheless, through a combination of theoretical calculations and the limited observations available, astronomers have pieced together a picture of what the earliest stages of stellar evolution are likely to be.

Winds and Jets

Recent observations suggest that T Tauri stars may actually be stars in a middle stage between protostars and hydrogen-fusing stars such as the Sun. High-resolution infrared images have revealed jets of material as well as *stellar winds* coming from some T Tauri stars, proof of interaction with their environment. A stellar wind consists mainly of protons (hydrogen nuclei) and electrons streaming away from the star at speeds of a few hundred kilometers per second (several hundred thousand miles per hour). When the wind first starts up, the disk of material around the star’s equator blocks the wind in its direction. Where the wind particles *can* escape most effectively is in the direction of the star’s poles.

The H–R Diagram and the Study of Stellar Evolution

Evolutionary Tracks

Let’s now use these ideas to follow the evolution of protostars that are on their way to becoming main-sequence stars. The evolutionary tracks of newly forming stars with a range of stellar masses are shown in [link]. These young stellar objects are not yet producing energy by nuclear reactions, but they derive energy from gravitational contraction—through the sort of process proposed for the Sun by Helmhotz and Kelvin in this last century (see the chapter on The Sun: A Nuclear Powerhouse).

Evolutionary Timescales

How long it takes a star to form depends on its mass. The numbers that label the points on each track in [link] are the times, in years, required for the embryo stars to reach the stages we have been discussing. Stars of masses much higher than the Sun’s reach the main sequence in a few thousand to a million years. The Sun required millions of years before it was born. Tens of millions of years are required for stars of lower mass to evolve to the lower main sequence. (We will see that this turns out to be a general principle: massive stars go through *all* stages of evolution faster than low-mass stars do.)

Evidence That Planets Form around Other Stars

Disks around Protostars: Planetary Systems in Formation

It is a lot easier to detect the spread-out raw material from which planets might be assembled than to detect planets after they are fully formed. From our study of the solar system, we understand that planets form by the gathering together of gas and dust particles in orbit around a newly created star. Each dust particle is heated by the young protostar and radiates in the infrared region of the spectrum. Before any planets form, we can detect such radiation from all of the spread-out individual dust particles that are destined to become parts of planets. We can also detect the silhouette of the disk if it blocks bright light coming from a source behind it ([link]).

The Timing of Planet Formation and Growth

We can use observations of how the disks change with time to estimate how long it takes for planets to form. If we measure the temperature and luminosity of a protostar, then, as we saw, we can place it in an H–R diagram like the one shown in [link]. By comparing the real star with our models of how protostars should evolve with time, we can estimate its age. We can then look at how the disks we observe change with the ages of the stars that they surround.

Debris Disks and Shepherd Planets

The dust around newly formed stars is gradually either incorporated into the growing planets in the newly forming planetary system or ejected through gravitational interactions with the planets into space. The dust will disappear after about 30 million years unless the disk is continually supplied with new material. Local comets and asteroids are the most likely sources of new dust. As the planet-size bodies grow, they stir up the orbits of smaller objects in the area. These small bodies collide at high speeds, shatter, and produce tiny particles of silicate dust and ices that can keep the disk supplied with the debris from these collisions.

Planets beyond the Solar System: Search and Discovery

Searching for Orbital Motion

Most exoplanet detections are made using techniques where we observe the *effect* that the planet exerts on the host star. For example, the gravitational tug of an unseen planet will cause a small wobble in the host star. Or, if its orbit is properly aligned, a planet will periodically cross in front of the star, causing the brightness of the star to dim.

Transiting Planets

The second method for indirect detection of exoplanets is based not on the motion of the star but on its brightness. When the orbital plane of the planet is tilted or inclined so that it is viewed edge-on, we will see the planet cross in front of the star once per orbit, causing the star to dim slightly; this event is known as transit. [link] shows a sketch of the transit at three time steps: (1) out of transit, (2) the start of transit, and (3) full transit, along with a sketch of the light curve, which shows the drop in the brightness of the host star. The amount of light blocked—the depth of the transit—depends on the area of the planet (its size) compared to the star. If we can determine the size of the star, the transit method tells us the size of the planet.

Direct Detection

The best possible evidence for an earthlike planet elsewhere would be an image. After all, “seeing is believing” is a very human prejudice. But imaging a distant planet is a formidable challenge indeed. Suppose, for example, you were a great distance away and wished to detect reflected light from Earth. Earth intercepts and reflects less than one billionth of the Sun’s radiation, so its apparent brightness in visible light is less than one billionth that of the Sun. Compounding the challenge of detecting such a faint speck of light, the planet is swamped by the blaze of radiation from its parent star.

Exoplanets Everywhere: What We Are Learning

Kepler Results

The Kepler telescope has been responsible for the discovery of most exoplanets, especially at smaller sizes, as illustrated in [link], where the Kepler discoveries are plotted in yellow. You can see the wide range of sizes, including planets substantially larger than Jupiter and smaller than Earth. The absence of Kepler-discovered exoplanets with orbital periods longer than a few hundred days is a consequence of the 4-year lifetime of the mission. (Remember that three evenly spaced transits must be observed to register a discovery.) At the smaller sizes, the absence of planets much smaller than one earth radius is due to the difficulty of detecting transits by very small planets. In effect, the “discovery space” for Kepler was limited to planets with orbital periods less than 400 days and sizes larger than Mars.

Planets with Known Densities

For several hundred exoplanets, we have been able to measure both the size of the planet from transit data and its mass from Doppler data, yielding an estimate of its density. Comparing the average density of exoplanets to the density of planets in our solar system helps us understand whether they are rocky or gaseous in nature. This has been particularly important for understanding the structure of the new categories of super-Earths and mini-Neptunes with masses between 3–10 times the mass of Earth. A key observation so far is that planets that are more than 10 times the mass of Earth have substantial gaseous envelopes (like Uranus and Neptune) whereas lower-mass planets are predominately rocky in nature (like the terrestrial planets).

Exoplanetary Systems

As we search for exoplanets, we don’t expect to find only one planet per star. Our solar system has eight major planets, half a dozen dwarf planets, and millions of smaller objects orbiting the Sun. The evidence we have of planetary systems in formation also suggest that they are likely to produce multi-planet systems.

New Perspectives on Planet Formation

How to Make a Hot Jupiter

The traditional model for the formation of planets works only if the giant planets are formed far from the central star (about 5–10 AU), where the disk is cold enough to have a fairly high density of solid matter needed to make the planet cores. It cannot explain the hot Jupiters, which are located very close to their stars where there is no solid matter because it would be completely vaporized. It also cannot explain the elliptical orbits we observe for some exoplanets because the orbit of a protoplanet, whatever its initial shape, will quickly become circular through interactions with the surrounding disk of material and will remain that way as the planet grows by sweeping up additional matter.

Forming Planetary Systems

When the Milky Way Galaxy was young, the stars that formed did not contain many heavy elements like iron. Several generations of star formation and star death were required to enrich the interstellar medium for subsequent generations of stars. Since planets seem to form “inside out,” starting with the accretion of the materials that can make the rocky cores with which planets start, astronomers wondered when in the history of the Galaxy, planet formation would turn on.

Habitable Exoplanets

While thousands of exoplanets have been discovered in the past two decades, every observational technique has fallen short of finding more than a few candidates that resemble Earth ([link]). Astronomers are not sure exactly what properties would define another Earth. Do we need to find a planet that is *exactly* the same size and mass as Earth? That may be difficult and may not be important from the perspective of habitability. After all, we have no reason to think that life could not have arisen on Earth if our planet had been a little bit smaller or larger. And, remember that how habitable a planet is depends on both its distance from its star and the nature of its atmosphere. The greenhouse effect can make some planets warmer (as it did for Venus and is doing more and more for Earth).

Stars from Adolescence to Old Age

Thinking Ahead

Evolution from the Main Sequence to Red Giants

Lifetimes on the Main Sequence

How many years a star remains in the main-sequence band depends on its mass. You might think that a more massive star, having more fuel, would last longer, but it’s not that simple. The lifetime of a star in a particular stage of evolution depends on how much nuclear fuel it has and on *how quickly* it uses up that fuel. (In the same way, how long people can keep spending money depends not only on how much money they have but also on how quickly they spend it. This is why many lottery winners who go on spending sprees quickly wind up poor again.) In the case of stars, more massive ones use up their fuel much more quickly than stars of low mass.

From Main-Sequence Star to Red Giant

Eventually, all the hydrogen in a star’s core, where it is hot enough for fusion reactions, is used up. The core then contains only helium, “contaminated” by whatever small percentage of heavier elements the star had to begin with. The helium in the core can be thought of as the accumulated “ash” from the nuclear “burning” of hydrogen during the main-sequence stage.

Models for Evolution to the Giant Stage

As we discussed earlier, astronomers can construct computer models of stars with different masses and compositions to see how stars change throughout their lives. [link], which is based on theoretical calculations by University of Illinois astronomer Icko Iben, shows an H–R diagram with several tracks of evolution from the main sequence to the giant stage. Tracks are shown for stars with different masses (from 0.5 to 15 times the mass of our Sun) and with chemical compositions similar to that of the Sun. The red line is the initial or zero-age main sequence. The numbers along the tracks indicate the time, in years, required for each star to reach those points in their evolution. Once again, you can see that the more massive a star is, the more quickly it goes through each stage in its life.

Star Clusters

Globular Clusters

Globular clusters were given this name because they are nearly symmetrical round systems of, typically, hundreds of thousands of stars. The most massive globular cluster in our own Galaxy is Omega Centauri, which is about 16,000 light-years away and contains several million stars ([link]). Note that the brightest stars in this cluster, which are red giants that have already completed the main-sequence phase of their evolution, are red-orange in color. These stars have typical surface temperatures around 4000 K. As we will see, globular clusters are among the oldest parts of our Milky Way Galaxy.

Open Clusters

Open clusters are found in the disk of the Galaxy. They have a range of ages, some as old as, or even older than, our Sun. The youngest open clusters are still associated with the interstellar matter from which they formed. Open clusters are smaller than globular clusters, usually having diameters of less than 30 light-years, and they typically contain only several dozen to several hundreds of stars ([link]). The stars in open clusters usually appear well separated from one another, even in the central regions, which explains why they are called “open.” Our Galaxy contains thousands of open clusters, but we can see only a small fraction of them. Interstellar dust, which is also concentrated in the disk, dims the light of more distant clusters so much that they are undetectable.

Stellar Associations

An association is a group of extremely young stars, typically containing 5 to 50 hot, bright O and B stars scattered over a region of space some 100–500 light-years in diameter. As an example, most of the stars in the constellation Orion form one of the nearest stellar associations. Associations also contain hundreds to thousands of low-mass stars, but these are much fainter and less conspicuous. The presence of really hot, luminous stars indicates that star formation in the association has occurred in the last million years or so. Since O stars go through their entire lives in only about a million years, they would not still be around unless star formation has occurred recently. It is therefore not surprising that associations are found in regions rich in the gas and dust required to form new stars. It’s like a brand new building still surrounded by some of the construction materials used to build it and with the landscape still showing signs of construction. On the other hand, because associations, like ordinary open clusters, lie in regions occupied by dusty interstellar matter, many are hidden from our view.

Checking Out the Theory

H–R Diagrams of Young Clusters

What does theory predict for the H–R diagram of a cluster whose stars have recently condensed from an interstellar cloud? Remember that at every stage of evolution, massive stars evolve more quickly than their lower-mass counterparts. After a few million years (“recently” for astronomers), the most massive stars should have completed their contraction phase and be on the main sequence, while the less massive ones should be off to the right, still on their way to the main sequence. These ideas are illustrated in [link], which shows the H–R diagram calculated by R. Kippenhahn and his associates at Munich University for a hypothetical cluster with an age of 3 million years.

H–R Diagrams of Older Clusters

After 4 billion years have passed, many more stars, including stars that are only a few times more massive than the Sun, have left the main sequence ([link]). This means that no stars are left near the top of the main sequence; only the low-mass stars near the bottom remain. The older the cluster, the lower the point on the main sequence (and the lower the mass of the stars) where stars begin to move toward the red giant region. The location in the H–R diagram where the stars have begun to leave the main sequence is called the main-sequence turnoff.

Further Evolution of Stars

Helium Fusion

Let’s begin by considering stars with composition like that of the Sun and whose *initial* masses are comparatively low—no more than about twice the mass of our Sun. (Such mass may not seem too low, but stars with masses less than this all behave in a fairly similar fashion. We will see what happens to more massive stars in the next section.) Because there are many more low-mass stars than high-mass stars in the Milky Way, the vast majority of stars—including our Sun—follow the scenario we are about to relate. By the way, we carefully used the term *initial masses* of stars because, as we will see, stars can lose quite a bit of mass in the process of aging and dying.

Becoming a Giant Again

After the helium flash, the star, having survived the “energy crisis” that followed the end of the main-sequence stage and the exhaustion of the hydrogen fuel at its center, finds its balance again. As the star readjusts to the release of energy from the triple-alpha process in its core, its internal structure changes once more: its surface temperature increases and its overall luminosity decreases. The point that represents the star on the H–R diagram thus moves to a new position to the left of and somewhat below its place as a red giant ([link]). The star then continues to fuse the helium in its core for a while, returning to the kind of equilibrium between pressure and gravity that characterized the main-sequence stage. During this time, a newly formed carbon nucleus at the center of the star can sometimes be joined by another helium nucleus to produce a nucleus of oxygen—another building block of life.

Mass Loss from Red-Giant Stars and the Formation of Planetary Nebulae

When stars swell up to become red giants, they have very large radii and therefore a low escape velocity.[footnote] Radiation pressure, stellar pulsations, and violent events like the helium flash can all drive atoms in the outer atmosphere away from the star, and cause it to lose a substantial fraction of its mass into space. Astronomers estimate that by the time a star like the Sun reaches the point of the helium flash, for example, it will have lost as much as 25% of its mass. And it can lose still more mass when it ascends the red-giant branch for the second time. As a result, aging stars are surrounded by one or more expanding shells of gas, each containing as much as 10–20% of the Sun’s mass (or 0.1–0.2 *M*Sun).

Recall that the force of gravity depends not only on the mass doing the pulling, but also on our distance from the center of gravity. As a red giant star gets a lot bigger, a point on the surface of the star is now farther from the center, and thus has less gravity. That’s why the speed needed to escape the star goes down.

Cosmic Recycling

The loss of mass by dying stars is a key step in the gigantic cosmic recycling scheme we discussed in Between the Stars: Gas and Dust in Space. Remember that stars form from vast clouds of gas and dust. As they end their lives, stars return part of their gas to the galactic reservoirs of raw material. Eventually, some of the expelled material from aging stars will participate in the formation of new star systems.

The Evolution of More Massive Stars

Making New Elements in Massive Stars

Massive stars evolve in much the same way that the Sun does (but always more quickly)—up to the formation of a carbon-oxygen core. One difference is that for stars with more than about twice the mass of the Sun, helium begins fusion more gradually, rather than with a sudden flash. Also, when more massive stars become red giants, they become so bright and large that we call them *supergiants*. Such stars can expand until their outer regions become as large as the orbit of Jupiter, which is precisely what the Hubble Space Telescope has shown for the star Betelgeuse (see [link]). They also lose mass very effectively, producing dramatic winds and outbursts as they age. [link] shows a wonderful image of the very massive star Eta Carinae, with a great deal of ejected material clearly visible.

Elements in Globular Clusters and Open Clusters Are Not the Same

The fact that the elements are made in stars over time explains an important difference between globular and open clusters. Hydrogen and helium, which are the most abundant elements in stars in the solar neighborhood, are also the most abundant constituents of stars in both kinds of clusters. However, the abundances of the elements *heavier* than helium are very different.

Approaching Death

Compared with the main-sequence lifetimes of stars, the events that characterize the last stages of stellar evolution pass very quickly (especially for massive stars). As the star’s luminosity increases, its rate of nuclear fuel consumption goes up rapidly—just at that point in its life when its fuel supply is beginning to run down.

The Death of Stars

Thinking Ahead

The Death of Low-Mass Stars

A Star in Crisis

In the last chapter, we left the life story of a star with a mass like the Sun’s just after it had climbed up to the red-giant region of the H–R diagram for a second time and had shed some of its outer layers to form a planetary nebula. Recall that during this time, the *core* of the star was undergoing an “energy crisis.” Earlier in its life, during a brief stable period, helium in the core had gotten hot enough to fuse into carbon (and oxygen). But after this helium was exhausted, the star’s core had once more found itself without a source of pressure to balance gravity and so had begun to contract.

Degenerate Stars

Because white dwarfs are far denser than any substance on Earth, the matter inside them behaves in a very unusual way—unlike anything we know from everyday experience. At this high density, gravity is incredibly strong and tries to shrink the star still further, but all the *electrons* resist being pushed closer together and set up a powerful pressure inside the core. This pressure is the result of the fundamental rules that govern the behavior of electrons (the quantum physics you were introduced to in The Sun: A Nuclear Powerhouse). According to these rules (known to physicists as the Pauli exclusion principle), which have been verified in studies of atoms in the laboratory, no two electrons can be in the same place at the same time doing the same thing. We specify the *place* of an electron by its position in space, and we specify what it is doing by its motion and the way it is spinning.

White Dwarfs

White dwarfs, then, are stable, compact objects with electron-degenerate cores that cannot contract any further. Calculations showing that white dwarfs are the likely end state of low-mass stars were first carried out by the Indian-American astrophysicist Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar. He was able to show how much a star will shrink before the degenerate electrons halt its further contraction and hence what its final diameter will be ([link]).

The Ultimate Fate of White Dwarfs

If the birth of a main-sequence star is defined by the onset of fusion reactions, then we must consider the end of all fusion reactions to be the time of a star’s death. As the core is stabilized by degeneracy pressure, a last shudder of fusion passes through the outside of the star, consuming the little hydrogen still remaining. Now the star is a true white dwarf: nuclear fusion in its interior has ceased. [link] shows the path of a star like the Sun on the H–R diagram during its final stages.

Evidence That Stars Can Shed a Lot of Mass as They Evolve

Whether or not a star will become a white dwarf depends on how much mass is lost in the red-giant and earlier phases of evolution. All stars that have masses below the Chandrasekhar limit when they run out of fuel will become white dwarfs, no matter what mass they were born with. But which stars shed enough mass to reach this limit?

Evolution of Massive Stars: An Explosive Finish

Nuclear Fusion of Heavy Elements

After the helium in its core is exhausted (see The Evolution of More Massive Stars), the evolution of a massive star takes a significantly different course from that of lower-mass stars. In a massive star, the weight of the outer layers is sufficient to force the carbon core to contract until it becomes hot enough to fuse carbon into oxygen, neon, and magnesium. This cycle of contraction, heating, and the ignition of another nuclear fuel repeats several more times. After each of the possible nuclear fuels is exhausted, the core contracts again until it reaches a new temperature high enough to fuse still-heavier nuclei. The products of carbon fusion can be further converted into silicon, sulfur, calcium, and argon. And these elements, when heated to a still-higher temperature, can combine to produce iron. Massive stars go through these stages very, very quickly. In really massive stars, some fusion stages toward the very end can take only months or even days! This is a far cry from the millions of years they spend in the main-sequence stage.

Collapse into a Ball of Neutrons

When nuclear reactions stop, the core of a massive star is supported by degenerate electrons, just as a white dwarf is. For stars that begin their evolution with masses of at least 10 *M*Sun, this core is likely made mainly of iron. (For stars with initial masses in the range 8 to 10 *M*Sun, the core is likely made of oxygen, neon, and magnesium, because the star never gets hot enough to form elements as heavy as iron. The exact composition of the cores of stars in this mass range is very difficult to determine because of the complex physical characteristics in the cores, particularly at the very high densities and temperatures involved.) We will focus on the more massive iron cores in our discussion.

Collapse and Explosion

When the collapse of a high-mass star’s core is stopped by degenerate neutrons, the core is saved from further destruction, but it turns out that the rest of the star is literally blown apart. Here’s how it happens.

The Supernova Giveth and the Supernova Taketh Away

After the supernova explosion, the life of a massive star comes to an end. But the death of each massive star is an important event in the history of its galaxy. The elements built up by fusion during the star’s life are now “recycled” into space by the explosion, making them available to enrich the gas and dust that form new stars and planets. Because these heavy elements ejected by supernovae are critical for the formation of planets and the origin of life, it’s fair to say that without mass loss from supernovae and planetary nebulae, neither the authors nor the readers of this book would exist.[footnote]

To tell the full story, there is another way to make and recycle these heavier elements which we will discuss in The Milky Way Galaxy. That is the merger of two neutron stars, which also causes a huge explosion.

Supernova Observations

Supernova 1987A

Our most detailed information about what happens when a type II supernova occurs comes from an event that was observed in 1987. Before dawn on February 24, Ian Shelton, a Canadian astronomer working at an observatory in Chile, pulled a photographic plate from the developer. Two nights earlier, he had begun a survey of the Large Magellanic Cloud, a small galaxy that is one of the Milky Way’s nearest neighbors in space. Where he expected to see only faint stars, he saw a large bright spot. Concerned that his photograph was flawed, Shelton went outside to look at the Large Magellanic Cloud . . . and saw that a new object had indeed appeared in the sky (see [link]). He soon realized that he had discovered a supernova, one that could be seen with the unaided eye even though it was about 160,000 light-years away.

The Synthesis of Heavy Elements

The variations in the brightness of SN 1987A in the days and months after its discovery, which are shown in [link], helped confirm our ideas about heavy element production. In a single day, the star soared in brightness by a factor of about 1000 and became just visible without a telescope. The star then continued to increase slowly in brightness until it was about the same apparent brightness as the stars in the Little Dipper. Up until about day 40 after the outburst, the energy being radiated away was produced by the explosion itself. But then SN 1987A did not continue to fade away, as we might have expected the light from the explosion to do. Instead, SN 1987A remained bright as energy from newly created radioactive elements came into play.

Neutrinos from SN 1987A

If there had been any human observers in the Large Magellanic Cloud about 160,000 years ago, the explosion we call SN 1987A would have been a brilliant spectacle in their skies. Yet we know that less than 1/10 of 1% of the energy of the explosion appeared as visible light. About 1% of the energy was required to destroy the star, and the rest was carried away by neutrinos. The overall energy in these neutrinos was truly astounding. In the initial second of the event, as we noted earlier in our general discussion of supernovae, their total luminosity exceeded the luminosity of all the stars in over a billion galaxies. And the supernova generated this energy in a volume less than 50 kilometers in diameter! Supernovae are one of the most violent events in the universe, and their *light* turns out to be only the tip of the iceberg in revealing how much energy they produce.

Pulsars and the Discovery of Neutron Stars

The Discovery of Neutron Stars

In 1967, Jocelyn Bell, a research student at Cambridge University, was studying distant radio sources with a special detector that had been designed and built by her advisor Antony Hewish to find rapid variations in radio signals. The project computers spewed out reams of paper showing where the telescope had surveyed the sky, and it was the job of Hewish’s graduate students to go through it all, searching for interesting phenomena. In September 1967, Bell discovered what she called “a bit of scruff”—a strange radio signal unlike anything seen before.

A Spinning Lighthouse Model

By applying a combination of theory and observation, astronomers eventually concluded that pulsars must be *spinning neutron stars*. According to this model, a neutron star is something like a lighthouse on a rocky coast ([link]). To warn ships in all directions and yet not cost too much to operate, the light in a modern lighthouse turns, sweeping its beam across the dark sea. From the vantage point of a ship, you see a pulse of light each time the beam points in your direction. In the same way, radiation from a small region on a neutron star sweeps across the oceans of space, giving us a pulse of radiation each time the beam points toward Earth.

Tests of the Model

This explanation of pulsars in terms of beams of radiation from highly magnetic and rapidly spinning neutron stars is a very clever idea. But what evidence do we have that it is the correct model? First, we can measure the masses of some pulsars, and most turn out to be in the range of 1.4 to 1.8 times that of the Sun, and there are a few masses slightly over 2 solar masses. These masses are consistent with what theorists predict for neutron stars.

The Evolution of Pulsars

From observations of the pulsars discovered so far, astronomers have concluded that one new pulsar is born somewhere in the Galaxy every 25 to 100 years, the same rate at which supernovae are estimated to occur. Calculations suggest that the typical lifetime of a pulsar is about 10 million years; after that, the neutron star no longer rotates fast enough to produce significant beams of particles and energy, and is no longer observable. We estimate that there are about 100 million neutron stars in our Galaxy, most of them rotating too slowly to come to our notice.

The Evolution of Binary Star Systems

White Dwarf Explosions: The Mild Kind

Let’s consider the following system of two stars: one has become a white dwarf and the other is gradually transferring material onto it. As fresh hydrogen from the outer layers of its companion accumulates on the surface of the hot white dwarf, it begins to build up a layer of hydrogen. As more and more hydrogen accumulates and heats up on the surface of the degenerate star, the new layer eventually reaches a temperature that causes fusion to begin in a sudden, explosive way, blasting much of the new material away.

White Dwarf Explosions: The Violent Kind

If a white dwarf accumulates matter from a companion star at a much faster rate, it can be pushed over the Chandrasekhar limit. The evolution of such a binary system is shown in [link]. When its mass approaches the Chandrasekhar mass limit (exceeds 1.4 *M*Sun), such an object can no longer support itself as a white dwarf, and it begins to contract. As it does so, it heats up, and new nuclear reactions can begin in the degenerate core. The star “simmers” for the next century or so, building up internal temperature. This simmering phase ends in less than a second, when an enormous amount of fusion (especially of carbon) takes place all at once, resulting in an explosion. The fusion energy produced during the final explosion is so great that it completely destroys the white dwarf. Gases are blown out into space at velocities of about 10,000 kilometers per second, and afterward, no trace of the white dwarf remains.

Neutron Stars with Companions

Now let’s look at an even-more mismatched pair of stars in action. It is possible that, under the right circumstances, a binary system can even survive the explosion of one of its members as a type II supernova. In that case, an ordinary star can eventually share a system with a neutron star. If material is then transferred from the “living” star to its “dead” (and highly compressed) companion, this material will be pulled in by the strong gravity of the neutron star. Such infalling gas will be compressed and heated to incredible temperatures. It will quickly become so hot that it will experience an explosive burst of fusion. The energies involved are so great that we would expect much of the radiation from the burst to emerge as X-rays. And indeed, high-energy observatories above Earth’s atmosphere (see Astronomical Instruments) have recorded many objects that undergo just these types of X-ray *bursts*.

The Mystery of the Gamma-Ray Bursts

From a Few Bursts to Thousands

With the launch of the Compton Gamma-Ray Observatory by NASA in 1991, astronomers began to identify many more bursts and to learn more about them ([link]). Approximately once per day, the NASA satellite detected a flash of gamma rays somewhere in the sky that lasted from a fraction of a second to several hundred seconds. Before the Compton measurements, astronomers had expected that the most likely place for the bursts to come from was the main disk of our own (pancake-shaped) Galaxy. If this had been the case, however, more bursts would have been seen in the crowded plane of the Milky Way than above or below it. Instead, the sources of the bursts were distributed *isotropically*; that is, they could appear anywhere in the sky with no preference for one region over another. Almost never did a second burst come from the same location.

The First Afterglows

The problem with trying to figure out the source of the gamma-ray bursts was that our instruments for detecting gamma rays could not pinpoint the exact place in the sky where the burst was happening. Early gamma-ray telescopes did not have sufficient *resolution.* This was frustrating because astronomers suspected that if they *could* pinpoint the exact position of one of these rapid bursts, then they would be able to identify a counterpart (such as a star or galaxy) at other wavelengths and learn much more about the burst, including where it came from. This would, however, require either major improvements in gamma-ray detector technology to provide better resolution or detection of the burst at some other wavelength. In the end, both techniques played a role.

Networking to Catch More Bursts

After initial observations showed that the precise locations and afterglows of gamma-ray bursts could be found, astronomers set up a system to catch and pinpoint bursts on a regular basis. But to respond as quickly as needed to obtain usable results, astronomers realized that they needed to rely on automated systems rather than human observers happening to be in the right place at the right time.

To Beam or Not to Beam

The enormous distances to these events meant they had to have been astoundingly energetic to appear as bright as they were across such an enormous distance. In fact, they required so much energy that it posed a problem for gamma-ray burst models: if the source was radiating energy in all directions, then the energy released in gamma rays alone during a bright burst (such as the 1999 or 2008 events) would have been equivalent to the energy produced if the entire mass of a Sun-like star were suddenly converted into pure radiation.

Long-Duration Gamma-Ray Bursts: Exploding Stars

After identifying and following large numbers of gamma-ray bursts, astronomers began to piece together clues about what kind of event is thought to be responsible for producing the gamma-ray burst. Or, rather, what kind of *events*, because there are at least two distinct types of gamma-ray bursts. The two—like the different types of supernovae—are produced in completely different ways.

Short-Duration Gamma-Ray Bursts: Colliding Stellar Corpses

What about the shorter gamma-ray bursts? The gamma-ray emission from these events lasts less than 2 seconds, and in some cases may last only milliseconds—an amazingly short time. Such a timescale is difficult to achieve if they are produced in the same way as long-duration gamma-ray bursts, since the collapse of the stellar interior onto the black hole should take at least a few seconds.

Probing the Universe with Gamma-Ray Bursts

The story of how astronomers came to explain the origin of the different kinds of bursts is a good example of how the scientific process sometimes resembles good detective work. While the mystery of short-duration gamma-ray bursts is still being unraveled, the focus of studies for long-duration gamma-ray bursts has begun to change from understanding the origin of the bursts themselves (which is now fairly well-established) to using them as tools to understand the broader universe.

Black Holes and Curved Spacetime

Thinking Ahead

Introducing General Relativity

The Principle of Equivalence

The fundamental insight that led to the formulation of the general theory of relativity starts with a very simple thought: if you were able to jump off a high building and fall freely, you would not feel your own weight. In this chapter, we will describe how Einstein built on this idea to reach sweeping conclusions about the very fabric of space and time itself. He called it the “happiest thought of my life.”

Gravity or Acceleration?

Einstein’s simple idea has big consequences. Let’s begin by considering what happens if two foolhardy people jump from opposite banks into a bottomless chasm ([link]). If we ignore air friction, then we can say that while they freely fall, they both accelerate downward at the same rate and feel no external force acting on them. They can throw a ball back and forth, always aiming it straight at each other, as if there were no gravity. The ball falls at the same rate that they do, so it always remains in a line between them.

The Paths of Light and Matter

Einstein postulated that the equivalence principle is a fundamental fact of nature, and that there is *no* experiment inside any spacecraft by which an astronaut can ever distinguish between being weightless in remote space and being in free fall near a planet like Earth. This would apply to experiments done with beams of light as well. But the minute we use light in our experiments, we are led to some very disturbing conclusions—and it is these conclusions that lead us to general relativity and a new view of gravity.

Spacetime and Gravity

Linkages: Mass, Space, and Time

To show what Einstein’s insight really means, let’s first consider how we locate an event in space and time. For example, imagine you have to describe to worried school officials the fire that broke out in your room when your roommate tried cooking shish kebabs in the fireplace. You explain that your dorm is at 6400 College Avenue, a street that runs in the left-right direction on a map of your town; you are on the fifth floor, which tells where you are in the up-down direction; and you are the sixth room back from the elevator, which tells where you are in the forward-backward direction. Then you explain that the fire broke out at 6:23 p.m. (but was soon brought under control), which specifies the event in time. *Any* event in the universe, whether nearby or far away, can be pinpointed using the three dimensions of space and the one dimension of time.

Spacetime Examples

How can we understand the distortion of spacetime by the presence of some (significant) amount of mass? Let’s try the following analogy. You may have seen maps of New York City that squeeze the full three dimensions of this towering metropolis onto a flat sheet of paper and still have enough information so tourists will not get lost. Let’s do something similar with diagrams of spacetime.

Tests of General Relativity

The Motion of Mercury

Of the planets in our solar system, Mercury orbits closest to the Sun and is thus most affected by the distortion of spacetime produced by the Sun’s mass. Einstein wondered if the distortion might produce a noticeable difference in the motion of Mercury that was not predicted by Newton’s law. It turned out that the difference was subtle, but it was definitely there. Most importantly, it had already been measured.

Deflection of Starlight

Einstein’s second test was something that had not been observed before and would thus provide an excellent confirmation of his theory. Since spacetime is more curved in regions where the gravitational field is strong, we would expect light passing very near the Sun to appear to follow a curved path ([link]), just like that of the ant in our analogy. Einstein calculated from general relativity theory that starlight just grazing the Sun’s surface should be deflected by an angle of 1.75 arcsec. Could such a deflection be observed?

Time in General Relativity

The Tests of Time

An ingenious experiment in 1959 used the most accurate atomic clock known to compare time measurements on the ground floor and the top floor of the physics building at Harvard University. For a clock, the experimenters used the frequency (the number of cycles per second) of gamma rays emitted by radioactive cobalt. Einstein’s theory predicts that such a cobalt clock on the ground floor, being a bit closer to Earth’s center of gravity, should run very slightly slower than the same clock on the top floor. This is precisely what the experiments observed. Later, atomic clocks were taken up in high-flying aircraft and even on one of the Gemini space flights. In each case, the clocks farther from Earth ran a bit faster. While in 1959 it didn’t matter much if the clock at the top of the building ran faster than the clock in the basement, today that effect is highly relevant. Every smartphone or device that synchronizes with a GPS must correct for this (as we will see in the next section) since the clocks on satellites will run faster than clocks on Earth.

Gravitational Redshift

What does it mean to say that time runs more slowly? When light emerges from a region of strong gravity where time slows down, the light experiences a change in its frequency and wavelength. To understand what happens, let’s recall that a wave of light is a repeating phenomenon—crest follows crest with great regularity. In this sense, each light wave is a little clock, keeping time with its wave cycle. If stronger gravity slows down the pace of time (relative to an outside observer), then the rate at which crest follows crest must be correspondingly slower—that is, the waves become less *frequent*.

Relativity: A Practical Application

By now you may be asking: why should I be bothered with relativity? Can’t I live my life perfectly well without it? The answer is you can’t. Every time a pilot lands an airplane or you use a GPS to determine where you are on a drive or hike in the back country, you (or at least your GPS-enabled device) must take the effects of both general and special relativity into account.

Black Holes

Classical Collapse

Let’s begin with a thought experiment. We want to know what speeds are required to escape from the gravitational pull of different objects. A rocket must be launched from the surface of Earth at a very high speed if it is to escape the pull of Earth’s gravity. In fact, any object—rocket, ball, astronomy book—that is thrown into the air with a velocity less than 11 kilometers per second will soon fall back to Earth’s surface. Only those objects launched with a speed greater than this *escape velocity* can get away from Earth.

Collapse with Relativity

General relativity tells us that gravity is really a curvature of spacetime. As gravity increases (as in the collapsing Sun of our thought experiment), the curvature gets larger and larger. Eventually, if the Sun could shrink down to a diameter of about 6 kilometers, only light beams sent out perpendicular to the surface would escape. All others would fall back onto the star ([link]). If the Sun could then shrink just a little more, even that one remaining light beam would no longer be able to escape.

A Black Hole Myth

Much of the modern folklore about black holes is misleading. One idea you may have heard is that black holes go about sucking things up with their gravity. Actually, it is only very close to a black hole that the strange effects we have been discussing come into play. The gravitational attraction far away from a black hole is the same as that of the star that collapsed to form it.

A Trip into a Black Hole

The fact that scientists cannot see inside black holes has not kept them from trying to calculate what they are like. One of the first things these calculations showed was that the formation of a black hole obliterates nearly all information about the star that collapsed to form it. Physicists like to say “black holes have no hair,” meaning that nothing sticks out of a black hole to give us clues about what kind of star produced it or what material has fallen inside. The only information a black hole can reveal about itself is its mass, its spin (rotation), and whether it has any electrical charge.

Evidence for Black Holes

Requirements for a Black Hole

So, here is a prescription for finding a black hole: start by looking for a star whose motion (determined from the Doppler shift of its spectral lines) shows it to be a member of a binary star system. If both stars are visible, neither can be a black hole, so focus your attention on just those systems where only one star of the pair is visible, even with our most sensitive telescopes.

The Discovery of Stellar-Mass Black Holes

Because X-rays are such important tracers of black holes that are having some of their stellar companions for lunch, the search for black holes had to await the launch of sophisticated X-ray telescopes into space. These instruments must have the resolution to locate the X-ray sources accurately and thereby enable us to match them to the positions of binary star systems.

Feeding a Black Hole

After an isolated star, or even one in a binary star system, becomes a black hole, it probably won’t be able to grow much larger. Out in the suburban regions of the Milky Way Galaxy where we live (see The Milky Way Galaxy), stars and star systems are much too far apart for other stars to provide “food” to a hungry black hole. After all, material must approach very close to the event horizon before the gravity is any different from that of the star before it became the black hole.

Gravitational Wave Astronomy

Proof from a Pulsar

We’ve had indirect evidence for some time that gravitational waves exist. In 1974, astronomers Joseph Taylor and Russell Hulse discovered a pulsar (with the designation PSR1913+16) orbiting another neutron star. Pulled by the powerful gravity of its companion, the pulsar is moving at about one-tenth the speed of light in its orbit.

Direct Observations

Although such an indirect proof convinced physicists that gravitational waves exist, it is even more satisfying to detect the waves directly. What we need are phenomena that are powerful enough to produce gravitational waves with amplitudes large enough that we can measure them. Theoretical calculations suggest some of the most likely events that would give a burst of gravitational waves strong enough that our equipment on Earth could measure it:

The Milky Way Galaxy

Thinking Ahead

The Architecture of the Galaxy

Herschel Measures the Galaxy

In 1785, William Herschel ([link]) made the first important discovery about the architecture of the Milky Way Galaxy. Using a large reflecting telescope that he had built, William and his sister Caroline counted stars in different directions of the sky. They found that most of the stars they could see lay in a flattened structure encircling the sky, and that the numbers of stars were about the same in any direction around this structure. Herschel therefore concluded that the stellar system to which the Sun belongs has the shape of a disk or wheel (he might have called it a Frisbee except Frisbees hadn’t been invented yet), and that the Sun must be near the hub of the wheel ([link]).

Disks and Haloes

With modern instruments, astronomers can now penetrate the “smog” of the Milky Way by studying radio and infrared emissions from distant parts of the Galaxy. Measurements at these wavelengths (as well as observations of other galaxies like ours) have given us a good idea of what the Milky Way would look like if we *could* observe it from a distance.

Spiral Structure

The Arms of the Milky Way

Our radio observations of the disk’s gaseous component indicate that the Galaxy has two major spiral arms that emerge from the bar and several fainter arms and shorter spurs. You can see a recently assembled map of our Galaxy’s arm structure—derived from studies in the infrared—in [link].

Formation of Spiral Structure

At the Sun’s distance from its center, the Galaxy does not rotate like a solid wheel or a CD inside your player. Instead, the way individual objects turn around the center of the Galaxy is more like the solar system. Stars, as well as the clouds of gas and dust, obey Kepler’s third law. Objects farther from the center take longer to complete an orbit around the Galaxy than do those closer to the center. In other words, stars (and interstellar matter) in larger orbits in the Galaxy trail behind those in smaller ones. This effect is called differential galactic rotation.

The Mass of the Galaxy

Kepler Helps Weigh the Galaxy

The Sun, like all the other stars in the Galaxy, orbits the center of the Milky Way. Our star’s orbit is nearly circular and lies in the Galaxy’s disk. The speed of the Sun in its orbit is about 200 kilometers per second, which means it takes us approximately 225 million years to go once around the center of the Galaxy. We call the period of the Sun’s revolution the *galactic year*. It is a long time compared to human time scales; during the entire lifetime of Earth, only about 20 galactic years have passed. This means that we have gone only a tiny fraction of the way around the Galaxy in all the time that humans have gazed into the sky.

A Galaxy of Mostly Invisible Matter

In science, what seems to be a reasonable assumption can later turn out to be wrong (which is why we continue to do observations and experiments every chance we get). There is a lot more to the Milky Way than meets the eye (or our instruments). While there is relatively little luminous matter beyond 30,000 light-years, we now know that a lot of *invisible matter* exists at great distances from the galactic center.

The Center of the Galaxy

A Journey toward the Center

Let’s take a voyage to the mysterious heart of our Galaxy and see what’s there. [link] is a radio image of a region about 1500 light-years across, centered on Sagittarius A, a bright radio source that contains the smaller Sagittarius A\*. Much of the radio emission comes from hot gas heated either by clusters of hot stars (the stars themselves do not produce radio emission and can’t be seen in the image) or by supernova blast waves. Most of the hollow circles visible on the radio image are supernova remnants. The other main source of radio emission is from electrons moving at high speed in regions with strong magnetic fields. The bright thin arcs and “threads” on the figure show us where this type of emission is produced.

Finding the Heart of the Galaxy

Just what is Sagittarius A\*, which lies right at the center our Galaxy? To establish that there really is a black hole there, we must show that there is a very large amount of mass crammed into a very tiny volume. As we saw in Black Holes and Curved Spacetime, proving that a black hole exists is a challenge because the black hole itself emits no radiation. What astronomers must do is prove that a black hole is the only possible explanation for our observations—that a small region contains far more mass than could be accounted for by a very dense cluster of stars or something else made of ordinary matter.

Finding the Source

Where did our galactic black hole come from? The origin of supermassive black holes in galaxies like ours is currently an active field of research. One possibility is that a large cloud of gas near the center of the Milky Way collapsed directly to form a black hole. Since we find large black holes at the centers of most other large galaxies (see Active Galaxies, Quasars, and Supermassive Black Holes)—even ones that are very young—this collapse probably would have taken place when the Milky Way was just beginning to take shape. The initial mass of this black hole might have been only a few tens of solar masses. Another way it could have started is that a massive star might have exploded to leave behind a seed black hole, or a dense cluster of stars might have collapsed into a black hole.

Stellar Populations in the Galaxy

Two Kinds of Stars

The discovery that there are two different kinds of stars was first made by Walter Baade during World War II. As a German national, Baade was not allowed to do war research as many other U.S.-based scientists were doing, so he was able to make regular use of the Mount Wilson telescopes in southern California. His observations were aided by the darker skies that resulted from the wartime blackout of Los Angeles.

The Real World

With rare exceptions, we should never trust any theory that divides the world into just two categories. While they can provide a starting point for hypotheses and experiments, they are often oversimplifications that need refinement a research continue. The idea of two populations helped organize our initial thoughts about the Galaxy, but we now know it cannot explain everything we observe. Even the different structures of the Galaxy—disk, halo, central bulge—are not so cleanly separated in terms of their locations, ages, and the heavy element content of the stars within them.

The Formation of the Galaxy

The Protogalactic Cloud and the Monolithic Collapse Model

Because the oldest stars—those in the halo and in globular clusters—are distributed in a sphere centered on the nucleus of the Galaxy, it makes sense to assume that the *protogalactic* cloud that gave birth to our Galaxy was roughly spherical. The oldest stars in the halo have ages of 12 to 13 billion years, so we estimate that the formation of the Galaxy began about that long ago. (See the chapter on The Big Bang for other evidence that galaxies in general began forming a little more than 13 billion years ago.) Then, just as in the case of star formation, the protogalactic cloud collapsed and formed a thin rotating disk. Stars born before the cloud collapsed did not participate in the collapse, but have continued to orbit in the halo to the present day ([link]).

Collision Victims and the Multiple Merger Model

In past decades, astronomers have learned that the evolution of the Galaxy has not been quite as peaceful as this monolithic collapse model suggests. In 1994, astronomers discovered a small new galaxy in the direction of the constellation of Sagittarius. The Sagittarius dwarf galaxy is currently about 70,000 light-years away from Earth and 50,000 light-years from the center of the Galaxy. It is the closest galaxy known ([link]). It is very elongated, and its shape indicates that it is being torn apart by our Galaxy’s gravitational tides—just as Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 was torn apart when it passed too close to Jupiter in 1992.

Galaxies

Thinking Ahead

The Discovery of Galaxies

Other Galaxies

By the early twentieth century, some nebulae had been correctly identified as star clusters, and others (such as the Orion Nebula) as gaseous nebulae. Most nebulae, however, looked faint and indistinct, even with the best telescopes, and their distances remained unknown. (For more on how such nebulae are named, by the way, see the feature box on Naming the Nebulae in the chapter on interstellar matter.) If these nebulae were nearby, with distances comparable to those of observable stars, they were most likely clouds of gas or groups of stars within our Galaxy. If, on the other hand, they were remote, far beyond the edge of the Galaxy, they could be other star systems containing billions of stars.

Types of Galaxies

Spiral Galaxies

Our own Galaxy and the Andromeda galaxy are typical, large spiral galaxies (see [link]). They consist of a central bulge, a halo, a disk, and spiral arms. Interstellar material is usually spread throughout the disks of spiral galaxies. Bright emission nebulae and hot, young stars are present, especially in the spiral arms, showing that new star formation is still occurring. The disks are often dusty, which is especially noticeable in those systems that we view almost edge on ([link]).

Elliptical Galaxies

Elliptical galaxies consist almost entirely of old stars and have shapes that are spheres or ellipsoids (somewhat squashed spheres) ([link]). They contain no trace of spiral arms. Their light is dominated by older reddish stars (the population II stars discussed in The Milky Way Galaxy). In the larger nearby ellipticals, many globular clusters can be identified. Dust and emission nebulae are not conspicuous in elliptical galaxies, but many do contain a small amount of interstellar matter.

Irregular Galaxies

Hubble classified galaxies that do not have the regular shapes associated with the categories we just described into the catchall bin of an irregular galaxy, and we continue to use his term. Typically, irregular galaxies have lower masses and luminosities than spiral galaxies. Irregular galaxies often appear disorganized, and many are undergoing relatively intense star formation activity. They contain both young population I stars and old population II stars.

Galaxy Evolution

Encouraged by the success of the H-R diagram for stars (see Analyzing Starlight), astronomers studying galaxies hoped to find some sort of comparable scheme, where differences in appearance could be tied to different evolutionary stages in the life of galaxies. Wouldn’t it be nice if every elliptical galaxy evolved into a spiral, for example, just as every main-sequence star evolves into a red giant? Several simple ideas of this kind were tried, some by Hubble himself, but none stood the test of time (and observation).

Properties of Galaxies

Masses of Galaxies

Astronomers can measure the rotation speed in spiral galaxies by obtaining spectra of either stars or gas, and looking for wavelength shifts produced by the Doppler effect. Remember that the faster something is moving toward or away from us, the greater the shift of the lines in its spectrum. Kepler’s law, together with such observations of the part of the Andromeda galaxy that is bright in visible light, for example, show it to have a galactic mass of about $4×{10}^{11}$ *M*Sun (enough material to make 400 billion stars like the Sun).

Mass-to-Light Ratio

A useful way of characterizing a galaxy is by noting the ratio of its mass (in units of the Sun’s mass) to its light output (in units of the Sun’s luminosity). This single number tells us roughly what kind of stars make up most of the luminous population of the galaxy, and it also tells us whether a lot of dark matter is present. For stars like the Sun, the mass-to-light ratio is 1 by our definition.

The Extragalactic Distance Scale

Variable Stars

Before astronomers could measure distances to other galaxies, they first had to establish the scale of cosmic distances using objects in our own Galaxy. We described the chain of these distance methods in Celestial Distances (and we recommend that you review that chapter if it has been a while since you’ve read it). Astronomers were especially delighted when they discovered that they could measure distances using certain kinds of intrinsically luminous *variable stars*, such as cepheids, which can be seen at very large distances ([link]).

Standard Bulbs

We discussed in Celestial Distances the great frustration that astronomers felt when they realized that the stars in general were not standard *bulbs*. If every light bulb in a huge auditorium is a standard 100-watt bulb, then bulbs that look brighter to us must be closer, whereas those that look dimmer must be farther away. If every star were a standard luminosity (or wattage), then we could similarly “read off” their distances based on how bright they appear to us. Alas, as we have learned, neither stars nor galaxies come in one standard-issue luminosity. Nonetheless, astronomers have been searching for objects out there that do act in some way like a standard bulb—that have the same intrinsic (built-in) brightness wherever they are.

Other Measuring Techniques

Another technique for measuring galactic distances makes use of an interesting relationship noticed in the late 1970s by Brent Tully of the University of Hawaii and Richard Fisher of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory. They discovered that the luminosity of a spiral galaxy is related to its rotational velocity (how fast it spins). Why would this be true?

The Expanding Universe

Slipher’s Pioneering Observations

Curiously, the discovery of the expansion of the universe began with the search for Martians and other solar systems. In 1894, the controversial (and wealthy) astronomer Percival Lowell established an observatory in Flagstaff, Arizona, to study the planets and search for life in the universe. Lowell thought that the spiral nebulae might be solar systems in the process of formation. He therefore asked one of the observatory’s young astronomers, Vesto M. Slipher ([link]), to photograph the spectra of some of the spiral nebulae to see if their spectral lines might show chemical compositions like those expected for newly forming planets.

Hubble’s Law

The profound implications of Slipher’s work became apparent only during the 1920s. Georges Lemaître was a Belgian priest and a trained astronomer. In 1927, he published a paper in French in an obscure Belgian journal in which he suggested that we live in an expanding universe. The title of the paper (translated into English) is “A Homogenous Universe of Constant Mass and Growing Radius Accounting for the Radial Velocity of Extragalactic Nebulae.” Lemaître had discovered that Einstein’s equations of relativity were consistent with an expanding universe (as had the Russian scientist Alexander Friedmann independently in 1922). Lemaître then went on to use Slipher’s data to support the hypothesis that the universe actually is expanding and to estimate the rate of expansion. Initially, scientists paid little attention to this paper, perhaps because the Belgian journal was not widely available.

Hubble’s Law and Distances

The regularity expressed in Hubble’s law has a built-in bonus: it gives us a new way to determine the distances to remote galaxies. First, we must reliably establish Hubble’s constant by measuring both the distance and the velocity of many galaxies in many directions to be sure Hubble’s law is truly a universal property of galaxies. But once we have calculated the value of this constant and are satisfied that it applies everywhere, much more of the universe opens up for distance determination. Basically, if we can obtain a spectrum of a galaxy, we can immediately tell how far away it is.

Variation of Hubble’s Constant

The use of redshift is potentially a very important technique for determining distances because as we have seen, most of our methods for determining galaxy distances are limited to approximately the nearest few hundred million light-years (and they have large uncertainties at these distances). The use of Hubble’s law as a distance indicator requires only a spectrum of a galaxy and a measurement of the Doppler shift, and with large telescopes and modern spectrographs, spectra can be taken of extremely faint galaxies.

Models for an Expanding Universe

At first, thinking about Hubble’s law and being a fan of the work of Copernicus and Harlow Shapley, you might be shocked. Are all the galaxies really moving *away from us*? Is there, after all, something special about our position in the universe? Worry not; the fact that galaxies are receding from us and that more distant galaxies are moving away more rapidly than nearby ones shows only that the universe is expanding uniformly.

Active Galaxies, Quasars, and Supermassive Black Holes

Thinking Ahead

Quasars

Redshifts: The Key to Quasars

The answer came when astronomers obtained visible-light spectra of two of those faint “blue stars” that were strong sources of radio waves ([link]). Spectra of these radio “stars” only deepened the mystery: they had emission lines, but astronomers at first could not identify them with any known substance. By the 1960s, astronomers had a century of experience in identifying elements and compounds in the spectra of stars. Elaborate tables had been published showing the lines that each element would produce under a wide range of conditions. A “star” with unidentifiable lines in the ordinary visible light spectrum had to be something completely new.

Quasars Obey the Hubble Law

The first question astronomers asked was whether quasars obeyed the Hubble law and were really at the large distances implied by their redshifts. If they did not obey the rule that large redshift means large distance, then they could be much closer, and their luminosity could be a lot less. One straightforward way to show that quasars had to obey the Hubble law was to demonstrate that they were actually part of galaxies, and that their redshift was the same as the galaxy that hosted them. Since ordinary galaxies *do* obey the Hubble law, anything within them would be subject to the same rules.

The Size of the Energy Source

Given their large distances, quasars have to be extremely luminous to be visible to us at all—far brighter than any normal galaxy. In visible light alone, most are far more energetic than the brightest elliptical galaxies. But, as we saw, quasars also emit energy at X-ray and ultraviolet wavelengths, and some are radio sources as well. When all their radiation is added together, some QSOs have total luminosities as large as a hundred trillion Suns (1014 *L*Sun), which is 10 to 100 times the brightness of luminous elliptical galaxies.

Earlier Evidence

Even before the discovery of quasars, there had been hints that something very strange was going on in the centers of at least some galaxies. Back in 1918, American astronomer Heber Curtis used the large Lick Observatory telescope to photograph the galaxy Messier 87 in the constellation Virgo. On that photograph, he saw what we now call a jet coming from the center, or nucleus, of the galaxy ([link]). This jet literally and figuratively pointed to some strange activity going on in that galaxy nucleus. But he had no idea what it was. No one else knew what to do with this space oddity either.

Supermassive Black Holes: What Quasars Really Are

Observational Evidence for Black Holes

In order to prove that a black hole is present at the center of a galaxy, we must demonstrate that so much mass is crammed into so small a volume that no normal objects—massive stars or clusters of stars—could possibly account for it (just as we did for the black hole in the Milky Way). We already know from observations (discussed in Black Holes and Curved Spacetime) that an accreting black hole is surrounded by a hot *accretion disk* with gas and dust that swirl around the black hole before it falls in.

Energy Production around a Black Hole

By now, you may be willing to entertain the idea that huge black holes lurk at the centers of active galaxies. But we still need to answer the question of how such a black hole can account for one of the most powerful sources of energy in the universe. As we saw in Black Holes and Curved Spacetime, a black hole itself can radiate no energy. Any energy we detect from it must come from material very close to the black hole, but not inside its event horizon.

Radio Jets

So far, our model seems to explain the central energy source in quasars and active galaxies. But, as we have seen, there is more to quasars and other active galaxies than the point-like energy source. They can also have long jets that glow with radio waves, light, and sometimes even X-rays, and that extend far beyond the limits of the parent galaxy. Can we find a way for our black hole and its accretion disk to produce these jets of energetic particles as well?

Quasars as Probes of Evolution in the Universe

The Evolution of Quasars

Quasars provide compelling evidence that we live in an evolving universe—one that changes with time. They tell us that astronomers living billions of years ago would have seen a universe that is very different from the universe of today. Counts of the number of quasars at different redshifts (and thus at different times in the evolution of the universe) show us how dramatic these changes are ([link]). We now know that the number of quasars was greatest at the time when the universe was only 20% of its present age.

Codependence of Black Holes and Galaxies

Once black hole masses began to be measured reliably in the late 1990s, they posed an enigma. It looked as though the mass of the central black hole depended on the mass of the galaxy. The black holes in galaxies always seem to be just 1/200 the mass of the galaxy they live in. This result is shown schematically in [link], and some of the observations are plotted in [link].

How a Galaxy Can Influence a Black Hole in Its Center

Let’s look first at how the surrounding galaxy might influence the growth and size of the black hole. Without large quantities of fresh “food,” the surroundings of black holes glow only weakly as bits of local material spiral inward toward the black hole. So somehow large amounts of gas have to find their way to the black hole from the galaxy in order to feed the quasar and make it grow and give off the energy to be noticed. Where does this “food” for the black hole come from originally and how might it be replenished? The jury is still out, but the options are pretty clear.

How Does the Black Hole Influence the Formation of Stars in the Galaxy?

We have seen that the material in galaxies can influence the growth of the black hole. The black hole in turn can also influence the galaxy in which it resides. It can do so in three ways: through its jets, through winds of particles that manage to stream away from the accretion disk, and through radiation from the accretion disk. As they stream away from the black hole, all three can either promote star formation by compressing the surrounding gas and dust—or instead suppress star formation by heating the surrounding gas and shredding molecular clouds, thereby inhibiting or preventing star formation. The outflowing energy can even be enough to halt the accretion of new material and starve the black hole of fuel. Astronomers are still trying to evaluate the relative importance of these effects in determining the overall evolution of galactic bulges and the rates of star formation.

The Birth of Black Holes and Galaxies

While the connection between quasars and galaxies is increasingly clear, the biggest puzzle of all—namely, how the supermassive black holes in galaxies got started—remains unsolved. Observations show that they existed when the universe was very young. One dramatic example is the discovery of a quasar that was already shining when the universe was only 700 million years old. What does it take to create a large black hole so quickly? A related problem is that in order to eventually build black holes containing more than 2 billion solar masses, it is necessary to have giant “seed” black holes with masses at least 2000 times the mass of the Sun—and they must somehow have been created shortly after the expansion of the universe began.

The Evolution and Distribution of Galaxies

Thinking Ahead

Observations of Distant Galaxies

Spectra, Colors, and Shapes

Astronomy is one of the few sciences in which all measurements must be made at a distance. Geologists can take samples of the objects they are studying; chemists can conduct experiments in their laboratories to determine what a substance is made of; archeologists can use carbon dating to determine how old something is. But astronomers can’t pick up and play with a star or galaxy. As we have seen throughout this book, if they want to know what galaxies are made of and how they have changed over the lifetime of the universe, they must decode the messages carried by the small number of photons that reach Earth.

The First Generation of Stars

In addition to looking at the most distant galaxies we can find, astronomers look at the oldest stars (what we might call the fossil record) of our own Galaxy to probe what happened in the early universe. Since stars are the source of nearly all the light emitted by galaxies, we can learn a lot about the evolution of galaxies by studying the stars within them. What we find is that nearly all galaxies contain at least some very old stars. For example, our own Galaxy contains globular clusters with stars that are at least 13 billion years old, and some may be even older than that. Therefore, if we count the age of the Milky Way as the age of its oldest constituents, the Milky Way must have been born at least 13 billion years ago.

A Changing Universe of Galaxies

Back in the middle decades of the twentieth century, the observation that all galaxies contain some old stars led astronomers to the hypothesis that galaxies were born fully formed near the time when the universe began its expansion. This hypothesis was similar to suggesting that human beings were born as adults and did not have to pass through the various stages of development from infancy through the teens. If this hypothesis were correct, the most distant galaxies should have shapes and sizes very much like the galaxies we see nearby. According to this old view, galaxies, after they formed, should then change only slowly, as successive generations of stars within them formed, evolved, and died. As the interstellar matter was slowly used up and fewer new stars formed, the galaxies would gradually become dominated by fainter, older stars and look dimmer and dimmer.

Galaxy Mergers and Active Galactic Nuclei

Mergers and Cannibalism

[link] shows a dynamic view of two galaxies that are colliding. The stars themselves in this pair of galaxies will not be affected much by this cataclysmic event. (See the Astronomy Basics feature box Why Galaxies Collide but Stars Rarely Do.) Since there is a lot of space between the stars, a direct collision between two stars is very unlikely. However, the *orbits* of many of the stars will be changed as the two galaxies move through each other, and the change in orbits can totally alter the appearance of the interacting galaxies. A gallery of interesting colliding galaxies is shown in [link]. Great rings, huge tendrils of stars and gas, and other complex structures can form in such cosmic collisions. Indeed, these strange shapes are the signposts that astronomers use to identify colliding galaxies.

Active Galactic Nuclei and Galaxy Evolution

While galaxy mergers are huge, splashy events that completely reshape entire galaxies on scales of hundreds of thousands of light-years and can spark massive bursts of star formation, accreting black holes inside galaxies can also disturb and alter the evolution of their host galaxies. You learned in Active Galaxies, Quasars, and Supermassive Black Holes about a family of objects known as *active galactic nuclei* (AGN), all of them powered by supermassive black holes. If the black hole is surrounded by enough gas, some of the gas can fall into the black hole, getting swept up on the way into an accretion disk, a compact, swirling maelstrom perhaps only 100 AU across (the size of our solar system).

The Distribution of Galaxies in Space

The Cosmological Principle

Hubble made his observations with what were then the world’s largest telescopes—the 100-inch and 60-inch reflectors on Mount Wilson. These telescopes have small fields of view: they can see only a small part of the heavens at a time. To photograph the entire sky with the 100-inch telescope, for example, would have taken longer than a human lifetime. So instead, Hubble sampled the sky in many regions, much as Herschel did with his star gauging (see The Architecture of the Galaxy). In the 1930s, Hubble photographed 1283 sample areas, and on each print, he carefully counted the numbers of galaxy images ([link]).

The Local Group

The region of the universe for which we have the most detailed information is, as you would expect, our own local neighborhood. It turns out that the Milky Way Galaxy is a member of a small group of galaxies called, not too imaginatively, the Local Group. It is spread over about 3 million light-years and contains 60 or so members. There are three large spiral galaxies (our own, the Andromeda galaxy, and M33), two intermediate ellipticals, and many dwarf ellipticals and irregular galaxies.

Neighboring Groups and Clusters

Small galaxy groups like ours are hard to notice at larger distances. However, there are much more substantial groups called galaxy clusters that are easier to spot even many millions of light-years away. Such clusters are described as *poor* or *rich* depending on how many galaxies they contain. Rich clusters have thousands or even tens of thousands of galaxies, although many of the galaxies are quite faint and hard to detect.

Superclusters and Voids

After astronomers discovered clusters of galaxies, they naturally wondered whether there were still larger structures in the universe. Do clusters of galaxies gather together? To answer this question, we must be able to map large parts of the universe in three dimensions. We must know not only the position of each galaxy on the sky (that’s two dimensions) but also its distance from us (the third dimension).

The Challenge of Dark Matter

Dark Matter in the Local Neighborhood

Is there dark matter in our own solar system? Astronomers have examined the orbits of the known planets and of spacecraft as they journey to the outer planets and beyond. No deviations have been found from the orbits predicted on the basis of the masses of objects already discovered in our solar system and the theory of gravity. We therefore conclude that there is no evidence that there are large amounts of dark matter nearby.

Dark Matter in and around Galaxies

In contrast to our local neighborhood near the Sun and solar system, there is (as we saw in The Milky Way Galaxy) ample evidence strongly suggesting that about 90% of the mass in the entire galaxy is in the form of a halo of dark matter. In other words, there is apparently about nine times more dark matter than visible matter. Astronomers have found some stars in the outer regions of the Milky Way beyond its bright disk, and these stars are revolving very rapidly around its center. The mass contained in all the stars and all the interstellar matter we can detect in the galaxy does not exert enough gravitational force to explain how those fast-moving stars remain in their orbits and do not fly away. Only by having large amounts of unseen matter could the galaxy be holding on to those fast-moving outer stars. The same result is found for other spiral galaxies as well.

Dark Matter in Clusters of Galaxies

Galaxies in clusters also move around: they orbit the cluster’s center of mass. It is not possible for us to follow a galaxy around its entire orbit because that typically takes about a billion years. It is possible, however, to measure the velocities with which galaxies in a cluster are moving, and then estimate what the total mass in the cluster must be to keep the individual galaxies from flying out of the cluster. The observations indicate that the mass of the galaxies alone cannot keep the cluster together—some other gravity must again be present. The total amount of dark matter in clusters exceeds by more than ten times the luminous mass contained within the galaxies themselves, indicating that dark matter exists between galaxies as well as inside them.

Mass-to-Light Ratio

We described the use of the mass-to-light ratio to characterize the matter in galaxies or clusters of galaxies in Properties of Galaxies. For systems containing mostly old stars, the mass-to-light ratio is typically 10 to 20, where mass and light are measured in units of the Sun’s mass and luminosity. A mass-to-light ratio of 100 or more is a signal that a substantial amount of dark matter is present. [link] summarizes the results of measurements of mass-to-light ratios for various classes of objects. Very large mass-to-light ratios are found for all systems of galaxy size and larger, indicating that dark matter is present in all these types of objects. This is why we say that dark matter apparently makes up most of the total mass of the universe.

What Is the Dark Matter?

How do we go about figuring out what the dark matter consists of? The technique we might use depends on its composition. Let’s consider the possibility that some of the dark matter is made up of normal particles: protons, neutrons, and electrons. Suppose these particles were assembled into black holes, brown dwarfs, or white dwarfs. If the black holes had no accretion disks, they would be invisible to us. White and brown dwarfs do emit some radiation but have such low luminosities that they cannot be seen at distances greater than a few thousand light-years.

The Formation and Evolution of Galaxies and Structure in the Universe

How Galaxies Form and Grow

We’ve already seen that galaxies were more numerous, but smaller, bluer, and clumpier, in the distant past than they are today, and that galaxy mergers play a significant role in their evolution. At the same time, we have observed quasars and galaxies that emitted their light when the universe was less than a billion years old—so we know that large condensations of matter had begun to form at least that early. We also saw in Active Galaxies, Quasars, and Supermassive Black Holes that many quasars are found in the centers of elliptical galaxies. This means that some of the first large concentrations of matter must have evolved into the elliptical galaxies that we see in today’s universe. It seems likely that the supermassive black holes in the centers of galaxies and the spherical distribution of ordinary matter around them formed at the same time and through related physical processes.

Forming Galaxy Clusters, Superclusters, Voids, and Filaments

If individual galaxies seem to grow mostly by assembling smaller pieces together gravitationally over cosmic time, what about the clusters of galaxies and larger structures such as those seen in [link]? How do we explain the large-scale maps that show galaxies distributed on the walls of huge sponge- or bubble-like structures spanning hundreds of millions of light-years?

The Big Picture

To finish this chapter, let’s put all these ideas together to tell a coherent story of how the universe came to look the way it does. Initially, as we said, the distribution of matter (both luminous and dark) was nearly, but not quite exactly, smooth and uniform. That “not quite” is the key to everything. Here and there were lumps where the density of matter (both luminous and dark) was ever so slightly higher than average.

The Big Bang

Thinking Ahead

The Age of the Universe

The Hubble Time

If we had a movie of the expanding universe and ran the film *backward*, what would we see? The galaxies, instead of moving apart, would move *together* in our movie—getting closer and closer all the time. Eventually, we would find that all the matter we can see today was once concentrated in an infinitesimally small volume. Astronomers identify this time with the *beginning of the universe*. The explosion of that concentrated universe at the beginning of time is called the Big Bang (not a bad term, since you can’t have a bigger bang than one that creates the entire universe). But when did this bang occur?

The Role of Deceleration

The Hubble time is the right age for the universe only if the expansion rate has been constant throughout the time since the expansion of the universe began. Continuing with our end-of-the-semester-party analogy, this is equivalent to assuming that you traveled home from the party at a constant rate, when in fact this may not have been the case. At first, mad about having to leave, you may have driven fast, but then as you calmed down—and thought about police cars on the highway—you may have begun to slow down until you were driving at a more socially acceptable speed (such as 80 kilometers/hour). In this case, given that you were driving faster at the beginning, the trip home would have taken less than a half-hour.

A Universal Acceleration

Astronomers spent several decades looking for evidence that the expansion was decelerating, but they were not successful. What they needed were 1) larger telescopes so that they could measure the redshifts of more distant galaxies and 2) a very luminous *standard bulb* (or standard candle), that is, some astronomical object with known luminosity that produces an enormous amount of energy and can be observed at distances of a billion light-years or more.

Comparing Ages

We now have one estimate for the age of the universe from its expansion. Is this estimate consistent with other observations? For example, are the oldest stars or other astronomical objects younger than 13.8 billion years? After all, the universe has to be at least as old as the oldest objects in it.

A Model of the Universe

The Expanding Universe

Every model of the universe must include the expansion we observe. Another key element of the models is that the cosmological principle (which we discussed in The Evolution and Distribution of Galaxies) is valid: on the large scale, the universe at any given time is the same everywhere (homogeneous and isotropic). As a result, the expansion rate must be the same everywhere during any epoch of cosmic time. If so, we don’t need to think about the entire universe when we think about the expansion, we can just look at any sufficiently large portion of it. (Some models for dark energy would allow the expansion rate to be different in different directions, and scientists are designing experiments to test this idea. However, until such evidence is found, we will assume that the cosmological principle applies throughout the universe.)

Models of the Expansion

Before astronomers knew about dark energy or had a good measurement of how much matter exists in the universe, they made speculative models about how the universe might evolve over time. The four possible scenarios are shown in [link]. In this diagram, time moves forward from the bottom upward, and the scale of space increases by the horizontal circles becoming wider.

The Cosmic Tug of War

We might summarize our discussion so far by saying that a “tug of war” is going on in the universe between the forces that push everything apart and the gravitational attraction of matter, which pulls everything together. If we can determine who will win this tug of war, we will learn the ultimate fate of the universe.

Ages of Distant Galaxies

In the chapter on Galaxies, we discussed how we can use Hubble’s law to measure the distance to a galaxy. But that simple method only works with galaxies that are not too far away. Once we get to large distances, we are looking so far into the past that we must take into account changes in the rate of the expansion of the universe. Since we cannot measure these changes directly, we must assume one of the models of the universe to be able to convert large redshifts into distances.

The Beginning of the Universe

The History of the Idea

It is one thing to say the universe had a beginning (as the equations of general relativity imply) and quite another to describe that beginning. The Belgian priest and cosmologist Georges Lemaître was probably the first to propose a specific model for the Big Bang itself ([link]). He envisioned all the matter of the universe starting in one great bulk he called the *primeval atom*, which then broke into tremendous numbers of pieces. Each of these pieces continued to fragment further until they became the present atoms of the universe, created in a vast nuclear fission. In a popular account of his theory, Lemaître wrote, “The evolution of the world could be compared to a display of fireworks just ended—some few red wisps, ashes, and smoke. Standing on a well-cooled cinder, we see the slow fading of the suns and we try to recall the vanished brilliance of the origin of the worlds.”

The First Few Minutes

Let’s start with the first few minutes following the Big Bang. Three basic ideas hold the key to tracing the changes that occurred during the time just after the universe began. The first, as we have already mentioned, is that the universe cools as it expands. [link] shows how the temperature changes with the passage of time. Note that a huge span of time, from a tiny fraction of a second to billions of years, is summarized in this diagram. In the first fraction of a second, the universe was unimaginably hot. By the time 0.01 second had elapsed, the temperature had dropped to 100 billion (1011) K. After about 3 minutes, it had fallen to about 1 billion (109) K, still some 70 times hotter than the interior of the Sun. After a few hundred thousand years, the temperature was down to a mere 3000 K, and the universe has continued to cool since that time.

The Evolution of the Early Universe

Keeping these three ideas in mind, we can trace the evolution of the universe from the time it was about 0.01 second old and had a temperature of about 100 billion K. Why not begin at the very beginning? There are as yet no theories that allow us penetrate to a time before about 10–43 second (this number is a decimal point followed by 42 zeros and then a one). It is so small that we cannot relate it to anything in our everyday experience. When the universe was that young, its density was so high that the theory of general relativity is not adequate to describe it, and even the concept of time breaks down.

Atomic Nuclei Form

When the universe was about 3 minutes old and its temperature was down to about 900 million K, protons and neutrons could combine. At higher temperatures, these atomic nuclei had immediately been blasted apart by interactions with high-energy photons and thus could not survive. But at the temperatures and densities reached between 3 and 4 minutes after the beginning, deuterium (a proton and neutron) lasted long enough that collisions could convert some of it into helium, ([link]). In essence, the entire universe was acting the way centers of stars do today—fusing new elements from simpler components. In addition, a little bit of element 3, lithium, could also form.

Learning from Deuterium

We can learn many things from the way the early universe made atomic nuclei. It turns out that all of the deuterium (a hydrogen nucleus with a neutron in it) in the universe was formed during the first 4 minutes. In stars, any region hot enough to fuse two protons to form a deuterium nucleus is also hot enough to change it further—either by destroying it through a collision with an energetic photon or by converting it into helium through nuclear reactions.

The Cosmic Microwave Background

The Universe Becomes Transparent

Not until a few hundred thousand years after the Big Bang, when the temperature had dropped to about 3000 K and the density of atomic nuclei to about 1000 per cubic centimeter, did the electrons and nuclei manage to combine to form stable atoms of hydrogen and helium ([link]). With no free electrons to scatter photons, the universe became transparent for the first time in cosmic history. From this point on, matter and radiation interacted much less frequently; we say that they *decoupled* from each other and evolved separately. Suddenly, electromagnetic radiation could really travel, and it has been traveling through the universe ever since.

Discovery of the Cosmic Background Radiation

If the model of the universe described in the previous section is correct, then—as we look far outward in the universe and thus far back in time—the first “afterglow” of the hot, early universe should still be detectable. Observations of it would be very strong evidence that our theoretical calculations about how the universe evolved are correct. As we shall see, we have indeed detected the radiation emitted at this photon decoupling time, when radiation began to stream freely through the universe without interacting with matter ([link]).

Properties of the Cosmic Microwave Background

One issue that worried astronomers is that Penzias and Wilson were measuring the background radiation filling space through Earth’s atmosphere. What if that atmosphere is a source of radio waves or somehow affected their measurements? It would be better to measure something this important from space.

Small Differences in the CMB

It was known even before the launch of COBE that the CMB is extremely *isotropic*. In fact, its uniformity in every direction is one of the best confirmations of the cosmological principle— that the universe is homogenous and isotropic.

What Is the Universe Really Made Of?

What Is Dark Matter?

Many astronomers find the situation we have described very satisfying. Several independent experiments now agree on the type of universe we live in and on the inventory of what it contains. We seem to be very close to having a cosmological model that explains nearly everything. Others are not yet ready to jump on the bandwagon. They say, “show me the 96% of the universe we can’t detect directly—for example, find me some dark matter!”

Dark Matter and the Formation of Galaxies

As elusive as dark matter may be in the current-day universe, galaxies could not have formed quickly without it. Galaxies grew from density fluctuations in the early universe, and some had already formed only about 400–500 million years after the Big Bang. The observations with WMAP, Planck, and other experiments give us information on the size of those density fluctuations. It turns out that the density variations we observe are too small to have formed galaxies so soon after the Big Bang. In the hot, early universe, energetic photons collided with hydrogen and helium, and kept them moving so rapidly that gravity was still not strong enough to cause the atoms to come together to form galaxies. How can we reconcile this with the fact that galaxies *did* form and are all around us?

The Universe in a Nutshell

In the previous sections of this chapter, we traced the evolution of the universe progressively further back in time. Astronomical discovery has followed this path historically, as new instruments and new techniques have allowed us to probe ever closer to the beginning of time. The rate of expansion of the universe was determined from measurements of nearby galaxies. Determinations of the abundances of deuterium, helium, and lithium based on nearby stars and galaxies were used to put limits on how much ordinary matter is in the universe. The motions of stars in galaxies and of galaxies within clusters of galaxies could only be explained if there were large quantities of dark matter. Measurements of supernovae that exploded when the universe was about half as old as it is now indicated that the rate of expansion of the universe has sped up since those explosions occurred. Observations of extremely faint galaxies show that galaxies had begun to form when the universe was only 400–500 million years old. And observations of the CMB confirmed early theories that the universe was initially very hot.

The Inflationary Universe

Problems with the Standard Big Bang Model

There are a number of characteristics of the universe that can only be explained by considering further what might have happened before the emission of the CMB. One problem with the standard Big Bang model is that it does not explain why the density of the universe is equal to the critical density. The mass density could have been, after all, so low and the effects of dark energy so high that the expansion would have been too rapid to form any galaxies at all. Alternatively, there could have been so much matter that the universe would have already begun to contract long before now. Why is the universe balanced so precisely on the knife edge of the critical density?

The Inflationary Hypothesis

Some physicists suggested that these fundamental characteristics of the cosmos—its flatness and uniformity—can be explained if shortly after the Big Bang (and before the emission of the CMB), the universe experienced a sudden increase in size. A model universe in which this rapid, early expansion occurs is called an inflationary universe. The inflationary universe is identical to the Big Bang universe for all time after the first 10–30 second. Prior to that, the model suggests that there was a brief period of extraordinarily rapid expansion or inflation, during which the scale of the universe increased by a factor of about 1030 times more than predicted by standard Big Bang models ([link]).

Grand Unified Theories

While inflation is an intriguing idea and widely accepted by researchers, we cannot directly observe events so early in the universe. The conditions at the time of inflation were so extreme that we cannot reproduce them in our laboratories or high-energy accelerators, but scientists have some ideas about what the universe might have been like. These ideas are called grand unified theories or GUTs.

The Anthropic Principle

Lucky Accidents

As we described in this chapter, the CMB is radiation that was emitted when the universe was a few hundred thousand years old. Observations show that the temperature of the radiation varies from one region to another, typically by about 10 millionths of a degree, and these temperature differences signal small differences in density. But suppose the tiny, early fluctuations in density had been much smaller. Then calculations show that the pull of gravity near them would have been so small that no galaxies would ever have formed.

What Had to Be, Had to Be

In summary, we see that a specific set of rules and conditions in the universe has allowed complexity and life on Earth to develop. As yet, we have no theory to explain why this “right” set of conditions occurred. For this reason, many scientists are beginning to accept an idea we call the anthropic principle—namely, that the physical laws we observe must be what they are precisely because these are the only laws that allow for the existence of humans.

Life in the Universe

Thinking Ahead

The Cosmic Context for Life

What Made Earth Hospitable to Life?

About 5 billion years ago, a cloud of gas and dust in this cosmic neighborhood began to collapse under its own weight. Out of this cloud formed the Sun and its planets, together with all the smaller bodies, such as comets, that also orbit the Sun ([link]). The third planet from the Sun, as it cooled, eventually allowed the formation of large quantities of liquid water on its surface.

The Copernican Principle

Our study of astronomy has taught us that we have always been wrong in the past whenever we have claimed that Earth is somehow unique. Galileo, using the newly invented technology of the telescope, showed us that Earth is not the center of the solar system, but merely one of a number of objects orbiting the Sun. Our study of the stars has demonstrated that the Sun itself is a rather undistinguished star, halfway through its long main-sequence stage like so many billions of others. There seems nothing special about our position in the Milky Way Galaxy either, and nothing surprising about our Galaxy’s position in either its own group or its supercluster.

So Where Are They?

If the Copernican principle is applied to life, then biology may be rather common among planets. Taken to its logical limit, the Copernican principle also suggests that intelligent life like us might be common. Intelligence like ours has some very special properties, including an ability to make progress through the application of technology. Organic life around other (older) stars may have started a billion years earlier than we did on Earth, so they may have had a lot more time to develop advanced technology such as sending information, probes, or even life-forms between stars.

Astrobiology

The Building Blocks of Life

While no unambiguous evidence for life has yet been found anywhere beyond Earth, life’s chemical building blocks have been detected in a wide range of extraterrestrial environments. Meteorites (which you learned about in Cosmic Samples and the Origin of the Solar System) have been found to contain two kinds of substances whose chemical structures mark them as having an extraterrestrial origin—amino acids and sugars. Amino acids are organic compounds that are the molecular building blocks of proteins. Proteins are key biological molecules that provide the structure and function of the body’s tissues and organs and essentially carry out the “work” of the cell. When we examine the gas and dust around comets, we also find a number of organic molecules—compounds that on Earth are associated with the chemistry of life.

The Origin and Early Evolution of Life

The carbon compounds that form the chemical basis of life may be common in the universe, but it is still a giant step from these building blocks to a living cell. Even the simplest molecules of the genes (the basic functional units that carry the genetic, or hereditary, material in a cell) contain millions of molecular units, each arranged in a precise sequence. Furthermore, even the most primitive life required two special capabilities: a means of extracting energy from its environment, and a means of encoding and replicating information in order to make faithful copies of itself. Biologists today can see ways that either of these capabilities might have formed in a natural environment, but we are still a long way from knowing how the two came together in the first life-forms.

Habitable Environments

Among the staggering number of objects in our solar system, Galaxy, and universe, some may have conditions suitable for life, while others do not. Understanding what conditions and features make a habitable environment—an environment capable of hosting life—is important both for understanding how widespread habitable environments may be in the universe and for focusing a search for life beyond Earth. Here, we discuss habitability from the perspective of the life we know. We will explore the basic requirements of life and, in the following section, consider the full range of environmental conditions on Earth where life is found. While we can’t entirely rule out the possibility that other life-forms might have biochemistry based on alternatives to carbon and liquid water, such life “as we don’t know it” is still completely speculative. In our discussion here, we are focusing on habitability for life that is chemically similar to that on Earth.

Life in Extreme Conditions

At a chemical level, life consists of many types of molecules that interact with one another to carry out the processes of life. In addition to water, elemental raw materials, and energy, life also needs an environment in which those complicated molecules are stable (don’t break down before they can do their jobs) and their interactions are possible. Your own biochemistry works properly only within a very narrow range of about 10 °C in body temperature and two-tenths of a unit in blood pH (pH is a numerical measure of acidity, or the amount of free hydrogen ions). Beyond those limits, you are in serious danger.

Searching for Life beyond Earth

Life on Mars

The possibility that Mars hosts, or has hosted, life has a rich history dating back to the “canals” that some people claimed to see on the martian surface toward the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth. With the dawn of the space age came the possibility to address this question up close through a progression of missions to Mars that began with the first successful flyby of a robotic spacecraft in 1964 and have led to the deployment of capable rovers, like *Curiosity* and *Perseverance*, with instruments to look for organic chemistry.

Life in the Outer Solar System

The massive gas and ice giant planets of the outer solar system—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune—are almost certainly not habitable for life as we know it, but some of their moons might be (see [link]). Although these worlds in the outer solar system contain abundant water, they receive so little warming sunlight in their distant orbits that it was long believed they would be “geologically dead” balls of hard-frozen ice and rock. But, as we saw in the chapter on Rings, Moons, and Pluto, missions to the outer solar system have found something much more interesting.

Habitable Planets Orbiting Other Stars

One of the most exciting developments in astronomy during the last two decades is the ability to detect exoplanets—planets orbiting other stars. As we saw in the chapter on the formation of stars and planets, since the discovery of the first exoplanet in 1995, there have been thousands of confirmed detections, and many more candidates that are not yet confirmed. These include several dozen possibly habitable exoplanets. Such numbers finally allow us to make some predictions about exoplanets and their life-hosting potential. The majority of stars with mass similar to the Sun appear to host at least one planet, with multi-planet systems like our own not unusual. How many of these planets might be habitable, and how could we search for life there?

Biomarkers

Our observations suggest increasingly that Earth-size planets orbiting within the habitable zone may be common in the Galaxy—current estimates suggest that more than 40% of stars have at least one. But are any of them inhabited? With no ability to send probes there to sample, we will have to derive the answer from the light and other radiation that come to us from these faraway systems ([link]). What types of observations might constitute good evidence for life?

The Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence

Interstellar Travel

Bernard Oliver, an engineer with an abiding interest in life elsewhere, made a revealing calculation about the costs of rapid interstellar space travel. Since we do not know what sort of technology we (or other civilizations) might someday develop, Oliver considered a trip to the nearest star (and back again) in a spaceship with a “perfect engine”—one that would convert its fuel into energy with 100% efficiency. Even with a perfect engine, the energy cost of a single round-trip journey at 70% the speed of light turns out to be equivalent to several hundred thousand years’ worth of total U.S. electrical energy consumption. The cost of such travel is literally out of this world.

Messages on Spacecraft

While space travel by living creatures seems very difficult, robot probes can travel over long distances and over long periods of time. Five spacecraft—two Pioneers, two Voyagers, and New Horizons—are now leaving the solar system. At their coasting speeds, they will take hundreds of thousands or millions of years to get anywhere close to another star. On the other hand, they were the first products of human technology to go beyond our home system, so we wanted to put messages on board to show where they came from.

Communicating with the Stars

If direct visits among stars are unlikely, we must turn to the alternative for making contact: exchanging messages. Here the news is a lot better. We already use a messenger—light or, more generally, electromagnetic waves—that moves through space at the fastest speed in the universe. Traveling at 300,000 kilometers per second, light reaches the nearest star in only 4 years and does so at a tiny fraction of the cost of sending material objects. These advantages are so clear and obvious that we assume they will occur to any other species of intelligent beings that develop technology.

The Cosmic Haystack

Having made the decision that radio is the most likely means of communication among intelligent civilizations, we still have many questions and a daunting task ahead of us. Shall we *send* a message, or try to *receive* one? Obviously, if every civilization decides to receive only, then no one will be sending, and everyone will be disappointed. On the other hand, it may be appropriate for us to *begin* by listening, since we are likely to be among the most primitive civilizations in the Galaxy who are interested in exchanging messages.

Radio Searches

Although the cosmic haystack problem seems daunting, many other research problems in astronomy also require a large investment of time, equipment, and patient effort. And, of course, if we don’t search, we’re sure not to find anything.

SETI outside the Radio Realm

For the reasons discussed above, most SETI programs search for signals at radio wavelengths. But in science, if there are other approaches to answering an unsolved question, we don’t want to neglect them. So astronomers have been thinking about other ways we could pick up evidence for the existence of technologically advanced civilizations.

Should We Transmit in Addition to Listening?

Our planet has some leakage of radio waves into space, from FM radio, television, military radars, and communication between Earth and our orbiting spacecraft. However, such leakage radiation is still quite weak, and therefore difficult to detect at the distances of the stars, at least with the radio technology we have. So at the present time our attempts to communicate with other civilizations that may be out there mostly involve trying to receive messages, but not sending any ourselves.

Conclusion

Whether or not we ultimately turn out to be the only intelligent species in our part of the Galaxy, our exploration of the cosmos will surely continue. An important part of that exploration will still be the search for biomarkers from inhabited planets that have not produced technological creatures that send out radio signals. After all, creatures like butterflies and dolphins may never build radio antennas, but we are happy to share our planet with them and would be delighted to find their counterparts on other worlds.

How to Study for an Introductory Astronomy Class

Astronomy Websites, Images, and Apps

Websites for Exploring Astronomy in General

Selected Websites for Viewing and Downloading Astronomical Images

Astronomy Apps for Smartphones and Tablets

The Best Astronomy Apps for IOS and Android: https://www.digitaltrends.com/mobile/best-astronomy-apps/.

Scientific Notation

Writing Large Numbers

In scientific notation, we generally agree to have only one number to the left of the decimal point. If a number is not in this format, it must be changed. The number 6 is already in the right format, because for integers, we understand there to be a decimal point to the right of them. So 6 is really 6., and there is indeed only one number to the left of the decimal point. But the number 965 (which is 965.) has three numbers to the left of the decimal point, and is thus ripe for conversion.

Writing Small Numbers

Now take a number like 0.00347, which is also not in the standard (agreed-to) form for scientific notation. To put it into that format, we must make the first part of it 3.47 by moving the decimal point three places *to the right*. Note that this motion to the right is the opposite of the motion to the left that we discussed above. To keep track, we call this change negative and put a minus sign in the exponent. Thus 0.00347 becomes 3.47 × 10−3.

Multiplication and Division

Scientific notation is not only compact and convenient, it also simplifies arithmetic. To multiply two numbers expressed as powers of ten, you need only multiply the numbers out front and then *add* the exponents. If there are no numbers out front, as in 100 × 100,000, then you just add the exponents (in our notation, 102 × 105 = 107). When there are numbers out front, you have to multiply them, but they are much easier to deal with than numbers with many zeros in them.

Exercises

Answers

Units Used in Science

Length

The most commonly used quantities of length of the metric system are the following.

Mass

Although we don’t make the distinction very carefully in everyday life on Earth, strictly speaking the kilogram is a unit of mass (measuring the quantity of matter in a body, roughly how many atoms it has,) while the pound is a unit of weight (measuring how strongly Earth’s gravity pulls on a body).

Temperature

Three temperature scales are in general use:

Some Useful Constants for Astronomy

Physical and Orbital Data for the Planets

Selected Moons of the Planets

Future Total Eclipses

Future Total Solar Eclipses

We also include eclipses that are *annular*—where the Moon is directly in front of the Sun, but doesn’t fully cover it—leaving a ring of light around the dark Moon’s edges)

Future Total Lunar Eclipses

Additional Resources

For more information and detailed maps about eclipses, see these resources.

The Nearest Stars, Brown Dwarfs, and White Dwarfs

The Brightest Twenty Stars

The Chemical Elements

The Constellations

Star Chart and Sky Event Resources

Star Charts

To obtain graphic charts of the sky over your head tonight, there are a number of free online resources.

Calendars of Night Sky Events

The following resources offer calendars of night sky events.