This is just an odd little story from my life.
I’ve
had a long interest in space, so when I was a kid my parents got me a small
telescope. It had a tripod, but fully
extended it was only about three feet tall and somewhat wobbly. So I built a desk out of some old 2X4s and
boards that I could set the telescope on.
And I put this and an old lawn chair in my observatory. One of the best places to see the southern
half of the sky was also a direct line of sight to a nearby road. I live in the middle of nowhere, so there isn’t
much traffic, but still I didn’t want to be blinded by someone driving home
late at night. Not to mention the
outside lights our neighbors had. So my
observatory was just some sheets of tin nailed to more 2X4s to act as a light
block.
On
clear nights, I’d go out and sit in the dark listening to my Walkman letting my
eyes adjust to the darkness. I’d then
make observations, trying my hand at drawing star clusters, lunar craters, or
marking the positions of the Galilean moons.
One
night, I had been looking through the telescope for some time, and I sat back
to stretch. During this I had closed my
eyes, but with my face pointing straight up I opened them, and was almost
blinded by this bright flash right in my face.
I’ve
always had an overactive imagination, so my knee-jerk reaction was ALIENS! But after about twenty heartbeats – so maybe
two seconds – I realized what had happened and started laughing. Some random firefly was just flying along,
looking for a mate, and decided to light up maybe a foot in front of my just
opening, strained, dark adapted eyes.
That
only happened once, but there were several times where I was looking at
something through my telescope when suddenly the field would be filled with
this overly bright, greenish yellow blob.
Some people love the image of fireflies on an evening. I think of them as blinding bastards who make
me think of aliens.
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