Sky Tour Podcast for January 2025

This month’s episode is sponsored by Celestron, manufacturer of high-quality telescopes and an industry leader in developing exciting optical products with revolutionary technologies.
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I’m Kelly Beatty of Sky & Telescope magazine, and tonight we’re going on a tour of the stars and planets that you’ll see overhead during January. In this installment we’ll start the year with a meteoric bang, keep tabs on four bright planets, focus on Orion the Hunter, and welcome some other bright winter stars. So grab your curiosity, and come along on this month’s Sky Tour.
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If you’re listening to this podcast early enough in January, you’ll have a chance to make note of two celestial happenings that occur early this month. First, 2025 opens with one of the year’s best displays of “shooting stars.” The Quadrantid meteor shower peaks on January 3rd, with a short, sharp burst of activity. These meteors get their name from Quadrans Muralis, an obsolete constellation near the handle of the Big Dipper — they seem to radiate from that point in the sky. 
Under the very best conditions, from a superdark sky, you might see a “Quad” flash into view every minute or two. But few observers ever see anything close to this many, because maximum activity lasts only several hours and is easy to miss. Unfortunately, this year the peak occurs during daylight for the Americas. Still, this shower tends to have a lot of bright arrivals, so it’s worth taking a look during evening on the 3rd. Interference from a crescent Moon won’t be a problem.
And, second, Earth is closest to the Sun in its orbit at about 8 a.m. Eastern Standard Time on January 4th. Now, you might think that the Sun and Earth are closest in June or July, when it’s hot here in the Northern Hemisphere. But actually, it’s just the opposite: We’re closest to the Sun in early January and farthest in early July.
Speaking of the Moon, let’s quickly check its cycle of phases. First quarter is on January 6th, and the full Wolf Moon follows on the 13th. Last quarter falls on the 21st, and new Moon is early on January 29th. So watch for a razor-thin crescent to pop into view low in the southwest after sunset on the 31st. 
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Now, maybe you’ve been seeing breathless alerts about some grand alignment of planets during January — and maybe you heard that January 25th was the magic date that shouldn’t be missed.  So I’m glad you’re listening now, because much of this is overblown hype. Yes, it’s true that throughout January you can easily see four bright planets in the sky after sunset. And it’s also true that two more worlds, Uranus and Neptune, are lurking in the evening sky as well. But you’ll need either really good binoculars or a small telescope to spot them.
Sure, this puts a nice array of planets within view, but it’s hardly rare. Heck, a little more than two years, in December 2023, all five naked-eye planets, including Mercury, plus Uranus and Neptune, were above the horizon in early evening. So let’s sort this out, shall we? 
As darkness falls, you’ll see two brilliant planets, Venus in the southwest and Jupiter in the east, framing the evening sky like a pair of celestial bookends. Saturn isn’t far from Venus, though it’s much much fainter. Clench your fist and hold it at arm’s length. You’ll find Saturn about one fist to the upper left of Venus in early January. But they move closer together as the days go by, and by mid-month they’re just a couple of degrees apart. After that, Saturn will drift farther down toward the horizon.
Planet #4 is Mars, which reaches opposition, that is, opposite the Sun in the sky, on January 15th. Watch for the Red Planet to rise in the north-northeast, well to the lower left of Jupiter. You’ll know it as soon as you see it, because the Mars shines with a distinct, slightly ruddy hue. Now, since Mars rises right around sunset, and since Venus stays in view for about four hours after the Sun goes down, you’ll have an ample window of time for the entire month to see these four lovely planets at the same time. This planet parade will continue during February, until Saturn sinks too deep in the evening twilight to be easy to spot.
Meanwhile, the Moon will be weaving its way among these planets. A thin crescent will sit just above Venus on the 3rd and above Saturn on the 4th. The full Moon is very close to Mars on the night of Monday, January 13th. In fact, that big, bright orb actually covers, or occults, the Red Planet that night for everyone in the contiguous U.S., Mexico, and the eastern half of Canada. Here in the Boston area, they’ll rise together about 2° apart, and the coverup begins around 9:30. Over on the West Coast, the occultation begins shortly after they rise into view in the northeast. And then Mars will pop back into view roughly an hour after it disappears. This celestial event will be a challenge to follow by eye, but it’ll be quite dramatic if viewed through binoculars or a small telescope. Get more information on our website, skyandtelescope.org. 
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January’s night skies have plenty of other marvels to enjoy. Once it gets good and dark swing well around to the left of where the Sun set until you’re facing southeast. You’ll have no trouble picking up the distinctive bright stars that outline the frame of Orion, the Hunter, who seems to be leaping up from the eastern horizon this time of year. Jupiter is about two fists higher up, and Mars is roughly four fists to Orion’s left. 
More on the great hunter in a moment, but for now take a look at the celestial real estate stretching to Orion’s right, toward west. Not much to see, is there? This is the realm of two large but dim constellations. The one to Orion’s immediate lower right is called Eridanus (ih-RID-un-us), a long winding river of faint stars. Now some scholars think Eridanus represented a real river to the ancient Greeks, perhaps located somewhere in central Europe. 
The other faint constellation, farther west and about halfway to Venus, is Cetus. In mythology this creature was a large whale, shark, or sea monster of some sort. Neither of these patterns is very distinctive, because they’re framed by faint stars. But look about 2½ fists to the left of Saturn for a modestly bright star kind of on its own. That’s called Deneb Kaitos, an Arabic name that translates loosely as the “Southern Branch of the Sea Monster’s Tail.”
OK, let’s get back to Orion. Look for the distinctive vertical row of three stars that mark his Belt. To its left, by about the width of one fist, is the red-tinged supergiant star Betelgeuse. It marks one of the Hunter’s shoulders. One fist to the belt’s right is icy white Rigel, marking his left foot.   
Follow the Belt upward, about two fists higher, most of the way to Jupiter, and you’ll encounter a reddish star called Aldebaran, and it marks the angry eye of Taurus, the Bull. Mars is also tinged with red, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Mars looks slightly ruddy because its surface rocks are rusty, whereas Aldebaran glows red because its surface is a searing 6,500° Fahrenheit. Take a moment to compare its hue to that of Betelgeuse, whose surface temperature is roughly the same.
Aldebaran serves as the anchor for a loose V-shaped cluster of stars called the Hyades. In early evening the V is lying on its side, with its bottom pointing to the right and its top — the Bull’s horns — pointing to the left. Depending on the darkness of your sky, you might be able to pick out anywhere from just a few to as many as 20 stars in the Hyades. But the cluster actually consists of hundreds of stars. Curiously, Aldebaran isn’t one of them. It’s just a bright star that happens to lie between us and the cluster. In Greek mythology, the Hyades were daughters of Atlas who had a knack for causing rain.
Now look higher still until you spot a little fuzzy spot that you can just cover with the tip of a finger. This is also a star cluster, called the Pleiades. How many individual stars can you count in the cluster? Five or six? Seven? This grouping is very distinctive, and it’s recognized by many cultures past and present. From the Celts to the Maori to the Aztecs, everyone seems to have a story involving the Pleiades. They’re even mentioned three times in the Bible. 
In ancient Greece these stars were known as the Seven Sisters, all daughters of Atlas and his nymphy wife Pleione (PLAY-owe-nee). How the girls ended up together in the sky varies from tale to tale. In one version, things went from bad to worse for the girls after their father was forced to carry the heavens on his shoulders. With Dad out of the way, Orion started to pursue them — and his intentions weren’t honorable. This chase scene went on for seven years. They prayed for deliverance, and Zeus transformed the girls into doves, then stars, to escape the lustful hunter. Another story ends more tragically: the sisters all commit suicide after learning their father’s fate, after which Zeus raises them up into the sky. 
I like the many origins for this cluster found among Native American tribes, some of whom say the stars began as boys, or puppies, or even women who love onions more than their husbands. The Japanese know them as Subaru, meaning “coming together”. You think I’m kidding, right? Well, the next time you see a Subaru on the street, check out the logo — it’s a stylized group of stars.
Anyway, there are way more than seven stars here — more than 1,000, actually. Any small telescope or binoculars will show you dozens of them, and they’re really quite beautiful when seen that way. Located about 440 light-years away, these stars formed together within the past 100 million years. It’s the kind of stellar birthplace that astronomers think our Sun had when it formed, though all of solar siblings have long since drifted away, into anonymity. That’s what will happen to the Pleiades someday as well.
To the sisters’ upper left, about three fists away, is the bright star Capella, which derives from the Latin words for “little goat.” Capella looks like a single bright beacon, but it’s actually four stars in all — one pair much like the Sun, and a second pair of cooler, redder dwarf stars — all about 42 light-years away. 
By about 8 p.m., Orion has risen well up in the east, and coming up beneath him are two bright stars. On the right is Sirius, the brightest star in the night time sky, and on the left is Procyon. These mark the Hunter’s two dogs, Canis Major and Canis Minor. 
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Thanks for letting me expand your celestial horizons for another month. If you want more tips for viewing the night sky, including a free, interactive star chart for any time or date, check out our website, SkyandTelescope.org.
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And if you want to explore the solar system and universe more deeply, check out the full line of binoculars and telescopes available at Celestron.com.
Sky Tour is a production of Sky & Telescope, a division of the American Astronomical Society, and is produced by me, Kelly Beatty.
Next month we’ll spend some quality time with the bright stars of winter. Until then, I wish you Clear Skies.