A famous thinker called Wittgenstein once asked a friend and pupil called Elizabeth Anscombe,
‘Why do people say it was natural to think that the sun went round the Earth rather than that the Earth turned on its axis?’
Miss Anscombe answered,
‘I suppose because it looked as if the sun went round the Earth.’
‘Well,’ Wittgenstein replied, ‘what would it have looked like if it had looked as if the Earth turned on its axis?’
You try and answer that!
If the Earth is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, why, when we jump straight up in the air, don’t we come down in a different place? Well, when you are on a train travelling at 100 mph, you can jump up in the air and you still land in the same place on the train. You can think of yourself as being hurled forwards by the train as you jump, but it doesn’t feel like that because everything else is moving forwards at the same rate. You can throw a ball straight up on a train and it comes straight down again. You can play a perfectly good game of ping-pong on a train, so long as it is travelling smoothly and not accelerating or decelerating or going fast around a corner. (But only in an enclosed carriage. If you tried to play ping-pong on an open truck the ball would blow away. This is because the air comes with you in an enclosed carriage, but not when you are standing on an open truck.) When you are travelling at a steady rate in an enclosed railway carriage, no matter how fast, you might as well be standing stock still as far as ping-pong, or anything else that happens on the train, is concerned. However, if the train is speeding up (or slowing down), and you jump up in the air, you will come down in a different place! And a game of ping-pong on an accelerating or decelerating or turning train would be a strange game, even though the air inside the carriage is dead still relative to the carriage. We’ll come back to this later, in connection with what it is like when you throw things about in an orbiting space station.
Working round the clock – and the calendar
Night gives way to day, and day gives way to night, as the part of the world we happen to be standing on spins to face the sun, or spins into the shade. But almost as dramatic, at least for those of us who live far from the equator, is the seasonal change from short nights and long, hot days in summer to long nights and short, cold days in winter.
The difference between night and day is dramatic – so dramatic that most species of animal can thrive either in the day or in the night but not both. They usually sleep during their ‘off’ period. Humans and most birds sleep by night and work at the business of living during the day. Hedgehogs and jaguars and many other mammals work by night and sleep by day.
In the same way, animals have different ways of coping with the change between winter and summer. Lots of mammals grow a thick, shaggy coat for the winter, then shed it in spring. Many birds, and mammals too, migrate, sometimes huge distances, to spend the winter closer to the equator, then migrate back to the high latitudes (the far north or far south) for the summer, where the long days and short nights provide bumper feeding. A seabird called the Arctic tern carries this to an extreme. Arctic terns spend the northern summer in the Arctic. Then, in the northern autumn, they migrate south – but they don’t stop in the tropics, they go all the way to the Antarctic. Books sometimes describe the Antarctic as the ‘wintering grounds’ of the Arctic tern, but of course that’s nonsense: by the time they get to the Antarctic it is the southern summer. The Arctic tern migrates so far that it gets two summers: it has no ‘wintering grounds’ because it has no winter. I’m reminded of the joking remark of a friend of mine who lived in England during the summer, and went to tropical Africa to ‘tough out the winter’!
Another way some animals avoid the winter is to sleep through it. It’s called ‘hibernation’, from hibernus , the Latin word for ‘wintry’. Bears and ground squirrels are among the many mammals, and quite a lot of other kinds of animals, that hibernate. Some animals sleep continuously through the whole winter; some sleep for most of the time, occasionally stirring into sluggish activity and then sleeping again. Usually their body temperature drops dramatically during hibernation and everything inside them slows down almost to a stop: their internal engines just barely tick over. There’s even a frog in Alaska which goes so far as to freeze solid in a block of ice, thawing out and coming to life again in the spring.
Even those animals, like us, that don’t hibernate or migrate to avoid the winter have to adapt to the changing seasons. Leaves sprout in spring and fall in autumn (which is why it’s called the ‘fall’ in America), so trees that are a lush green in summer become gaunt and bare in winter. Lambs are born in spring, so they get the benefit of warm temperatures and new grass as they are growing. We may not grow long, woolly coats in winter, but we often wear them.
So we can’t ignore the changing seasons, but do we understand them? Many people don’t. There are even some people who don’t understand that the Earth takes a year to orbit the sun – indeed, that’s what a year is! According to a poll, 19 per cent of British people think it takes a month, and similar percentages have been found in other European countries.
Even among those who understand what a year means, there are many who think the Earth is closer to the sun in summer, more distant in winter. Tell that to an Australian, barbecuing Christmas dinner in a bikini on a baking hot beach! The moment you remember that in the southern hemisphere December is midsummer and June is midwinter, you realize that the seasons can’t be caused by changes in how close the Earth is to the sun. There has to be another explanation.
We can’t get very far with that explanation until we have looked at what makes heavenly bodies orbit other heavenly bodies in the first place. So that’s what we’ll do next.
Why do the planets stay in orbit around the sun? Why does anything stay in orbit around anything else? This was first understood in the seventeenth century by Sir Isaac Newton, one of the greatest scientists who ever lived. Newton showed that all orbits were controlled by gravity – the same force of gravity that pulls falling apples towards the ground, but on a larger scale. (Alas, the story that Newton got the idea when an apple bounced off his head is probably not really true.)
Newton imagined a cannon on top of a very high mountain, with its barrel pointing horizontally out to sea (the mountain is on the coast). Each ball it fires seems to start off moving horizontally, but at the same time it is falling towards the sea. The combination of motion out over the sea and falling towards the sea results in a graceful downward curve, culminating in a splash. It is important to understand that the ball is falling all the time, even on the earlier, flatter part of the curve. It’s not that it travels flat horizontally for a while, then suddenly changes its mind like a cartoon character who realizes he ought to be falling and therefore starts doing so!
The cannonball starts falling the moment it leaves the gun, but you don’t see the falling as downward motion because the ball is moving (nearly) horizontally as well, and quite fast.
Now let’s make our cannon bigger and stronger, so that the cannonball travels many miles before it finally splashes into the sea. There is still a downward curve, but it’s a very gradual, very ‘flat’ curve. The direction of travel is pretty nearly horizontal for quite a lot of the way, but nevertheless it is still falling the whole time.
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