My favorite scene in the wonderful film “The Milagro Beanfield War” zeroes in on Amarante, the oldest man in a small New Mexico town. The camera catches his joy at awakening to the light of sunrise. Before leaving his bed, he gives thanks for being allowed to live another day. Through Amarante, we understand that we need light, we long for it and we welcome the promise it brings.
Unless, of course, and through the otherwise joyful magic of electricity, it not only gets in the way, but also contributes to countless and unnecessary deaths.
In late March, the Tin Shed Theater hosted a viewing of “Lights Out, Texas!” Produced by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, the film addresses the detrimental impact of night lighting on bird migration. Studies have posited that as many as one billion birds die every year from collisions with illuminated windows in low buildings. In addition, it is believed that birds may become confused by the lighting in major cities and, as a result, lose so much strength and energy that they simply fall dead to the ground.
There is further research that indicates that birds use the stars, landmarks and even quantum mechanics—proteins in birds’ eyes may be sensitive to the earth’s magnetic field—to navigate. An overabundance of lighting may interfere with these innate systems. In short, there seems to be ample evidence that we’d be doing the birds a big favor if we made some changes.
Among the many solutions are such easy fixes as ensuring that outdoor lighting points to the ground and not the sky, that homeowners close window curtains and blinds at night, and that the owners of huge office buildings turn off excess lights, especially when birds are most active during the spring and fall.
As someone who enjoys the darkness of a night sky, I’d say taking these steps is worthy all year-round. Turning down (or off) the lights not only helps the birds, but it also brings back the stars.
Scientists have found a clear correlation between star visibility and human emotional well-being. It isn’t surprising. Experiencing nature makes all of us feel good, whether it’s a daytime stroll along a lake or staring at a sky filled with the wonders of the universe. It’s obvious that what can be good for wildlife—birds, in this case—can be very good for us, as well.
I’d like to say that “Lights Out, Texas!” focused all of my thoughts on our flying friends, but it didn’t. As I watched the film about massive light pollution, my mind wandered and I wondered how many of us see no more than just a handful of stars. I thought of the astronomers of centuries past whose view of the sky was not so severely limited by modern-day technology. Ah, what they must have seen by just looking up.
We might not be able to turn the clocks back and welcome the dark skies of the pre-industrial age, but we can still make a difference through individual acts that are mindful of the birds and that allow our children to gaze with awe at the Milky Way. If nothing else, decreasing our use of lights may simply save us a few dollars and help to offset at least a little of the high cost of everything else.
So, in May and under dark skies, let’s not just be satisfied with finding the rather bright stars of the Big Dipper. Instead, understanding that the handle of the dipper is actually the tail of the Great Bear, Ursa Major, look forward (generally, westward and northwest this month) and try to find the rest of this magnificent constellation. The late singer John Denver had it right, I believe, when he sang, “I know he’d be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly.” Conversely, I wonder how many of us will feel all the richer if we could see the pointed nose and the extended legs of the mighty bear charging across the sky.
It may be hard to define happiness and non-material wealth, but saving the lives of thousands upon thousands of birds, while giving us a better chance to connect to the heavens, should help to give us that answer.
There’s Amarante’s good light, and then there’s needless artificial bad light. We can’t get enough of the former and must, and can, limit the latter.
Harold Meckler can be contacted at byaakov54@gmail.com