It’s good to be in the dark
by Melissa Lamberton on Jan. 27, 2009, under OpinionStellar views – at least skyward – come to light when the city is dim
A time-lapse photo of telescopes at Kitt Peak National Observatory shows an orange glow from lights in Phoenix, 120 miles away. The glow on the front of the domes is from Tucson lights, 40 miles away. The streak in the sky is a meteor.
The first time I stood under a truly dark sky was in Hawaii. I was 14, at an astronomy camp, waiting for the moon to rise over Mauna Kea.
Constellations strode across the heavens: Hercules larger than life; Scorpius with his wicked sting.
As night deepened, a swath of silver began to appear above the hills. I turned to my observing partner in disappointment, certain that the night would be ruined by clouds.
“That isn’t a cloud,” he said. “That’s the Milky Way.”
Most of us don’t realize what we’re missing when we step outside at night. At best, a few dozen stars might be visible through the city haze.
But if you’ve ever driven through open farmland or stood on an island beach, you know how miraculous it is to see the stretching arm of our galaxy wash the sky in silver.
Tucson has a long history of astronomy. Steward Observatory has been a fixture here since 1916, and the Catalina Mountains are adorned with telescope domes.
By 1963, creeping city lights forced Steward to relocate its campus telescope to Kitt Peak. Not long after, Pima County adopted its first dark-sky ordinances.
Tucsonans should be proud of our legacy – this is, after all, the birthplace of the International Dark Sky Association, a group dedicated to preserving the night.
Yet we often use light carelessly, stunning other drivers with highbeams or leaving on our floodlights.
Ironically, poorly designed light fixtures can make neighborhoods more dangerous, rather than safer, because they ruin night vision and create shadows.
About 450 species of songbirds migrate annually across North America, many of them coming to rest in the trees along our own San Pedro River.
We kill thousands of them with light, as they dash into buildings or circle above cities in confusion until plummeting down.
Light pollution threatens many nocturnal animals, from sea turtles to toads. As we extinguish stars, we destroy moths and fireflies.
Humans are also affected. Despite our attempts to lengthen hours so that work, school and busy activities can continue long after sundown, our bodies still depend on circadian rhythms.
Our health – and perhaps something of life’s joy and meaning – is threatened by skies empty of stars. All of this comes with higher electricity bills and wasted resources.
The problem is serious, but the solution is wonderfully simple, even instantaneous.
Unlike any other kind of pollution, the effects of light do not linger.
Consider installing efficient outdoor fixtures that illuminate only where needed. Better yet, turn off the lights altogether. The sky above your house might turn out to be the perfect ceiling for a romantic date or an inspirational classroom for your children.
The desert challenged our predecessors to banish the darkness, and there is a certain beauty in Tucson’s spreading city lights.
Now we face a new challenge: to put technology aside and remember the value of night.
Most of us have never seen the Milky Way cast shadows or experienced the slow arc of a meteor as it burns through atmosphere. But, of course, anyone can. The stars are still waiting for us.
Melissa Lamberton is a University of Arizona student, a poet and a Tucson native. E-mail: mllamb@email.arizona.edu
Lights at a shopping center shine up into the sky, providing little useful light for customers and an annoyance for astronomers.
After the lights are adjusted to point down, the area is better illuminated and less glare is cast into the night sky.
Melissa Lamberton
