a bit of gratitude // day 5
There's a quiet corner in the library I've come to think of as a sanctuary. It's lined with spines bearing promises of a greener world – titles like Go Lightly and Let’s Get Trashed: A Year of No Garbage whispering to me. As the sun filters through the high windows, dancing across the words of change, I can almost hear the leaves rustling in agreement outside.
It was here, amidst these books of transformation, that I was reminded of a conversation I had recently. I was on a long-awaited trip with my mother, a reunion under the stars after years of us orbiting each other like distant planets. We ventured to a place that honored the night, a dark sky community where the Milky Way poured across the sky like a river of diamonds, untainted by the glare of human invention.
I was struck by a comment our guide made stating that he’d never live in an place where he couldn’t see the Milky Way. I found this fascinating, the strength and resolve of his statement as well as the discipline that might place on his life.
On a second adventure during this trip we met with a devout birder, and spent a morning walking the riparian desert seeking out both migratory and resident birds. As we walked she taught that two-thirds of our feathered friends migrate at night by the stars, using the magnetic field and their ocular nerve to navigate.
These two separate outings made me want to be more aware of simple acts I could do to preserve the world we live in: turning off lights during peak migration months, pointing light bulbs downward rather than cast away the darkness. Such small deeds, though only a whisper in the vastness of the cosmos, speak volumes of gratitude for the world that we call home.
I've come to understand that change does not sweep in like a tempest—it's a seed that germinates slowly. Not everyone can overhaul their lives at a moment's notice, nor should they be expected to. Instead, it's the tiny, focused shifts in habit that build the path to preservation.
So, as I sit here now, in the quiet corner of our library, I scribble notes in my journal—a personal blueprint for a life more considerate of those with wings, roots, and fins. Each night as I switch off my porch light and retreat into my home, I silently nod to the world I am ever so grateful for.
Living in a dark sky community means being in a place where measures are taken to reduce light pollution so that everyone can enjoy clear, starry skies at night. This is often done through special lighting rules and community efforts.
Below are some effective ways to help with light pollution in your area specifically to help migratory birds -
Turn Off Lights // During migration seasons, which are primarily in the spring (March-May) and fall (August-October), turn off exterior and decorative lighting whenever possible, especially overnight.
Use Motion Detectors // Install motion sensor lights for outdoor lighting so they are only on when necessary, reducing the amount of light at night.
Downward Shielding // Use fixtures that direct light downward, not upward or outward, to minimize the glare that can disorient birds.
Close Blinds or Curtains // At night, close blinds or curtains to keep indoor lighting from shining outside and adding to the problem.
Dimmer Switches and Timers // Use dimmer switches to reduce the intensity of indoor lighting and timers to ensure lights aren’t left on all night.
Choose LED Lights // Use LED lights with a warm color temperature for outdoor lighting. These are generally less disruptive to wildlife.
By taking these steps, we can contribute to a safer environment for migratory birds, but also help in the larger fight against light pollution, leading to energy savings and a better night sky for everyone.
