In this week’s newsletter, we tell you about one west coast First Nation’s plans to establish a dark sky festival and draw attention to our endangered, irreplaceable view of the stars
When an old-growth tree is felled, or oil spilled into the ocean, many people will recognize this as a profound loss of something ancient and irreplaceable: a wounding of the world. Dark skies, too, are a precious natural resource.
Photo: NASA / Preston Dyches
Starlight, star brightThis west coast First Nation plans to establish a dark sky festival to draw attention to our endangered, irreplaceable view of the stars.
I still remember the first time I ever got to see a sky full of stars. It was about a decade ago, when my friend invited me to her home in Grosse Isle, Man., for Christmas. On the hour-long drive from Winnipeg, the skies, unencumbered by light pollution, looked heavenly — a sight that was all but absent in a big city like Mumbai, where I’d grown up.
That memory was the first thing that came to mind when The Narwhal’s senior editor Michelle Cyca told me she was going to drive to Bamfield, B.C., this September for three days — to report a story about how the Huu-ay-aht First Nation is trying to preserve its dark skies.
My experience isn’t that uncommon, Michelle’s story confirms: as of 2016, 80 per cent of North Americans couldn’t see the Milky Way. Since then, the night sky has become even more saturated by artificial light — about twice as bright as it was eight years ago. It’s a type of environmental degradation that’s not as obvious, but light pollution impacts creatures like bats, sea turtles, songbirds — and humans, too.
For the Huu-ay-aht, everything is connected. It’s why the First Nation is on a mission to protect its stars, and even developing a dark sky festival — which it hopes will bolster economic development, preserve astronomical traditions and draw attention to our endangered, irreplaceable view of the stars.
“Artificial lighting is not an oil spill or a felled tree,” Michelle writes. “Unlike other forms of environmental devastation, we can undo much of it with the flick of a switch. It might not be so simple as that, but it’s possible to restore some of what we’ve lost, and protect what we still have.”
P.S. We’re so close to our goal of raising $200,000 this December, which will help us keep telling stories about the natural world in Canada (and the skies) that you won’t find anywhere else. Will you chip in what you can this holiday season?
P.P.S. Our regular Thursday newsletter will return on Jan. 9 as our staff take a well-earned rest. We’ll get to your emails when we’re back. Until then, happy holidays!
Some light Narwhal holiday reading
Have you watched Hot Frosty, the buzzy Netflix romcom starring Dustin Milligan and Lacey Chabert, yet? Milligan answers our Moose Questionnaire, in which he talks about staring at frozen lakes in the Northwest Territories and holding billionaires accountable.
Missed some good climate news? Reporter Ainslie Cruickshank has a round-up of all the reasons why you can feel good about the natural world in B.C. (and stay cautiously optimistic!).
We also have a piece on what it’s like to bike to work all year round in a snowy city like Winnipeg — and this one bassist’s journey to cultivate a relationship with cycling.
This week in The Narwhal
The dream behind a big, beautiful Buffalo story — in English and Cree By Cara McKenna
How common is it in journalism for four people, who have the same ancestral language (nêhiyawêwin), to come together to work on a story in both English and ‘the language that the Buffalo were hearing hundreds of years ago when they were moving across the plains?’
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When an old-growth tree is felled, or oil spilled into the ocean, many people will recognize this as a profound loss of something ancient and irreplaceable: a wounding of the world. Dark skies, too, are a precious natural resource.
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Your access to our journalism is free, always. Sign up for our newsletter for investigative reporting on the natural world in B.C. — and across Canada — you won’t find anywhere else.
