Seeing the Milky Way in a whole new light

We’ve all grown up hearing the term “the Milky Way.” Here in our part of the Midwest, most of us have seen it as a vague blush of pale light through the darkness of a midnight sky. If you’re like me, you’ve probably scratched your head and wondered, "How they arrived at the name ‘Milky Way’ from something as anemic as that?”

The truth is most of us have only seen a grossly washed-out version of a wonder that has graced the night sky since long before man could form words to describe it.

In “Hiawatha’s Childhood,” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow writes of “The broad white road in heaven.” In 1855, when that poem was released, that broad white road was still visible as described from nearly every place on the planet. That was 24 years before Edison patented the incandescent light bulb. The Milky Way has been less “milky” for most of us ever since.

Light pollution not only diminishes our view of the heavens but, more tragically, interrupts natural nighttime processes in large swaths of nature. Birds, bats, sea turtles, insects — all of these creatures pay a price at the hands of diminished darkness. Night-migrating birds using light cues for navigation plow into fully lit downtown skyscrapers by the tens of thousands during each season of travel as they become disoriented in the flood of city light. Newly hatched sea turtles are misdirected inland rather than to the safety of the surf by the call of resort lighting along the tropical beaches. The list goes on and on.

While artificial lighting is indeed a blessing of incredible proportions, excess lighting can be a curse with profound implications. In recognition of that fact, efforts are growing to preserve the darkest places on our planet.

During my recent trip out west, I camped on the outskirts of Zion National Park, a certified International Dark Sky Park recognized for its efforts at limiting light pollution and preserving one of the best views of the night sky in America. When night fell, I was absolutely blown away by what I saw! The Milky Way was there, an edge-on view of our own galaxy, stretched across the sky from one horizon to the other — an undeniably “milky” band of stars, nebulae and even more distant galaxies unimaginably vast and infinitely deep.

The difference between what I’d grown up with and what I was seeing was — if you’ll pardon a pun — like day and night! There, on a new moon night, with my eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, the “pale” light of the stars seemed bright enough to light my path!

While diminished everywhere we go in Ohio, we can nevertheless look up in wonder at the night sky. There’s still plenty to see and discover. September and October, with low humidity and an abundance of clear nights, offer some great viewing. Get out there tonight and look up!

If you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.