Light pollution is a problem. And I don’t mean light pollution as in the opposite of heavy pollution, although I guess in that case light pollution would be better than heavy. No, I mean light pollution as in the presence of what scientists have deemed the dastardly villain ALAN — artificial light at night.

Artificial light at night can certainly make it harder for humans to see the stars, an ancient calling skyward that fills a hole in most of our souls. But it’s even worse for nocturnal animals and — somehow most importantly — insects. 

On one of my first nights in Lewiston, I mistook the streetlight in the corner of my eye for the moon. (This also happened the second and third nights.) I’m not alone in my confusion — it turns out insects are also confounded by night lights.

Over the past couple of decades, researchers have documented a drastic drop in insect populations— both in size and diversity. (DEI: Diversity, Equity, Insects.) Now, at first I thought of fewer bugs as the opposite of a problem. And in very specific situations, such as inside your car or house, that’s true. But in general, insect populations are vital to the health of the overall ecosystem. They’re vital to pollination, to the food web (if you remember your “Lion King” you may know this as “the circle of life”), to plants and animals alike. Please picture me shaking a fist at the sky and yelling, “Curse you, ALAN!” 

The most popular column I’ve ever written in my nearly nine years here was one complaining about too-bright LED headlights on cars. (The first Senate candidate to promise a ban on those things is winning.) So, not only do we need to still tackle those, but we also need to work on rolling back other unnecessary sources of lights at night.

Fortunately, this is an area where individual choices can help make a difference. It sounds obvious, but only use lights when you need them. Trust me, I get the need for a porch light — I take the dogs out every night for one last round of business. But moths flailing themselves against my porch light aren’t just a distraction for pups. I didn’t know this until very recently but moths are important pollinators! So they should be off on the night shift helping plants propagate. 

You want your outdoor lights to be less than 3,000 kelvins, pointed downward and shielded so they aren’t sticking up in the sky (basically: an outside lampshade). The International Dark-Sky Association, which is somehow not a team of supervillains, lists approved bulbs on darksky.org (and where to buy them!).

Pick lights that emit orange or yellow glow, rather than bright blue-white. This has the added benefit of being aesthetically cute; there’s just something so homey about yellow twinkly lights to me. Reminds me of warm fireplace glow. Turn the lights off when you aren’t using them or, if they’re for safety, change them to motion lights. (Or get a dog. You can adopt one for cheaper than the average CMP bill.) 

Maine has tourism industries built around our pristine woods and waters. But we also have some nearly-perfect clear, dark night skies; the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument is designated as an International Dark Sky Sanctuary by the International Dark-Sky Association. (The association is more into stargazing than bugs, but I’m sure the monument has no shortage of insects.)

Even in more urban parts of Maine, you can still see stars. When I moved from rural Wiscasset to Lewiston, I was worried I would lose my nightly dose of stargazing. Before now I’ve always lived in places right next to big fields, so going outside at night for any reason could turn into a quick celestial field trip.

When we decided to move to Maine’s second largest city, I was worried that maybe it would mean my son wouldn’t grow up seeing the stars. But I looked up my first night in the new house (facing opposite the streetlight, I’ll admit) and we still had a view. How lucky in Maine we are to still have the night sky. Let’s keep it that way.