In Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Stargazing Sheds Light on the Dark Sky Movement

At the northern tip of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where rugged cliffs jut out toward Lake Superior, Keweenaw County is known for its rich biodiversity and opportunities for outdoor recreation. One of the region’s most remarkable qualities, though, is its darkness.

Far from large city centers, the county has embraced its lack of light pollution, or excessive artificial light that bleeds into outdoor spaces.

This weekend, a new event—the Great Lakes Aurora Dark Sky Jamboree (GLAD JAM)—welcomes visitors to the park to stargaze while learning more about the dark sky movement and its campaign to end light pollution for the health of humans and wildlife alike.

The region’s first “Dark Sky Park” was designated in 2022. The dark sky movement has been supported by a growing body of research suggesting light pollution can disrupt the migration patterns and circadian rhythms of animals, putting fragile ecosystems around the world at risk.

Migratory birds—many species of which use Michigan’s Upper Peninsula as a crucial flyway—are among the animals most at-risk for light pollution disturbances. Since 1970, the number of birds in North America has decreased by 29 percent, according to a 2019 study published in Science. That is a net loss of nearly 3 billion birds, many of them migratory species. Light pollution is one of the drivers behind these losses, says Jared Wolfe, assistant professor of wildlife biology at Michigan Technological University and one of the speakers at GLAD JAM.

“These birds are using a whole host of amazing cues,” Wolfe explains. Often traveling at night, these birds wait for darkness and then look toward the light of celestial bodies and use the Earth’s magnetic field to help them navigate the route to their next destinations. 

Bright lights and electromagnetic interference from the infrastructure used to power them work together to throw birds off their natural course, increasing their risk of colliding with buildings—the fate of over one billion birds each year. 

But for a pollutant with such a high death toll, light is fairly easy to control, explains Neil Gilbert, an ecologist at Oklahoma State University. “If habitat is destroyed, it takes a long time to regenerate or restore that, but with these lights, it’s a matter of switching them off and darkness is restored,” he says. “That’s the opportunity, and I think it’s a matter of motivation, and it’s a matter of awareness.”

First supported by astronomers concerned that their view of the night sky was becoming obstructed by excess light, the dark sky movement has expanded in recent decades, bolstered by the work of DarkSky International, a nonprofit organization based in Tucson, Arizona, that advocates for dark skies and also runs a program that certifies areas around the world as Dark Sky Places. Places interested in dark sky certification make changes to limit light pollution—replacing cool-toned streetlights with warmer, dimmer lights, for example—and then file an application with DarkSky International.

There are different types of Dark Sky Places, including sanctuaries, reserves, parks, communities and urban spaces. Each has its own guidelines and thresholds for darkness for certification. For parks, such as Keweenaw Dark Sky Park, the key requirements are that the place is dark enough to see the Milky Way on a typical night, is open to the public and actively engaged in outreach and education.

“There’s a lot of engagement associated with a park,” says Amber Harrison, manager of DarkSky International’s Dark Sky Places program. “It’s a place where they can go and have an introductory experience and an introductory education about the dark sky movement.” 

In Michigan, especially, raising awareness about the impacts of light pollution through the establishment of dark sky places is no simple feat. A 2012 amendment to the state’s Natural Resources and Environmental Protection Act prohibits establishing dark sky preserves on state- and county-owned land in the Upper Peninsula, as these preserves could block industrial development that would boost the region’s economy.

“Protect the Porkies,” an advocacy group for the Upper Peninsula’s Porcupine Mountains, is leading the charge to repeal this legislation. In their plea for lifting the ban, the group cites the region’s potential as an astro-tourism destination and the fragile health of local wildlife, most of which is nocturnal.

While this fight plays out in Michigan’s state legislature this year, Keweenaw Dark Sky Park—housed on the private land owned by the Keweenaw Mountain Lodge—remains the Upper Peninsula’s only certified Dark Sky Place, and a key setting for proponents of Michigan’s dark sky movement to engage with the public at events like GLAD JAM.

“There’s never been more of an effort—especially in Michigan and up here—to protect our dark skies and make sure that we don’t have light pollution,” says Jesse Wiederhold, who helped plan GLAD JAM as Visit Keweenaw’s public relations and events coordinator.

Looking ahead to the event, Wolfe, the wildlife biologist, hopes attendees—many of whom will spend their evenings looking up into the darkness during stargazing events, observatory tours and night sky photography workshops—better understand the plight of the migratory birds most impacted by light pollution.

Many areas of wildlife conservation interest Wolfe, but none more than birds. He describes them as both beautiful and easy to analyze for research—especially in Michigan, which is home to more than 450 avian species. Currently, he is working on developing acoustic deterrents in the hopes of preventing migratory birds from entering unsafe airspace, such as bright cities where light pollution can lead to large-scale mortality events. 

Wolfe referenced an event in Chicago, when more than 1,000 birds died from building collisions in a single day in 2023, as just one of the many reasons people should care more about how light pollution is impacting local birds.

“In some way, birds must find a clear sky beautiful and fulfilling,” Wolfe says. “To them, it must signal a successful migratory journey. And for us, we probably have a similar kind of fulfillment when we look up and see a beautiful night sky unencumbered by artificial light.”