The Missing Darkness

An August evening, using the bat detectors to listen for the first bats of the evening; two Pipistrelles at the north end of the Ornamental Water.

Along the boards, walking towards the Cedar Tree, Pipistrelles were much in evidence, with just a hint of an occasional Daubenton's. By the time it was dark, and just before the Cedar tree I glimpsed a light flashing across the sky - the first shooting star I'd seen for years.

Ahead, a large group - probably family and friends - were fishing. It was a fun activity - and probably a late into-the-night one; they had gas lamps, a picnic basket and probably a stove as well. It was obvious to us how they were enjoying their evening; perhaps less obvious to them how we were enjoying ours. However we did hear one of the youngsters say "They're looking for bats".

As we passed them and said good evening, one of the men and a couple of children came up and started chatting. We confirmed what we were doing and the man - obviously an east Londoner - told us about the wonderful things he experienced whilst night fishing - from animals to stars. He told us how sometimes he saw artificial satellites traversing the sky.

We said goodnight and walked on. As we move slightly uphill towards the Plain - looking for more shooting stars - a satellite crossed the sky, fading into nothingness as it moved across Redbridge. A few yards further on - another shooting star!

It was only as we moved from the surrounding trees to the openness of the Plain that we could really see the sky. It was strange; this was an August night - not the black depths of winter ; we were looking towards the glow of London and It was light enough to quite easily see the silhouettes of trees and houses and the ground beneath us, but the sky was full of stars! We stood and tried to make out some of the constellations, but were soon attracted to a particularly bright star in the direction of Little Ilford. It was so bright that my thoughts were that it was not a star at all but the landing lights of a plane. It didn't appear to be moving, but then when a plane is moving directly towards you this can sometimes be the perception. This one didn't move though, so I reconsidered and thought perhaps that it was the searchlight of a hovering helicopter. Then Tim got his binoculars out and said "It's a planet". Well, Venus is bright, so is Jupiter, Mars can be on occasions and Sirius is a bright star, but this looks brighter than I have seen any of them. I borrowed the binoculars, looked at the light and immediately saw three moons. It was Jupiter - looking really large and bright - a wonderful sight. Glancing back the way we'd come, the Moon had just risen above the trees towards Ilford. The optical illusion that many of us are familiar with when the Moon is low like this is that it was huge. It was also orange, presenting a particularly unusual sight. It was also only three quarters full so that looking through binoculars it didn't glare and we were able to see the shadowed relief of the craters on its missing edge.

The shooting stars, it turned out, were the Perseids - an annual occurrence which I usually miss due to the sky being overcast. This evening was different; looking for bats we had seen so many things in the night sky. I wonder if that's why bat-walks are so popular? Perhaps they are just an excuse to be out in the dark? We are missing and dismissing the dark; we're forgetting what a starry sky look like. We're getting out of touch with nature and with reality. The nature most of us are familiar with is that presented to us in television programmes. The programs are wonderful, but they're only a tiny piece of what's out there - outside our homes - and we're not living the experience. The night sky is there too, but then so are our street lights. It's only on rare and special occasions like that August night that many of us are able to appreciate and remember them. Perhaps we should turn off some of the lights and get out there and see the stars.

Paul Ferris, 24th February 2010