Street lights are preventing moths pollinating and that's bad

David Attenborough, perhaps worrying about street lighting and moths. Image: Getty.

For centuries, we have observed that artificial sources of light hold a strange fascination for moths. And despite decades of research, we still don’t know the cause of this attraction. Some theories put it down to the way moths navigate; others think it’s a mechanism to help them to escape from perceived danger. But the truth is, little evidence exists to support either of these ideas.

Whatever the cause is, research has shown that this deadly attraction may have even more sinister consequences than we first thought. In an open access paper in Global Change Biology, my colleagues and I describe the first evidence which shows that the effects of artificial light on moths may have serious implications for the wider ecosystem.


There has been plenty written about the danger posed by declining bee and butterfly populations, on the basis that some plants rely on these insects to carry pollen and fertilise flowers, in order to reproduce. But many people aren’t aware that moths also perform this task: our study of field sites across Oxfordshire found that one in four moths were carrying pollen, from at least 28 different plant species.

And like their cousins the butterflies, moths are in trouble: according to Butterfly Conservation’s Richard Fox: “the total abundance of moths in Britain has decreased by over a quarter since the 1960s”. Research indicates that artificial light, such as street lamps, has contributed to this decline by affecting moths' development, reproduction and ability to escape predators.

Now, our data suggests that street lights are also directly thwarting night-time pollination, by attracting moths upwards, away from the fields and hedgerows. We found that the abundance of moths at ground level was halved in lit areas, while flight activity at the height of the street light was nearly doubled. The diversity of species was also reduced at ground level, with 25 per cent fewer moth species in lit areas, compared to places without street lighting.

This change is likely to disrupt nighttime pollination by moths, and indeed we found some evidence that moths may carry less pollen, from fewer plant species, in lighted streets. This could mean that the impacts of street lights go beyond posing a health risk to moths. Plants that rely on moths for pollination would also suffer if their reproduction is impeded – and this might, in turn, affect organisms that eat those plants or drink their nectar.

In a best-case scenario, some of these so-called cascading effects might be mitigated where flowers can rely on other insects such as bees for pollination. But there are further factors driving declines in pollinator populations, such as climate change, pesticides and habitat loss. Now, our research suggests that artificial light can be added to the list.

Unnatural selection

So how can we protect these beautiful, under-appreciated insects and the important role they play in our environment?

The Spindle Ermine moth knows what’s good for it. Image: gailhampshire/flickr/creative commons.

Another recent paper published by researchers in Switzerland suggests that moths may be evolving to be less strongly attracted to lights. Under controlled experimental conditions in a flight cage, they found that Spindle Ermine moths from urban populations were less likely to be captured in light-baited moth traps than their rural counterparts.

These findings suggest that moths which can resist the temptation of lights put themselves at a significant advantage over their peers. Over time this has led city-dwelling moth populations to become less attracted to lights, through natural selection. But this is all relative: urban moths are still far from immune to the deadly allure of urban street lights.


We can’t simply switch street lighting off: although the evidence for its actual benefits is questionable, it certainly contributes to many people’s feeling of safety and security when outside after dark and proposals to turn lights off are often unpopular.

But if we don’t wish to wait for the slow crawl of evolution, it may be that recent advances in street lighting technology can help to mitigate the impacts of artificial light. For example, developments born out of a desire for energy efficiency could also minimise the impact of street lighting on moths. Measures such as switching on street lights for part of the night, dimming them or introducing motion-activated lighting would reduce moths' exposure to street lights. Similarly, the flexibility of LED lights might allow for the creation of street lights that are less attractive to moths, which respond most strongly to short-wavelength blue light.

Nevertheless, artificial light at night continues to increase as we seek to drive darkness from the streets. Our research is another warning that this may have far-reaching consequences for the organisms around us.The Conversation

Callum Macgregor is a PhD candidate at Newcastle University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

 
 
 
 

Was the decline in Liverpool’s historic population really that unusual?

A view of Liverpool from Birkenhead. Image: Getty.

It is often reported that Liverpool’s population halved after the 1930s. But is this true? Or is it a myth?

Often, it’s simply assumed that it’s true. The end. Indeed, proud Londoner Lord Adonis – a leading proponent of the Liverpool-bypassing High Speed 2 railway, current chair of the National Infrastructure Commission, and generally a very influential person – stood on the stairs in Liverpool Town Hall in 2011 and said:

“The population of Liverpool has nearly halved in the last 50 years.”

This raises two questions. Firstly, did the population of the City of Liverpool really nearly halve in the 50 year period to 2011? That’s easy to check using this University of Portsmouth website – so I did just that (even though I knew he was wrong anyway). In 2011, the population of the City of Liverpool was 466,415. Fifty years earlier, in 1961, it was 737,637, which equates to a 37 per cent drop. Oops!

In fact, the City of Liverpool’s peak population was recorded in the 1931 Census as 846,302. Its lowest subsequent figure was recorded in the 2001 Census as 439,428 – which represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over a 70 year period.

Compare this to the population figures for the similarly sized City of Manchester. Its peak population also recorded in the 1931 Census as 748,729, and its lowest subsequent figure was also recorded in the 2001 Census, as 392,830. This also represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over the same 70 year period.

So, as can be seen here, Liverpool is not a special case at all. Which makes me wonder why it is often singled out or portrayed as exceptional in this regard, in the media and, indeed, by some badly briefed politicians. Even London has a similar story to tell, and it is told rather well in this recent article by a Londoner, for the Museum of London. (Editor’s note: It’s one of mine.)

This leads me onto the second question: where have all those people gone: London? The Moon? Mars?

Well, it turns out that the answer is bit boring and obvious actually: after World War 2, lots of people moved to the suburbs. You know: cars, commuter trains, slum clearance, the Blitz, all that stuff. In other words, Liverpool is just like many other places: after the war, this country experienced a depopulation bonanza.


So what form did this movement to the suburbs take, as far as Liverpool was concerned? Well, people moved and were moved to the suburbs of Greater Liverpool, in what are now the outer boroughs of the city region: Halton, Knowsley, St Helens, Sefton, Wirral. Others moved further, to Cheshire West & Chester, West Lancashire, Warrington, even nearby North Wales, as previously discussed here.

In common with many cities, indeed, Liverpool City Council actually built and owned large several ‘New Town’ council estates, to which they moved tens of thousands of people to from Liverpool’s inner districts: Winsford in Cheshire West (where comedian John Bishop grew up), Runcorn in Halton (where comedian John Bishop also grew up), Skelmersdale in West Lancashire, Kirkby in Knowsley. There is nothing unique or sinister here about Liverpool (apart from comedian John Bishop). This was common practice across the country – Indeed, it was central government policy – and resulted in about 160,000 people being ‘removed’ from the Liverpool local authority area.

Many other people also moved to the nearby suburbs of Greater Liverpool to private housing – another trend reflected across the country. It’s worth acknowledging, however, that cities across the world are subject to a level of ‘churn’ in population, whereby many people move out and many people move in, over time, too.

So how did those prominent images of derelict streets in the inner-city part of the City of Liverpool local authority area come about? For that, you have to blame the last Labour government’s over-zealous ‘Housing Market Renewal Initiative’ (HMRI) disaster – and the over enthusiastic participation of the then-Lib Dem controlled city council. On the promise of ‘free’ money from central government, the latter removed hundreds of people from their homes with a view to demolishing the Victorian terraces, and building new replacements. Many of these houses, in truth, were already fully modernised, owner-occupied houses within viable and longstanding communities, as can be seen here in Voelas Street, one of the famous Welsh Streets of Liverpool:

Voelas Street before HMRI implementation. Image: WelshStreets.co.uk.

The same picture after HMRI implementation Image: WelshStreets.co.uk. 

Nonetheless: the council bought the houses and ‘tinned them up’ ready for demolition. Then the coalition Conservative/Lib Dem government, elected in 2010, pulled the plug on the scheme. 

Fast forward to 2017 and many of the condemned houses have been renovated, in a process which is still ongoing. These are over-subscribed when they come to market, suggesting that the idea was never appropriate for Liverpool on that scale. 

At any rate, it turns out that the Liverpool metropolitan population is pretty much the same as it was at its peak in 1931 (depending where the local borough boundaries are arbitrarily drawn). It just begs the question: why are well educated and supposedly clever people misrepresenting the Liverpool metropolis, in particular, in this way so often? Surely they aren’t stupid are they?


And why are some people so determined to always isolate the City of Liverpool from its hinterland, while London is always described in terms of its whole urban area? It just confuses and undermines what would otherwise often be worthwhile comparisons and discussions. Or, to put it another way: “never, ever, compare apples with larger urban zones”.

In a recent Channel 4 documentary, for example, the well-known and respected journalist Michael Burke directly compared the forecast population growths, by 2039, of the City of Liverpool single local authority area against that of the combined 33 local authority areas of Greater London: 42,722 versus 2.187,708. I mean, what bizarre point is such an inappropriate comparison even trying to make? It is like comparing the projected growth of a normal sized-person’s head with the projected growth of the whole of an obese person, over a protracted period.

Having said all that, there is an important sensible conversation to be had as to why the populations of the Greater Liverpool metropolis and others haven’t grown as fast as maybe should have been the case, whilst, in recent times, the Greater London population has been burgeoning. But constantly pitching it as some sort of rare local apocalypse helps no one.

Dave Mail has declared himself CityMetric’s Liverpool City Region correspondent. He will be updating us on the brave new world of Liverpool City Region, mostly monthly, in ‘E-mail from Liverpool City Region’ and he is on twitter @davemail2017.