The first Australian street to glow with electric lighting was in Waratah, Tasmania, in 1886.
Nearly 140 years later there are more than 2.5 million street lights across the country, and some 10 million houses and apartments.
The effect of so much illumination in urban centres blocks our view of the stars, a phenomenon known as light pollution.
It also brings changes and challenges to the wildlife sharing our towns and cities.
Let's take a look at how animals are faring on a spring evening on the east coast of Australia …
The glider
A squirrel glider (Petaurus norfolcensis) stirs within its eucalypt tree den after sunset.
Looking like the brushy-tailed love child of a possum and a child's kite, it rises from a bed of leaves with a yawn and climbs to the exit of the hollow it shares with a small social group.
This tree hollow took more than 100 years to form in a gnarled lump that was once the base of an old branch.
The entry hole is big enough to squeeze through, but small enough to stay out of reach of predators.
The need to feed is on the glider's mind as it digs its claws into the outer trunk of the tree to take stock from its elevated position.
Its large, light-sensitive eyes evolved to survey the darkness.
There's a new moon, and it would be dark in this small patch of remnant bushland if not for the surrounding suburbia.
The glider's territory takes in a hectare of bush reserve and a network of street and yard trees fragmented by well-lit roads and homes.
Sticking to the shadows, the glider launches from tree to tree in the bush reserve. Outstretched flaps of skin between its arms and legs can carry it in a glide for a good 50 metres.
It spends most of the evening foraging for insects, pollen and nectar.
The scent of a red ironbark, which has started to flower, tugs at the glider's senses.
It's in the front yard of a house across the street, and out of gliding range.
The house is dark but the street is lit.
The bush reserve is a good source of food but sometimes the glider needs to venture outside its boundaries.
And there are no rope bridges or other types of wildlife crossings for the glider to use.
Crossing in the light is hard for the glider. It can't see well, and the road brings the danger of cars.
Cats, foxes and owls — well suited to see in low-lit and bright conditions — would be happy to make the glider into a meal.
But the call of the nectar is strong, so the glider takes its chances.
It darts across the deserted street to the ironbark.
Thankfully there is no flood or sensor lighting in the yard and the glider scales the tree.
It's happy to eat its fill of nectar in its relatively dark location.
But two houses down, moths and bugs are hypnotised by outdoor lighting.
The moth
Something's gone terribly wrong for a bogong moth (Agrotis infusa) which finds itself flying in circles under an LED light on a verandah.
Born on the Darling Downs of Queensland, the mottled grey-brown moth is about 3 centimetres long with a 5cm wingspan.
It should be making its first migration 1,000 kilometres south to the Australian Alps to spend the summer, in a cave, in a mostly dormant state called aestivation.
The moth has never been to the Alps but something in its smaller-than-a-rice-grain brain tells it how to get there.
A descendant of the 0.5 per cent of the population that survived Australia's last major drought in 2017, this moth has so far been lucky.
It managed to find enough pesticide-free food as a caterpillar to make it to metamorphosis and set off on its big journey.
But westerly winds have blown the tiny nocturnal traveller towards the coast and into a giant light trap.
The moth wants to get back on the right path but the glow of suburbs becomes a distraction.
A suburban home's outdoor lights are an irresistible lure.
The moth spirals under the white-blue light, its internal GPS for migration malfunctioning.
All around, disorientated insects amass at the light, and some fall to the ground and nearby lawn.
The bogong moth too finds itself on the ground, easy pickings for the frogs, lizards and other predators taking advantage of the novel food source.
The magpie
A nesting magpie (Gymnorhina tibicen) further down the street should be getting its 10 hours of sleep to recharge for the day to come.
After a long day of foraging backyards for grubs and bugs, her eyes are weary.
But instead of drifting off, she's restless.
White-blue light from new street lamps and nearby homes disrupt her attempts at getting some shut-eye from her perch in a verge tree.
Light on the white-blue end of the colour temperature spectrum boosts alertness for humans, but also messes with melatonin production and sleep cycles.
For the magpie, the combination of street and house lighting leads to fragmented and less intense sleep.
Magpies, like humans, cycle between two states of sleep known as non-rapid eye movement (NREM) and rapid eye movement (REM).
Falling asleep and waking over and over, the magpie prioritises NREM over REM-type sleep.
She'll try to catch up during her noon nap the next day, but will struggle to get enough REM sleep.
Ultimately, she puts up with the lights.
If she is lucky, the abundance of food in the city might compensate for the disruptions of urban living.
How to offset your lighting impacts
The complex effects of light pollution in urban and wild environments is a growing research area with many unknowns.
Deakin University behavioural ecologist Anne Aulsebrook said there are still questions about how well birds cope in the long term.
"There's a small subset of birds you find wherever you go to any city in Australia and then there's all the birds you never see.
"It's the ones we see in cities can cope and the ones we're not seeing which can't."
But we do know the combination of noise, light and development has certainly changed the nature of night-time landscapes in parts of Australia.
Natural habitat loss creates competition among remaining species, and this could be as damaging as excessive predation, University of Queensland community wildlife ecologist Loren Fardell said.
"This means that human residents need to be more considerate that their activities, including sound and light, directly impact the wildlife food webs around them.
"Because urban areas can sometimes be the best or only habitat available for native wildlife.
"Making wildlife-friendly urban habitats allows for larger habitat ranges for wildlife and can facilitate connectivity across the landscape, allowing population growth and conservation by increasing genetic diversity."
Here are some tips for tackling light pollution and supporting wildlife at home:
- turn your lights off and draw your curtains
- install lights that are angled down to the area you need to light
- use warm-coloured light, which can be less impactful on some species
- turn your solar LED lights off
- shield your outdoor lights
- don't angle lights at trees to leave dark refuges for fauna
- for bogong moths, plant flowers which can provide energy during their migration and reduce pesticide use
- contribute to citizen science projects such as Moth Tracker to fill knowledge gaps and aid conservation efforts.
With thanks to Anne Aulsebrook (Deakin University), Loren Fardell (University of Queensland), Robin Johnsson (Franklin and Marshall College),Damian Michael (Charles Sturt University) and Kate Pearce (Zoos Victoria) who helped guide the research-based scenarios.
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