By Heidi J. Auman, Ph.D.
Note: All photos provided by Heidi
When I first stepped off the military C-141 onto the hot tarmac of Sand Island, Midway Atoll in 1993, I thought I understood what it meant to study seabirds. As a biologist, I toiled on remote islands, and knew the rhythms of fieldwork. But nothing prepared me for the sheer joy, heartbreak, and overwhelming scale of living among hundreds of thousands of albatrosses on this isolated speck of sand in the North Pacific.
For most of seven years (1993-2000), Midway was my home, research station, and window into one of the most striking examples of how human activities reach even the most isolated ecosystems. My work there added to a growing body of evidence showing that our impacts reach even the farthest corners of the Earth.
A Front‑Row Seat to a Global Problem
My research focused on ingestion of plastic debris by albatrosses and the toxicological imprint left behind in their eggs, blood, and other tissues. Even by the early 1990s, it was clear that pollution was not a distant or abstract issue. It was literally inside these birds. I led some of the pioneering work, documenting the quantities and effects of plastic junk fed to chicks by their parents, who unknowingly collected it along their vast ocean journeys.
Inside the chicks lay the scattered remnants of our modern world — bottle caps, discarded lighters, bits of toys, and vivid fragments of plastic. Often, chicks were so chock-a-block with debris that their stomachs had little room left for food. An astonishing 97% of the Laysan albatross chicks I necropsied had plastic debris in them – often clattering handfuls of it.
Large masses of ingested plastic can physically displace food in a chick’s stomach, reducing the space available for nutritious prey and the water that normally accompanies it. Studies at Midway Atoll have shown that high plastic loads contribute to lower water intake and poorer body condition in chicks, which increases risk of death during the fledging period. Sharp fragments can puncture or scrape the stomach lining, while long, rigid items (think toothbrushes) may lodge sideways, interfering with the chick’s ability to vomit the bolus of squid beaks typically thrown up before fledging. Larger pieces can block the esophagus or gizzard, making food passage even more difficult.
I discovered certain items that looked like chewed gum – partially burned plastic. Incomplete burning of materials such as PVC can release dioxins and furans, highly toxic compounds that can accumulate in marine food webs. In addition to these combustion by‑products, plastics floating at sea adsorb persistent organic pollutants and trace metals, which are then transferred to chicks when consumed.
Toxicology: What Happens After Ingestion
Consequently, plastic ingestion is not just a physical hazard. Research has linked plastic consumption in albatrosses to higher contaminant burdens and increased risk of death. With my coworkers, I explored how these toxic residues accumulate in tissues and influence chick and egg development. Even we were shocked to discover that Black-footed Albatross had higher concentrations of total PCBs in their blood than bald eagles living along the heavily polluted Great Lakes.
Although the field has expanded dramatically since those early days, our work on Midway provided some of the first detailed insights into how plastics and contaminants intersect in a real‑world wildlife population.
Life Among the Birds
Scientific discoveries are one thing, but living with the birds is another entirely. The albatrosses of Midway are not data points, and we lived alongside each other cheek-to-beak. Their passionate cacophony became the soundtrack of my days and nights, and I thrived in their company.
Yet the reminders of human impacts were constant. Everywhere I walked, I encountered the remains of chicks whose bony carcasses were packed with colorful plastic. The sight was jarring every time – a visceral reminder that the problem was not theoretical. It was right there at my feet.
Why Midway Still Matters
Today, plastic pollution is widely recognized as a global crisis, and seabirds remain among the most affected wildlife groups. Research continues to reveal high rates of ingestion across species worldwide, including work I later contributed to on Tasmanian shearwaters.
But Midway Atoll holds a unique place in this story. It is both a sanctuary and a warning — a place where the resilience of wildlife meets the consequences of human consumption.
The albatrosses of Midway are extraordinary survivors. They navigate thousands of miles of open ocean, return faithfully to their nesting sites, and raise their chicks in an environment that has changed dramatically since their ancestors first evolved. Their struggle with plastic pollution is not a failure of the birds. It is a mirror held up to us, reflecting a consumer culture that has seeped into even the most far-flung reaches of our planet.
Looking Back—and Forward
When I think about my years on Midway, I remember the science, of course: the ghastly necropsies, the abandoned egg assessment, the scorching days in the field banding thousands of fledglings, the meticulous reproductive surveys, and taking blood samples from birds often older than I was. My arms still bear a blizzard of scars from the more pugnacious albatrosses.
But I also remember the heart-stopping beauty: a dazzling swoop of archangel wings, the tender egg-talk benedictions, and the quiet harmony of sitting among their peaceable souls as they went about their ancient rituals.
As a member of the FOMA, I’m grateful to share my stories and continue advocating for the birds that etched themselves into my heart. The challenges they face are immense, but so is their capacity to inspire us to do better.
Dr. Heidi Auman served on the FOMA board from 2020 to 2025 and has worked as a biologist for most of the past 35 years, focusing on seabird ecology. Her research is global in nature with a preference for isolated islands, including those of the U.S./Canadian Great Lakes, sub-tropical Midway Atoll, sub-Antarctic Heard Island, and Tasmania. Her specializations focus upon human impacts on seabirds – plastic ingestion, toxicology, disturbance, physiology, urbanization, and diet. Her work has demonstrated that our ecological footprint reaches even the most remote ecosystems, often with disturbing consequences. She wrote a children’s book, Garbage Guts, to educate the next generation about plastic pollution.