In Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” a seaman shoots an albatross that has been following his ship. The act curses the crew and the voyage, and as punishment the mariner is made to wear the dead bird around his neck. The reference and metaphor have taken on new significance as the albatrosses on the famous Midway Atoll in the Pacific Ocean literally and figuratively embody many of the environmental problems humans face.

The birds, which normally feed on squid and other animals that swim near the surface of the water at night, have instead been accidentally swallowing pieces of floating plastic that now litter the world’s oceans. The birds then return to the island, regurgitate the plastic and feed it to their young.

For three years, Seattle photographer Chris Jordan and a small crew of cinematographers have been filming the albatross living and breeding on the island for an upcoming documentary called Midway. Jordan says the albatross has been around for millions of years and for the majority of that time they didn’t have to distinguish what they could and could not ingest.

“Today, instead of coming home with a stomach full of squid these birds are coming home with a stomach full of lighters and other plastic objects,” he says.

John Klavitter, a wildlife biologist and the deputy refuge manager at Midway Atoll National Wildlife Refuge, says adult albatrosses have the ability to regurgitate objects in their stomachs but chicks don’t develop that reflex until they are about four and a half months old. As a result the chicks’ stomachs are filling up with more plastic than food.

Often times, he says, the plastic punctures the bird’s stomachs, creating life-threatening injuries. Other times they die of dehydration, starvation or poisonous toxicity.

“The plastic often acts like a magnet for toxins and contaminants floating out in the ocean,” he says.

To put it into perspective Klavitter says that in total, 20 tons of manmade debris ends up on Midway each year and five tons of that is the plastic fed to the chicks.

“I’ve stood over many of the birds as they died,” says Jordan, who has traveled to the island several times and expects to complete the film next year. “One time we watched a bird thrash around and after it died we opened it up and discovered a fishing float inside its throat which had caused it to choke to death.”

Jordan says the albatrosses on Midway already have a relatively high rates of chick mortality because the young ones often drown or die from environmental challenges, like high heat or rainstorms that bring on hypothermia.

Those that die naturally litter the island, but so too do the carcasses of thousands that died from ingesting plastic. Their feathers and bones rot away around neat piles of plastic that used to sit in their stomach, creating a morbid visual frame of the pollution’s effects.

Those carcasses are actually the reason Jordan first came to Midway. He is a photographer by trade and shot a series of the dead albatross bodies that has gained notoriety on its own (displayed in the gallery above).

Klavitter says that in addition to the growth of plastic pollution the albatrosses actually face several other challenges. Thousands have died, he says, by getting caught on the hooks set out by fishing vessels. The birds already cover thousands of miles in search of food each year and might have to look farther afield as ocean temperatures rise enough to push their food sources farther north.

Because they travel so far they are an “incredible indicator species,” he says. “And when you see large decline in the albatross population that is a huge wakeup call that something is happening to our planet.”

But there is more to the story than just dying birds, says Jordan, which is why he decided to make the film. In addition to documenting the death of the birds he says he wanted to capture what he sees as the essential beauty of the bird when it’s alive.

The albatrosses are known for their mating dance and have inspired many in the aviation industry with their enormous wing span. Using video, Jordan says he was able to capture the animal’s grace and help create a more rounded story.

“I quickly realized that taking still photographs wasn’t going to do it justice,” he says.

Because many of the birds have never seen a human and have no other land predators they aren’t afraid when Jordan or anyone in his crew approaches them with a camera. In making the film Jordan says he’s literally been so close to a hatching baby that the mom’s wing was resting on his head.

“The only thing they have to fear is sharks cruising around in the ocean and they learn that pretty quickly,” says Klavitter.

Using high-definition cameras including the RED EPIC, Jordan says he’s trying to craft a film that is less of a straight documentary and more of a lyrical tribute to the albatrosses, in the same vain as Winged Migration.

“There is a spoon fed approach to documentary film that just didn’t feel right or this story,” he says.

Through a successful Kickstarter campaign, Jordan and his team recently raised over $112,000, some of which will be used to pay for the editing services of editor Sabine Emiliani, who has a long resume that includes March of the Penguins.

Ultimately, Jordan says he doesn’t see the project as an environmental outcry meant to just save the birds. He wants to protect the albatrosses on Midway, but more than that he hopes the film and photos help people realize their role in the potential disaster playing out across the oceans.

Jordan says he’s thought a lot about the power of grief and hopes that if people can internalize the sense of sorrow and loss that pervades the project than they’ll be motivated to make a real and lasting change, not only for the birds, but also for themselves and the future of the planet.

“The story of Midway is powerful medicine,” he says. “And in the end I’m hoping this helps us move toward a fundamental shift in how we approach the world.”

All Photos: Chris Jordan