The Eastern Corniche, or Corniche Al Qurm (Mangrove Corniche), that runs along the eastern side of Abu Dhabi island is, to my mind, one of the most pleasant parts of our capital city. Despite the continual noise of the traffic, the view across the lagoon to the extensive forest of mangrove trees that lie beyond is much to be valued, a real “green lung” for residents to gaze upon and enjoy. Not surprisingly, it’s a favourite place in cooler weather for a stroll, a jog or a picnic.

Around 20 years ago, the late President, Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, was sitting in the adjacent Qasr Al Bahr (Beach Palace) one Thursday night, and talk turned to the mangroves, trees that he loved greatly. What wildlife lived there? he wondered. Were there any honey bees, producing well-filled combs of honey? Among those present was a younger member of the ruling family. “I know someone who can tell you,” said he.

And so it was that the next morning, after a late night phone call and some early morning preparations, including getting a boat to the Corniche, the younger Sheikh and I were taken across to land on the edge of the mangroves. This was a chance I couldn’t afford to miss. Until a few years earlier, the area could be visited easily. Since the Eastern Corniche had not been built and the tidal channel had not been dredged all the way along to the Beach Palace, it was possible to wander across at low tide and I frequently did so. After the channel had been dredged, access was only possible by boat, and police launches discouraged any visits.

Although the area beneath the mangroves is flooded at high tide, we were lucky. It was low tide. We waded ashore, with our feet and calves sinking deep into the mud, and then along some of the little tidal channels that penetrate far into the forest. We found honeycombs and photographed them, disturbed a variety of birds, and had an altogether very muddy morning. The Sheikh made his apologies and left – he had to get back for Friday prayers – but I pressed on, enjoying the experience of once again being in the heart of the mangroves.

After a few hours, I emerged, called over the boatman, who had been waiting patiently, and went home. After a quick shower, I raced to a photographic shop, got the pictures developed (this was long before digital cameras had been invented) and delivered a set of prints of the mangroves, and the honeycombs, to the Sheikh who had accompanied me. That night, he went to Sheikh Zayed and showed him the photographs. The President’s immediate response was to order that the whole of the Eastern Corniche mangroves be maintained as a “protected area”. The police patrols were stepped up, the collecting of shellfish by people who swam across to the mud-flats at low tide was stopped and, or so it appeared, the preservation of the area was secured.

Today, though, the area is once again under threat from development. At its inner end, a large residential property development is under way (I hope someone will tell intending purchasers about the biting flies that dwell among the trees). It is no longer possible to walk all the way from opposite the Beach Palace several kilometres towards the electricity sub-station at the inland end, with placards and barriers preventing access. Plans are being mooted, I hear, for further development projects that would split the forest into fragments between newly-cut channels, with houses and jetties by the waterside.

Over the years, relatively little scientific study has been done of this mangrove forest, one of the largest in the Emirates, but enough information is available to show that it is of enormous significance in terms of the ecology and biodiversity of the greater Abu Dhabi area.

The shallow channels beneath the trees are nursery grounds for many species of fish, including some which, when mature, are important commercial species. Along the mudflats at low tide, hundreds of migrant wading birds gather during the cooler months, preying on the copious supplies of food, while the occasional eagle and harrier prey, in turn, on smaller birds. Several species breed in the trees, some, like the striated heron, perhaps more numerous here than anywhere else in the Emirate of Abu Dhabi.

Thousands of birds go to roost there every night, including, in winter, more than a hundred cattle egrets, whose plumage stands out like great white flowers on the trees, bringing pleasure to those with an eye to see them. Hump-backed dolphins are occasionally seen in the channel between the Corniche road and the mangroves. And then, of course, there are the bees, and the butterflies, and a whole host of insects, crabs, and other wildlife. It really is a remarkable place.

On the far side of the mangroves, out of sight of the city, there are other areas of importance for wildlife too, though these have been less well researched. If properly studied, these parts of the mangroves are likely to prove of equal, perhaps greater, importance in terms of the overall ecological significance of the forest. They too, with their adjacent inter-tidal flats, small sandbanks and small islands, on some of which dozens, perhaps hundreds of seabirds breed in summer, are now also confronted by the challenge of development.

In the Plan Abu Dhabi 2030 urban planning structure, the whole area of the Eastern Lagoon mangroves is clearly identified in green, meaning “open space”, while the Environmental Framework Policies of the Plan indicate the necessity of delineating and protecting a National Park for the greater Abu Dhabi area (“fully preserved in the natural state”). I can think of few areas immediately adjacent to Abu Dhabi that deserve such a designation, but this is one of them.

Yes, more research needs to be done on the ecological importance of the Eastern Lagoon mangroves, to determine the full extent of the role that they play in the eco-diversity of the capital area. More work needs to be done, too, on the way they are connected to, and will be affected by, the various development projects to the east. A detailed proposal is now being drawn up by the relevant Government bodies to recommend the designation of the area as a National Park. But there is sufficient information already available, in my view, to justify a decision – and a rapid one - that what remains of the Eastern Lagoon mangroves and their adjacent inter-tidal flats and tidal channels should once again enjoy the protected status originally conferred on them by Sheikh Zayed a couple of decades ago.

A shorter version of this article first appeared in The National on 1st October 2008. Their permission to reproduce it is gratefully acknowledged.