Just beyond the southern edge of Masirah Island, where the ocean begins to breathe in wider rhythms and the horizon opens into emptiness, lies Marsis—a flat, low-lying islet that is both fiercely protected and quietly extraordinary.
Though only a short distance from Masirah’s coast, Marsis is not open to the public. Access is strictly controlled, granted only with permission from environmental authorities. And for good reason: Marsis is a sanctuary, not just in name, but in every sense of the word.
It is alive with wings.
To set foot on Marsis—on the rare days when the sea is calm enough and permission has been granted—is to enter a realm ruled by birds. The soundscape is unlike anywhere else on the Omani coast: a chorus of screeches, whistles, flaps, and cries that rises with the wind. Thousands of birds, sometimes in synchronised flight, sometimes scattered like flecks of ink across the shore, make this islet their temporary home.
Amal al Junaibi, a local entrepreneur, explains: “Marsis Island may be tiny, but it plays a big role in protecting birdlife around Masirah. It’s one of the few places where seabirds can nest and lay their eggs undisturbed. Its quiet, untouched nature makes it a crucial sanctuary that reminds us how important it is to protect these fragile ecosystems.”
Ospreys perch sentinel-like on the rocks, scanning the water for fish. Western reef herons, both in white and slate-grey morphs, wade along the tidal edges. Caspian terns—the world’s largest terns—swoop with powerful grace, while Saunders’s terns, delicate and nimble, dart and dip closer to the surface. Sooty gulls, bold and noisy, claim the open flats, jostling for space.
Flamingos, tall and ghostly pink, are sometimes seen in the nearby shallows, especially during the cooler months, feeding in the tidal flats with surreal elegance. Their presence, though occasional, adds to the ecological richness of the area—reminders of the regional connectivity of Oman’s coastal ecosystems.
The diversity is staggering. Depending on the season, one might also spot whimbrels, ruddy turnstones, grey plovers, bar-tailed godwits, and greater sand plovers, many of them long-distance migrants resting before their journeys stretch onward across continents. In total, over 40 species of birds have been observed in and around Marsis, making it one of the richest birding sites in the region.
What makes Marsis exceptional is not just the sheer variety of birds—it’s the fact that so many of them nest here. The islet’s surface, seemingly barren at first glance, is in fact delicately patterned with shallow nests. Bird eggs—speckled, fragile, and perfectly camouflaged—are tucked into the sand, marking the beginning of countless lifecycles in this raw and vulnerable environment.
“Marsis Island is incredibly important for bird nesting,” said Andrew Wilson, founding director at Future Seas Global SPC, “the birds are incredibly sensitive to disturbance during the nesting season—birds scared from the ground by visitors can leave nests unguarded from predators, with the eggs exposed to direct sunlight... all things that interfere with survival during the incubation process.”
Marsis lies within the Masirah Island Important Bird Area, as recognised by BirdLife International. This designation reflects the islet’s critical role in supporting globally significant populations of seabirds and migratory species. Additional information about bird species, their nesting habits, and migration seasons is publicly available through BirdLife’s database and other conservation platforms.
Yet Marsis remains utterly undeveloped. There are no trails, no shelters, no structures. And that’s exactly how it must stay. The absence of human interference is what allows this place to function as a cradle of life. Conservationists know this. So do the local communities, who have long respected Marsis’s role in the ecosystem and the unspoken rule: this is not a place to visit casually, it is a place to protect.
As Oman deepens its environmental commitments and expands its understanding of marine and coastal ecosystems, Marsis stands as a vital marker of what can still be preserved when restraint and reverence guide policy. It is not an island for tourism. It is an island for existence; raw, feathered, and fleeting.
There are few places left like it. Fewer still that are both known and left alone. Marsis is one of them. A sanctuary of wings, eggs, and silence—a place where life gathers, rests, and begins again.
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