364 BULLETIN 135, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



Charles W. Townseud has noted that it folds its toes as it lifts its 

 foot. Audubon apparenth'' had never seen it dive, but it is now well 

 known to be a good diver, to obtain its food and to escape its ene- 

 mies. Dr. Townsend (1905) says that it "often goes under water 

 with very little effort; at other times it leaps clear of the water like 

 a grebe, with its wings pressed close to its sides, its body describing 

 an arc, and the head entering as the feet leave the water. " 



I have often observed the peculiar antics of a coot when its nest is 

 approached; with head lowered until the bill almost touches the 

 water and with wings elevated behind like a swan's, it paddles about 

 splashing loudly and grunting a loud guttural "kruk, kruk, kruk"; 

 it often "backs water" vigorously with both feet, raising the body 

 backwards out of the water. Sometimes it stands upright on its 

 hind quarters, flapping its wings and splashing with both feet. Such 

 noisy demonstrations may be due to nervous excitement or may be 

 intended to scare us away. 



Coots associate on their breeding grounds and in their winter quar- 

 ters with various species of ducks, with which they mingle freely and 

 never seem to quarrel. But with members of their own species they 

 are often very pugnacious and sometimes murderous. F. W. Hen- 

 shaw (1918) tells the following remarkable story: 



Our boathouse rests in a cut opening out on Butte Slough, in Calusa County. 

 California. Between the end of the boathouse and the current of the slough, there 

 are 60 or 80 feet of still water; three mud hens {Fulica americana) have taken 

 possession of this spot. They have grown quite tame; not only do they come 

 up to the boathouse for their food, but when hungry swim up and are clamor- 

 •ousljr insistent with their "put-put-put." The men have frequently told me that 

 they were murderous fighters against their own kind, and one day I was a wit- 

 ness of such a fight. A strange mud hen swam from the creek into the quiet 

 water. The first of the three to see him attacked the stranger at once, "putting" 

 harshly, and the intruder gave battle without the slightest attempt to retreat. 

 They pecked at each other savagely. The other two boathouse mud hens swam 

 up to the fray, one of them joining in, the other, the smallest of the three and 

 probably the female, simply looking on. In time they pecked the strange mud 

 hen into a state of exhaustion. It was manifestly too weak to fly, but tried to 

 make its escape by swimming. They followed it up, and one actually stood on 

 its body while the other held its head under the water until it was dead. When 

 satisfied of this, they left it. 



Coots indulge in quite a variety of grunting, croaking, and squawk- 

 ing notes and are responsible for most of the noise coming from the 

 innermost recesses of a slough or tule swamp. Rev. J. II. Langille 



(1884) says: 



It is decidedly a noisy bird, its "coo-coo-coo-coo-coo" being heard both 

 day and night, the first note being prolonged on a much higher key, while the 

 rest are somewhat accelerated. It will often squack similar to a duck, and has 

 other notes too unique and difficult of description to be given here. 



