THE AMERICAN COOT. 



I have a number of names : 

 Mud Hen, Crow Duck, and Blue 

 Peter. It's all the same to me. 

 What's in a name anyway ? 

 Wouldn't a rose smell just as 

 sweet if it were named Blue 

 Peter, too ? 



W^ell I am an aquatic bird, 

 and can quack with the best of 

 them and swim with them, too. 

 I go along beautifully on the 

 water. My feet are very remark- 

 able, the toes being fringed by 

 a membrane which assists me 

 greatly in swimming as well as 

 walking over the ooze. I call 

 them my mud-boards. 



Such a lovely little thing as I 

 was when I came out of my 

 shell ! that is what people, who 

 saw me at that time, say. My 

 down was jet-black and my 

 head a bright orange-scarlet 

 mixed with purple and blue. 

 I wish I looked half as hand- 

 some now, but you can't paddle 

 around in the mud all day and 

 keep clean. That is I can't. 

 My coat is a sooty-black now 

 and I won't be able to change it 

 as long as I live. 



Do you see that bare patch on 

 my forehead! W^ell, that ac- 

 counts for some people's calling 

 me a ^'Bald-headed Coot." 

 Maybe you will be called that 

 some day, too. 



I don't often come to dry land, 

 but when I do I march along 

 very gracefully. I can fly, too, 

 though my wings do appear too 

 short for my size. I just stretch 

 my legs out behind my stumpy 

 tail, spread my wings, and away 

 I go. 



I swim easily too, with a 

 peculiar bobbing motion of my 

 head and neck. You should 

 just see a lot of us patter over 

 the water, using our feet as 

 much as our wings, when 

 alarmed. And such a cackling 

 as we do keep up! W^hy, you 

 can hear us quite half a mile. 



There is one thing about my 

 face I should like to have 

 changed and that is my nose — 

 my bill I mean. It is an ivory- 

 white and no matter how much 

 I stick it in the mud it will stay 

 white. It is a good mark, you 

 see, for a man with a gun, and I 

 am dreadfully afraid I shall 

 be shot some day. I have 

 seen a number of my mates 

 popped over just on account of 

 their white bills. 



I visit you in April and leave 

 you in November when the 

 streams freeze over. I hope you 

 will have pleasant weather next 

 month, for I am making prepara- 

 tion to visit you then. 



96 



