302 THE COOT. 



hither and thither, according as the wind blows ; or, if inter- 

 woven with reeds or bushes close to the water, of being covered, 

 should the waters be raised by floods. But the Coot is appar- 

 ently well aware of these possibilities, and accordingly guards 

 against them : preventing the nests being carried away by 

 ingeniously fastening the materials of which they are made to 

 the rushes or osiers near them ; but at the same time these 

 fastenings are of such a nature as to allow of the nests rising 

 with the water, so that no ordinary flood would expose them 

 to the danger of immersion. The Coot, like the Water-hen, 

 covers her nest, and if not so effectually, yet with a most 

 extraordinary rapidity. We have repeatedly watched a Coot 

 quietly sitting on her nest ; if the boat approaches, she rises, 

 and immediately begins pecking away, right and left, which 

 she continues to do till the enemy is so near, that she is com- 

 pelled to decamp for her own preservation. In this short 

 time, however, she almost always contrives to cover her eggs ; 

 and though the nest itself remains a very conspicuous object, 

 a careless observer might pass it as deserted and empty. 



When the young are hatched, they look more like little 

 puff-balls than the bodies of birds, with their bright red heads 

 sticking out like handles. For some days they lead a weary 

 life, exposed as they are to the attacks of pike, and we believe 

 of rats, which devour numbers of them, in spite of the flounc- 

 ings and flappings of the poor mother, who in vain tries to 

 drive away the intruder. It is surprising, indeed, how any 

 of them escape ; for though they are tolerably active, no efforts 

 of theirs are sufficient to elude the swift, unerring, open- 

 mouthed dart of a voracious pike. Against other enemies 

 they can make a better defence ; and we have frequently wit- 

 nessed the beautiful instinct with which they manage to elude 

 pursuit. On seeing a fleet of these little red-headed floaters, 

 paddling away in the rear of their two velvet-coated parents, 

 we have often given chase. It is not till the danger of capture 

 becomes imminent that the old ones desert their charge, first 

 giving the convoy a signal to disperse by a few short but most 

 expressive clucks. When hard pressed, the young bird dives, 

 and, if the water is clear, may be traced, working away with 



