xiy 



THE AMERICAN COOT 



AFTER the ducks had long stopped nesting along 

 Wymore's Branch, another bird remained that we 

 children were taught to call the fish duck. This hird was 

 also known as the mud hen, I presume because it was usu- 

 ally found paddling around in the mud at the edge of the 

 streams or near the shores of ponds ; or it may have been 

 because we occasionally found its nest among the rabbit 

 ears or cat-tails where the water had dried up, leaving 

 mud so deep that we youngsters had to roll our pants' 

 legs above our knees to get to the nest. They were noisy 

 birds, keeping up a clamor day and night. The note was 

 a sort of a "Coo-coo-coo-coo-coo-coo." The first note 

 always began on a high key and while the rest were lower 

 it seemed as if the bird was in a great hurry to get through 

 with his song. I used to say that if I were a bird and 

 could sing no better than that I would want to get through 

 with it, too, but that it seemed to me I would keep still in 

 the first place. 



The last of these birds I ever saw on Wymore's Branch 

 were in the little pool where I became acquainted with 

 the shitepoke. I was trudging through the woods with a 

 twenty-two caliber rifle under the impression that I was 

 hunting. When on such expeditions I occasionally car- 



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