The Music of the Marsh 



"Pitts, pitts!" as one you frequently have heard 

 around your boat, even if you never have seen the 

 bird. Like all marsh residents in excitement or 

 anger > the coot screams a deep, guttural cry, most 

 unpleasant, and music that can be avoided easily; 

 for he will not perform it unless you trample on 

 his rights and provoke him. 



The coot appears to be the connecting link be- 

 tween the wading and the swimming birds. It is 

 a queer compound, having the compact body of 

 the grain-eater, the long, bare legs of the wader, 

 and the lobed feet of a swimmer. It is a true 

 marsh bird, avoiding lakes and running water, 

 breeding and pleasuring among the reeds and 

 rushes, and swimming in the open pools. It is al- 

 most as expert a diver as the grebe, but the lobed 

 feet that make it such a splendid swimmer are 

 slightly awkward on land; and though a fairly 

 good runner, it is not nearly so agile as the rail. 



Perhaps this watchman, who for centuries has 

 announced to the marsh the first red peep of com- 

 ing day, has tinged his coat by long contact with The 

 the black muck and water. Aside from the mourn- S e f r . al . d ! s 

 ing of the crow, and the brighter black lit by Ro b e 

 iridescent gleams of the blackbird, the coot is 

 the most somber-robed musician of the marsh. 

 He wears a suit of dark steel-gray, shading to 

 black on the wings and tail. The head-feather- 

 ing is fine to the touch as moleskin, and of vel- 



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