CHAPTER XLVJII. 



COOT SHOOTING. 



The coot her jet wing loved to lave, 

 Rock'd on the bosom of the sleepless wave." 



ROGERS' Pleasures of Memory. 



THIS remarkable bird (Fulica atra) offers splendid sport to the 

 fowler, sometimes taxing- his skill, his patience, and his cunning to 

 the utmost. They are more abundant at some places on the 

 coast than any other species of water-fowl. In some localities they 

 assemble in such large coverts as would appear almost incredible 

 to those who have not seen them. To a certain extent they are 

 migratory ; but many remain in this country throughout the year. 

 Their numbers increase tenfold in winter ; and they always seem to 

 prefer the southern parts of England to all other districts. But 

 the coot has, indeed, many peculiarities. 



" The coot, bald, else clean-black, that whiteness it doth bear 

 Upon the forehead star'd, the water hen doth wear, 

 Upon her little tail, in one small feather set."* 



Besides being very local in their habits, and making favourite resorts 

 of some particular waters, they are scarcely ever to be seen in neigh- 

 bouring waters, which may be within a few miles of their chosen 

 haunts, though offering equal advantages as regards food and 

 nesting. The river Stour, which ebbs and flows between the counties 

 of Essex and Suffolk, and runs many miles inland, watering some of 

 the fairest pastures of a luxuriant valley, the beauties of which have 

 been so faithfully portrayed by the late talented artist Constable, 

 was formerly a very favourite resort of coots ; so much, and exclu- 

 sively so, that the town of Manningtree, which stands on the south 

 bank of the river, but possesses little traditionary attraction in other 



* Dray ton's " Pol.y-olbion,'' song xrv. 



