The Music of the Marsh 



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

 around your boat, even if you never have seen tlic 

 hiril. Like all marsh residents in excitement or 

 anger, the coot screams — a deep, guttural crj% most 

 uni)leasant, 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 he the connecting link be- 

 tween the wading and the swimming birds. It is 

 a queer comi)ound, having the compact body of 

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

 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 thougli a fairly 

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



Perhajjs this watchman, who for centuries has 

 announced to the marsh the first red peej) of com- 

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

 the black muck and water. Aside from the mourn- J^^''."'.'*'* 

 ing of the crow, and tlie l)righter black lit by Robe 

 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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