The Music of the Marsh 



"Pitts, pitts!" as one you frequentlj'- have lieard 

 around your boat, even if j^ou never have seen the 

 bird. Like all marsh residents in exeitement or 

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

 unpleasant, and music that can be avoided easilj^; 

 for he will not perform it unless you trample on 

 his rights and j)rovoke him. 



The coot aj^pears 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 jjleasuring among the reeds and 

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

 most as exj^ert a diver as the grebe, Init 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- Herald's 

 ing of the crow, and the brighter 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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