Aggressive and inconsiderate human encroachment 
does not seem to have robbed the city marsh of its 
popularity as a place for assembling and organising 
the southward journey. Swallows have gathered and 
departed. The Plovers and Sandpipers have followed 
in spite of the attacks that left them with depleted 
numbers. Blackbirds are gathering, but the most 
active sojourners are a few broods of Coots hiding 
in the sheltering banks of Rushes and sometimes 
freely feeding in the open water. The Coot is the 
largest of the birds that spend the summer hiding in 
the Rushes and swimming about over the clogged and 
weedy marsh. It has the large body and small head 
of its less conspicuous relatives, and its white bill 
and wing bar distinguish it from the Florida Gallinule, 
both being familiarly and fittingly known as Mud 
Hens, Banks of dense Rushes, where both wading 
and canoeing are impossible, afford the Coots a 
comfortable home and safe retreat. They still nest 
in the marsh occasionally, regardless of the city's 
encroaching population, and it is not till the inevitable 
182 
