The American Coot
By Walter L. Meagher July 25, 2008 San Miguel de Allende

America is at war, but the American Coot is peaceful. A group of five walk slowly on the wet mud near the dry presa shore, taking no fright at my presence; they have their own affairs to tend to and do so moderately, without hurry, without consternation.

I like them for this and can like them even though they dress all in black (“slate gray,” the books say) like mourners at a Victorian funeral, or more in keeping with the peaceful spirit I attribute to them, like Lincoln himself. White offsets black; for this reason the bill is white, bright in the mating season, less so in winter. The legs are placed in the middle of a chubby body, chicken-like according to one observer, a body that in its shape is more a ceramic bowl than a sleek athlete. This too contributes to modesty—not being divers or fast swimmers, coots keep to the margins of the pond. They are permanent residents in El Charco, nesting in tall reeds and other concealing vegetation at the presa’s edge; they are often seen on Sunday, the family compos
ing a small flotilla.