I have a soft spot for coots, because almost 60 years ago, when I was a young child, they kick-started my life as a birder.
As I mentioned in an early Guardian column, this began when my mother took me down to feed the birds by the River Thames at Laleham, and I asked her what those “funny black ducks” were.
She didn’t know, but when we got home, she recalled that we had a copy of The Observer’s Book of Birds. Reading this, I discovered that they weren’t ducks at all but members of the rail family.
Today, a lifetime later, I come across coots whenever I visit the Avalon Marshes. Yet like many birders, I often ignore them in favour of more glamorous species. But coots are always worth a closer look.
Back in the 1990s, while filming at Wraysbury gravel pits with Bill Oddie, we noticed that every time we saw a coot, there was usually a gadwall or two close by. We assumed the gadwalls were waiting for the coots to return to the surface and then feeding on aquatic plants they had inadvertently disturbed.
In fact, the truth is far darker than we first thought. It seems that gadwalls are not passive feeders but occasionally steal food directly from the coots – a behaviour known as kleptoparasitism. Given that coots are famously aggressive, and gadwalls look so sweet and innocent, that really is a surprise.
