Ducks, Rails, and the Great Identity Crisis: A Quick Take on Waterfowl Confusion 

by Bridget Donohue

On my regular walks around the University of Notre Dame lakes, I take in the usual sights: students jogging, squirrels plotting world domination, and—especially in winter—ducks. Lots of ducks. These lakes don’t freeze over, making them a prime winter hangout for all sorts of waterfowl. Mallards, mergansers, and the occasional pintail bob along the surface, blissfully ignoring the bitter Midwestern cold. 

A Mysterious Bird 

One day I saw what I thought was a coot, but I wasn’t sure. So I did what any amateur birder would do—I googled “gray duck with a black head and white beak.” That led me straight into the world of greater and lesser scaup, which, to my surprise, were not at all what I was looking at. Before you know it, I was in way too deep, sorting through the intricacies of waterfowl classification, anatomical differences, and even some very passionate opinions on duck hunting forums. 

The Scaup: Greater vs. Lesser 

Since I initially thought my mystery bird might be a scaup, I took a moment to appreciate these sleek-looking birds. Scaups are diving ducks, meaning they plunge beneath the surface in search of mollusks and aquatic plants rather than just dabbling along the edges like a mallard. 

The greater scaup (Aythya marila) and the lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) look remarkably similar, and even seasoned birders sometimes struggle to tell them apart. Both have black heads (which can appear iridescent green or purple in the right light), bright white beaks, and finely patterned gray backs that look almost like rippled water when seen from a distance. The key difference is in the shape of the head: the greater scaup has a rounder, more dome-like head, while the lesser scaup’s head has a more noticeable peak toward the back. 

I’ve never actually spotted a scaup in the wild, but the ones in my bird books looked far more elegant than whatever I’d seen on the lake that day.

The Coot: Squat, Ugly, and Misunderstood 

Upon further research, I found that I was initially correct in my assumption that what I saw was a coot (Fulica americana), a bird that is, to put it kindly, not a picture of grace. It is squat, round-bodied, and always looks slightly disgruntled. Unlike the streamlined scaup, which appears to glide effortlessly through the water, a coot moves with a certain awkward determination, as though it’s trying very hard to be a scaup. 

Coots are mostly dark gray or black, with a stubby white beak that contrasts starkly against their sooty bodies. Their legs are greenish, and their feet only add to their overall awkwardness. If ducks are the graceful dancers of the water, coots are the bumbling toddlers just learning to walk.

And yet, despite their inelegance, coots are scrappy survivors. They thrive in marshes, lakes, and ponds across North America and aren’t nearly as wary as many ducks. You can often spot them swimming right alongside mallards, completely unaware—or perhaps willfully indifferent—to the fact that they are not, in fact, ducks. 

Ducks vs. Coots: The Great Divide 

I eventually discovered that coots aren’t ducks at all. They just blend in the way a toupee blends in—convincing from a distance, questionable up close. Ducks belong to the Anatidae family, while coots are in the Rallidae family, which means they are technically rails. In a genealogical sense, they’re more closely related to cranes than to mallards. But try telling that to a coot surrounded by actual ducks. 

One of the easiest ways to tell them apart is to look at their feet. Ducks have fully webbed feet—paddles designed for efficient swimming. Coots, on the other hand, have lobed toes with strange, flappy skin that helps them paddle but also lets them clamber awkwardly onto land. Then there’s the beak: ducks have broad, flat bills suited for dabbling and filtering food. Coots have short, sharp beaks, more suited for pecking than scooping. Functionally, they have more in common with chickens than with their pond-mates.

Other Common Rails 

Rails, as a group, are known for their secretive nature, often slipping through dense marsh vegetation unseen. The coot, however, is the black sheep of the family—or rather, the black duck-looking rail of the family. Instead of hiding, it brazenly paddles through open water, unbothered by the company of actual ducks.

Since coots are technically rails, I started wondering what other rails might be lurking out there, quietly defying expectations. I easily found out from another quick Google search. 

• Common Gallinule (Gallinula galeata): Sometimes mistaken for a coot, this rail has a bright red beak with a yellow tip and a more slender build. It also walks with a bit more dignity—though not much. 

• Virginia Rail (Rallus limicola): A small, secretive marsh bird with a long, slightly curved bill, designed for probing mud in search of food. Unlike the coot, it is more likely to be heard than seen. 

• Sora (Porzana carolina): A compact little rail with a short, bright yellow bill and a knack for disappearing into dense marsh vegetation. 

Rails seem perpetually caught between two worlds—never quite as graceful as ducks, never quite as terrestrial as shorebirds. They march (or paddle) to the beat of their own drum, and the coot is no exception. It occupies its peculiar niche, neither elegant nor sleek, but always determined, adaptable, and unapologetically itself. 

In recognition of the coot’s understated charm, I’ve written a haiku capturing a quiet moment in its often overlooked existence. Next time you see one, perhaps you’ll see past its ungainly exterior to appreciate the quirky dignity of this misunderstood bird. 

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Bridget Donohue spent 35 years teaching at a private high school, where she led seminars on Scripture, history, and literature and served as an advisor for curriculum development. After retiring, she founded Project Dignity, where she now serves as the Executive Director, helping refugees build new lives in the United States. Bridget is also an editor for Veritas Journal. In her free time, she enjoys hiking, strolling the neighborhood with her mission-driven puppy, Miss Maudie, and cherishing time with friends and family.

header image: “Coots and Fog“ by blachswan is licensed under CC BY 2.0. (cropped)

• “Lesser Scaup“ by nicolebeaulac is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0. (cropped)
• “Greater Scaup Drake LBI“ by Chuck Homler d/b/a Focus On Wildlife is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0. (cropped)
• “Two Coots“ by TexasEagle is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0. (cropped)
• “American Coots fighting“ by Kevin Cole from Pacific Coast, USA (en:User:Kevinlcole) is licensed under CC BY 2.0. (cropped)