12 ? EVERYDAY BIRDS 
of, he suddenly lets go his hold and flies down 
to the foot of another tree, and begins again to 
creep upward. If you keep track of him, you 
will see him do this hour after hour. He never 
walks down. Up, up, he goes, and if you look 
sharply enough, you will see that whenever he 
pauses he makes use of his sharp, stiff tail- 
feathers as a rest —a kind of camp-stool, as it 
were, or, better still, a bracket. He is built for 
his work; color, bill, feet, tail-feathers — all 
were made on purpose for him. 
He is a native of the northern country, and 
therefore to most readers of this book he is a 
winter bird only. If you know his voice, you 
will hear him twenty times for once that you see 
him. If you know neither him nor his voice, it 
will be worth your while to make his acquaint- — 
ance. 
When you come upon a little bunch of chick- 
adees flitting through the woods, listen for a 
quick, lispmg note that is something like theirs, 
but different. It may be the creeper’s, for al- 
though he seems an unsocial fellow, seldom flock- 
ing with birds of his own kind, he is fond of the 
chickadee’s cheerful companionship. 
To see him and hear his zeep, you would never 
take him for a songster; but there is no telling 
by the looks of a bird how well he can sing. In 
