THE BROWN CREEPER. 



I'm not a showy looking bird 

 like my friend the Woodpecker, 

 but my habits are something like 

 his and so is my tail. He uses 

 his, you know, to aid him in 

 climbing trees, and so do I. 

 They call me the Creeper 

 because I am always creep- 

 ing over the timber in search of 

 insects. If you ever see a brown- 

 streaked little fellow, resembling 

 a Wren, traveling up a tree in 

 short stages, now stopping to 

 pick out an insect lurking in the 

 crevices of the bark, or returning 

 head downwards to pounce on 

 an unwary fly, that is your 

 humble servant the Brown 

 Creeper. Up again, you will 

 then see me creep, just like a 

 little mouse, uttering now and 

 then a low plaintive note ; clear 

 to the top I go, exploring every 

 nook and cranny, never using 

 my wings once. 



Last summer a little boy in 

 the park wanted to get a good 

 look at me, so he very slyly crept 

 up to the tree which I was 



exploring, thinking, perhaps, 

 that I was too busy to notice that 

 he was there. But I did see him, 

 for we little birds have to be 

 always on the watch against our 

 human, as well as feathered 

 enemies, so I just stood still and 

 peeked out at him from the other 

 side of the tree. Yery slily then 

 he moved around to that side, 

 and very slily did I move around 

 to the other, keeping the tree 

 trunk all the time between me 

 and his bright blue eyes. 



" He's playing hide and seek 

 with me, Mama," he shouted, 

 and so pleased was the little 

 fellow that it was quite a while 

 before I flew away. 



Like the Woodpecker, I prefer 

 a hole in a tree in which to build 

 my nest, but instead of boring 

 I look for a tree that has some 

 of its bark loose enough for me 

 to squeeze in. I line it with dry 

 grass, moss, and feathers and 

 see to it that the overhanging 

 bark shelters me and my four, 

 or six, white, red-speckled eggs. 



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