282 THE TREE-CREEPER 



far as the branches, and that he then flits to the next, and alighting 

 low down, repeats this process. It is a great mistake to say that 

 any bird invariably pursues a certain course of action, however regular 

 in its habits. I have quite recently seen a tree-creeper fly from the 

 middle of a gnarled old thorn to some spot considerably higher up 

 on another, and then away to the top of a larch, thrusting its bill 

 into nooks and crannies of each tree in turn. The bird has also 

 been seen to fly four times to the foot of the same trunk, each 

 time making a vertical ascent up a fresh course, with occasional 

 zig-zags on its previous course. It is, in fact, no more safe to lay 

 down hard and fast rules about a bird's behaviour under certain 

 conditions than a woman's ; both are usually guided by circumstances 

 and their own sweet wills! A robin or sparrow will occasionally 

 cling to the inverted half of a cocoa-nut and peck at its contents, 

 in spite of their supposed inability to perform this acrobatic feat. 

 So also a sober and respectable tree-creeper will occasionally break 

 away from tradition and hidebound conventionality. Nevertheless, 

 so ingrained is this habit of ascending, I was this year guided to a 

 tree-creeper's nest owing to the regularity with which one of the 

 two parents alighted at the base of an old willow stump, and crept 

 upwards carrying food in its bill to the nesting-hole ; while the other 

 bird flew to the opposite side of the trunk and crept round it to 

 reach the hole. 



The tree-creeper's song is what one might expect from his 

 manner of life, weak, complaining, and plaintive : a cross between 

 that of the wren and hedge-sparrow, but lacking the vigour of both. 

 It has been syllabled as " ticka-tee-tee-tee-tee-tee-ticka-ticka ! " and is 

 usually uttered as the bird makes a pause in its progress up the 

 tree-trunk and " holds its head sideways in a languishing manner." 1 

 The usual note is a soft "zit" which is sometimes repeated and 

 supplemented by a sound like " ssrih, ssrih, ssrih ! " 



There is, in fact, nothing particularly inspiring about this 



1 Mr. Moffat, quoted in Ussher and Warren's Birds of Ireland. 



