Ill 



THE BROWN CREEPER 



IN the midst of a Massachusetts winter, when 

 a man with his eyes open may walk five miles 

 over favorable country roads and see only ten or 

 twelve kinds of birds, the brown creeper's faint 

 zeep is a truly welcome sound. He is a very 

 little fellow, very modestly dressed, without a 

 bright feather on him, his lower parts being 

 white and his upper parts a mottling of brown 

 and white, such as a tailor might call a " pepper 

 and salt mixture." 



The creeper's life seems as quiet as his colors. 

 You will find him by overhearing his note some- 

 where on one side of you as you pass. Now 

 watch him. He is traveling rather quickly, with 

 an alert, business-like air, up the trunk of a tree 

 in a spiral course, hitching along inch by inch, 

 hugging the bark, and every little while stop- 

 ping to probe a crevice of it with his long, 

 curved, sharply pointed bill. He is in search 

 of food, insects' eggs, grubs, and what not ; 

 morsels so tiny that it need not surprise us to see 



