Brown Creeper ' 6i 



to its nesting-haunts. Forbush describes this as "a sweet, wild, indescribable 



song." William Brewester, who studied the bird much in the nesting-season, 

 has left on record his impressions of its singing. In a bulletin of the Nuttall 

 Ornithological Club, published in 1879, he wrote: "Though one of the sweetest 

 that ever rises in the thickets of the northern forests, it is never a very conspicu- 

 ous song. This is due to the fact that the song is short and by no means power- 

 ful, but its tones are so exquisitely pure and tender that I have never heard it 

 without a desire to linger in the vicinity until it has been many times repeated. 

 It consists of a bar of four notes, the first of moderate pitch, the second lower 

 and less emphatic, the third rising again, and the last abruptly falling, but dy- 

 ing away in an indescribable plaintive cadence like the soft sigh of the wind 

 among the pine boughs. I can compare it to no other bird-voice that I have 

 ever heard." 



The nest of the Brown Creeper is made of sticks, strips of bark, cobwebs, 

 plant down, and other materials. It is sometimes placed in hollow trees, but 

 much more often the birds hide it between a strip of loose bark and the body 

 of the tree or stump to which it still clings. 



In the Auk magazine for April, 1905, appears this interesting account of a 

 search made by Frederic H. Kennard for a Creeper's nest in Massachusetts: 



"On May 12, 1904, at about dusk, while Mr. Kennard was in the top of a 

 red maple on the edge of a swamp in Canton, inspecting a Hairy Woodpecker's 

 nest, he heard the call-notes of a pair of Brown Creepers as they flitted through 

 the woods behind him. He did not see the birds, much less follow them, but 

 only was able to note the direction in which they apparently flew. 



"Two days later, however, on May 14, after finding one nest in a swamp 

 2 miles away, we determined to have a look for this pair, which we guessed 

 were probably breeding in a certain cedar swamp. The quest seemed nearly 

 hopeless, but we had an afternoon to spare, and waded in accordingly. 



"The water was deep, the trees were thick, and the swamp particularly dark, 

 as it was cloudy, while the leaves that were then bursting forth added very 

 materially to our difficulties. However, after an hour, we at last thought we 

 heard one of the call-notes of the Creeper, a note that closely resembles that 

 soft call which Chickadees often utter when feeding and which differs somewhat 

 from the Creeper's ordinary Kinglet-like call. After considerable search we 

 finally discovered the Creeper, and the discovery seemed to be mutual, for he 

 allowed us to light our pipes and sit down and watch him for about fifteen 

 minutes, during which he never stirred until, apparently making up his mind 

 that we were harmless, he moved on. The trees and bushes were so thick, and 

 his movements so rapid, that it was impossible to keep an eye on him all the 

 time, and we often had to content ourselves with merely a general idea of his 

 whereabouts. When all at once we realized that two birds had come upon the 

 scene, our difficulties were doubled, each of us trying to watch one bird, and 

 often finding that we were watching the other's, particularly after the male had 



