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WiDMAis-N-, Bro-.vn Creeper Nesting in Missouri. 



feet above the water and only a few yards from where I was 

 half-hidden among fallen timber and stumps. It began to sing 

 as soon as it had alighted and hopping up the side of the tree 

 repeated the strange notes several times. There was no doubt 

 possible, the bird was less than ten yards from me, in good light 

 for half a minute as it went up the tree in its well-known fashion ; 

 it was Certhia, the Brown Creeper. My surprise was so much 

 greater since I thought I had become acquainted with the song 

 of that bird during a visit to this region in March, when I had 

 heard it almost daily and on some days quite often. 



Of course, I began at once to look about for the traditional 

 detached bark, but there was so much of that article on the old 

 dead cvpresses that I had to give up the idea of hunting for its 

 nest i lingered for another hour, but my patience was 

 exhausted and I left the home of the Missouri Certhia to its 

 rightful owners, including mosquitos and moccasins, both of 

 which seemed to become provoked by my persistent stay. 



In May, 1895, I visited the same locality again. I did not 

 meet with Certhia on the first day ; but on the morning of the 

 second, May 15, I had hardly entered the swamp, when I heard 

 its song and a few moments after saw the bird, a Brown Creeper, 

 alight against a dead cypress (Taxodium distichum) five feet 

 above the water. The tree or stump was about fifty feet high 

 and two feet in diameter. Its base was devoid of bark and on 

 one side the bark had detached itself in a sheet, fifteen feet 

 Ion- and was hanging down like a streamer. Above, the bark 

 was peehng off in shreds, and the whole stump was a picture 

 of dilapidation and dissolution. 



The bird hopped deliberately up to a place where the bark was 

 loosened in such a way as to form a pocket, closed above and 

 below and on one side, with an opening of one and one-half 

 inches at its widest. There the bird halted just one second, 

 peeped in, flitted to another tree, and gave a song. 



This peeping into that pocket looked suspicious, and I thought 

 I would like to peep in myself. But how to get there? It was 

 fourteen feet above the water and climbing out of question. I 

 had to get a ladder. That was no easy matter, but an hour later 

 I came back with a boy, a small spoon, and a home-made ladder 

 of barbarous weight. 



