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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 creeping 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. Very 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.
[Illustration: BROWN CREEPER.]