Jinx bird

One of the great things about birding is that it gets me outside, with sort of an objective in mind.  I know I'll see some birds, probably the usual suspects, but you never know.  And if my spirits need a boost, a solitary walk in the woods, or on the bay, with binocs is  guaranteed to do me good. If no exciting birds are seen, it's a reminder that it's the journey that counts.  Birders have to think that way or we get very tense....  
Many birders have what are called  jinx birds.  A jinx bird is usually local, a bird that the birder just hasn't seen, despite many trips.  Always in the wrong place at the right time.  "You should have been with us, he just perched there for minutes..."  you hear from your erstwhile birding friends. 
For a long time, one of my jinx  birds was a wrentit. This little bird  inhabits only the  far west coast, up to the Columbia River.  No wrentits have ever been seen on the Washington side, and the assumption is that they will not risk crossing the wide river.  I guess they have all they need on the Oregon side, so why push?
This is a secretive, lurky little bird. (I use that as an excuse for missing them for so long, although I've seen other lurky birds.)   They are chickadee size, buffy-grey, and the northern wrentits (Oregon ones) have a reddish blush to their breasts.  And they have lovely yellow eyes.  I know their song and have heard it many times while walking at Ft. Stevens State Park, west of Astoria: wrentit heaven, I had been told.
Having experienced the loss of my father after a long, unhappy year of watching his decline, I decided one day I needed to get out and walk.   I chose to follow along the path at  Coffenberry Lake, even though it was raining.  This is in Fort Stevens, aka wrentit heaven.  My mind really wasn't on finding a life bird, but I never, ever go out without my binocs.  Too many times I've regretted it. 
The path was damp, and therefore quiet under my boots.   I was moving along feeling the lift in my heart from just smelling the Doug firs and the damp sea air.  The lake trail takes a few abrupt turns along the shore, and just as I rounded a turn, there perched a very surprised wrentit.  If there had been a cartoon bubble above his head it would have said "Yikes!!"  I didn't even need my binocs. He was perched on some salal about five feet ahead and to the side. In full view.  Wow.   He froze just long enough for me to really see him, then he was gone, deep into the underbrush.  I peered under the salal and spent another ten minutes trying to re-find him, but he was so gone.  I'm sure he was deep in the underbrush, watching me! 
It's great to find a new life bird, but there's also a little sadness about finding a jinx bird too.  Checked off  the list.  Lucky there are approximately 9,979 more birds in the world to see.