Bird on Bird

We have at least a pair of Mockingbirds (maybe a juvenile too) that have taken up residence near our home. Their garbled telegram-like messages, or songs, usually start 8 or 9 in the morning and disappear by midday. Unfortunately, other small birds have vacated. No longer sweet melodious songs from Meadowlarks or rhythmic whistles from Say's Phoebes grace us. Instead, the bold and boisterous Mockingbird swoop down with its white patch wings blazing, scaring insects or to commandeer our berries. They are conspicuous until you want to photograph them. As I waited with camera in hand, I noticed the silence.