Are you my Mother?

A couple days ago, we noticed a fledgling mockingbird sitting beneath one of the trees in the back yard. Finley was worried about it and wanted to find a cage to put it in and try to feed it. I told her it was probably fine (although I was worried the cats might discover and kill it). So after examining it for a minute, Finley put it back down. Immediately, it ran out into the yard, and Finley followed to make sure it was okay. Suddenly, mama and papa bird swooped down from the trees and flew at Finley making her scream and rush back to cover, and I had a good laugh.

(If you look closely at the bird, it had some long, fluffy feathers around the crown of its head making it look like a balding old man.)