You have rendered us impotent. I see the smiling faces on the young of your kind. They point at us. Some make faces that are intended to scare us. Right.

I beat against the solid air and you jump back. Afraid. You recognize my power. Then I see it dawn on your face that the barrier between us protects you. You become embolden. Laughing again, albeit nervously. Your little ones begin to taunt once more, while you make bright lights with the shiny rectangles.

There are only metal vines separating us on the side of our prison. I can smell you from there. I hope you can smell our musky anger seeping through our magnificent fur. My clan mate once threw poo at a gaggle of your little ones. We hooted for days.

I rage because I am not like the others. I was once free to go as I pleased. Hunted by a group of your kind that did not need to make faces to scare. The loud sticks that shoot fire. Now, that is scary.

But, I would rather be hunted while free than rot before your smiling faces.