You've gone to see the last family of gryphons. They sit there in a small glass habitat, families looking in at a creature that used to rule skies. If they flew in those skies again, they would be shot down by modern rifles, by hunters who know their beaks to be more precious than silver.
You look into their ancient eyes, seeing them still stand proud. Your ancestors would have seen them roam throughout the forests, and peach upon tall buildings in ancient capitals. Now they are such an oddity, they barely seem real.
You wonder if they know that they shouldn't be here? If something deep inside them wants to be in a flock of thousands of their kind, above an open sky? If they know that they should be flying. If they could, would they thank those who protected them with a cage, or would they hate them nonetheless, for being the reason that cage is needed?