From the great Loren Eisley, _The Spider_
"It happened on a rainy morning in the West. He (Eisley) had come up a long gulch looking for fossils and there, just at eye level, lurked a huge yellow and black orb spider, whose web was moored to the tall spears of buffalo grass at the edge of the arroyo. It was her universe, and her senses did not extend beyond the lines and spokes of the great wheel she inhabited. Her extended claws could feel every vibration throughout the delicate structure. She knew the tug of wind, the fall of a raindrop, the flutter of a trapped moth's wing. Down one spoke of the web ran a stout ribbon of gossamer on which she could hurry out to investigate her prey.
Being curious about what might happen, Eisley took a pencil from his pocket and touched a strand of the web. Immediately, there was a response. The web, plucked by its menacing occupant, began to vibrate until it was a blur. Anything that had brushed claw or wing against that amazing snare would be thoroughly entrapped. As the vibrations slowed, he could see the owner, as he called her, fingering her guidelines for signs of struggle. A pencil point was an intrusion into the universe for which no precedent existed. Spider was circumscribed by spider ideas; its universe was spider universe. All outside was irrational, extraneous, at best raw material for spider. And, as he proceeded on his way along the gully, like a vast impossible shadow, he realized that in the world of spider, he did not exist."
Source (one of many)