Out of the Frying Pan

I was wheeling a load of mulch,
My barrow full to the brim,
When I noticed an interesting spider,
Had also decided to jump in.
About two inches across the legs,
It scuttled to and fro,
It seemed in two minds, perplexed,
About where next it should go.
As I deposited my rotting load,
I noticed something queer,
My little, scuttling, arachnid friend,
Had decided to disappear.
Twenty minutes later, still toiling,
The pile was becoming small,
I had not considered anything,
Concerning the spider at all,
When I felt a tickle behind my neck,
Reached up and gave a flick,
And surprisingly dislodged the spider,
Who performed the next trick.
It sailed though the air,
Legs splayed far and wide,
It glided with surprising effortlessness,
Even yawing from side to side.
When from on high a butcher bird,
Thundered from the sun,
It snatched the spider in mid-air,
It's meal hunting now done.
It flew off with the spider clenched,
In it's wicked beak,
To deposit it in its nest,
Then off for further prey to seek.
But what's the moral of the story?
I guess I have a hunch,
One moment you're flying high,
The next moment you are lunch.