I was sitting on the back deck minding my own business one afternoon when I heard a whirring in the willow tree.
I thought it was a hummingbird, or a chickadee.
The birds are scarce this time of the year - the robins have gone, the little yellow and red finches seem to have disappeared too.
It was then I saw it.
A male cardinal, in all his red feathered and magnificent un-camouflaged glory.
It is incredible how these birds continue to exist.
Their bright red colours a calling card to all predators.
It's no wonder they are shy, elusive creatures, constantly on the lookout.
Unless they are looking for a mate, in which case I have witnessed them perched on rooftops calling their song.
But this particular cardinal was on a mission.
He seemed intent on something on the tree branch.
But he only plucked a few leaves, and then a few dead twigs from it.
Then I spied its target.
A nicely sized spider in the middle of its web, spanning from the tree to a deck chair.
Fair game, I thought.
The cardinal made its way closer, and seemed to actually throw a couple of dead twigs at the spider.
Was it using a tool?
It then began flapping its wings and started hovering right beside the spider in the middle of the spider web.
Just like a hummingbird, but a huge, flapping red blur.
I could not believe my eyes.
It quickly plucked the unsuspecting spider right out of its sticky home.
It dropped onto the ground.
Undeterred, the cardinal plunged after it, seizing it and plopping it up on the deck, where I had a lovely vantage point.
It then proceeded to summarily eat the spider, bite by bite, bit by bit.
Not gorging on the whole thing at once, swallowing it like a glutton.
No.
Daintily, with purpose, mindfulness, pecking away at it, piece by piece.
A good meal I supposed, filling the bird's tummy for a good while.
I was still in shock and awe at what I had just witnessed.
I had stayed very still, not even daring to reach for my phone to take a photo or video, lest it scare the bird away and I would have missed out on the drama that unfolded.
And what a drama it was.
The spider was fair game, a predator insect itself, preying on unsuspecting flying creatures who just happen to fly into its web.
The poster child for passive aggressiveness.
But it didn't count on the keen eyes of the cardinal, who must have spied it and then figured out how to snag itself a good sized meal.
Who knew that cardinals could hover like a hummingbird.
If I had not witnessed it, I would never have believed it.
And it reminds me that sometimes, when we least expect it, if we lift our heads up from our phones and computers, we might witness something incredible and completely unexpected, courtesy of mother nature.