When I was young and wandering in the woods near my parents' house (which was also my house) I would swing a stick as I walked to knock down any spider webs that might be in the path. It was a natural sort of stick swinging, using the weight of my arm to burst through any webs I might encounter.
Then, one day, when I was walking and swinging the stick stuck, just as my arm was going through the bottom of its arc and starting the upswing.
I never saw the spider, but I think the web was woven to catch gators. I left the stick stuck in the web and backed away, very slowly.
Meanwhile, somewhere up above you, a tiny voice snickered at your terror as little chitinous mandibles wiggled in mirth.
Or so I’d imagine were I to have experienced that one.