'Twas a fine day on the Nonspecific Location. The sky looked just like it always did, the sun and a few little amorphous fluffs of water vapor hanging in the sky-blue sky. As for everything else, well, it was your basic vegetation and landforms and rocks. Save for the plant-life, there wasn't a single visible organism to speak of. Not so much as a bug crawling on a leaf.
Of course, if one of the huge bugs of this world had been trying to crawl on a leaf, the weight would render this a no-problem situation for the most annoying of natural forces -- gravity. The delicate leaf would bend, causing the exoskeleton containing gross natural stuff like organs to be mercilessly forced downways, and its involuntary attraction toward the ridiculously dense molten core of the planet to be obstructed by the hard ground, as Gravity tends to get a kick out of slapstick. However, no serious harm would be done to the creature upon impact; at the very worst, some sort of pencil-scribble would appear on its face. It would likely cry, and then attempt to crawl back onto that leaf.
And it would be suddenly sent flying mid-branch when another living body slammed against it. Before is can say "WTF,"(which would translate into its own species name for this kind of bug) it is charged at again by the very same creature before being clonked on the head with something. Next thing the bug's aware of is that it's in a dark place. Unnerved, it tries the crawling thing again only to smack into some kind of wall after a short distance. It probably says "WTF" about now.
Now in a state of panic, it tries hurling its body at the walls of the tight space. Tiredness grows quickly, but with one last wall-tackle, this chamber is separated into two equal halves as it is once again enveloped by the light of its own familiar world. Unfortunately its previous attacker is still there as well. Bug breaks out in something far more of a scurry than a crawl, leaving this critter -- alongside another larger one that it failed to notice before -- in its imaginary dust. As is scurrawls, it hears --presumably from the larger of the two -- a series of sounds that it hasn't heard before, but somehow knows exactly what it means.
"Darn! It got away!"
Hidden behind a rock or something later, it mumbles something about "dang kids on its property" and "sneaking shards of broken glass into their next meals."
But I already said there was no bug. That never happened, and never will because how would a freaking wild Caterpie know the phrase "WTF"? Duh.