in a golden field bound to a tall wooden pole birds keep me employed

Threshed wheat, unpainted plank. Old film, saltwater tank. With me is smooth, Against me a rebel. Pressure and time form a sediment pebble.

What’s feared upon a wicked snare, A pendulum pathway, tips to air. The queen of tides’ partial peak to stare. Assistant to gravity while rocking chairs. Shape crafted from a circled pair, Cheshire’s pearly whites, and your bite, compare.

I’m set with bait, but not for fish, A tiny thief is my big wish. One quick step then SNAP! I sing, A spring-loaded surprise I bring. What am I?

Measuring dozens, or hundreds of feet, They war with other predators for something to eat