I did. It was dying. The whole experience was very sad.
The back-corner garden, that year, had gotten overgrown with weeds, especially wild grapes. When I was vehemently tearing piles of vines free, I suddenly felt a sharp pang. A praying mantis had bitten me on one finger and was still attached.
As I looked closer, I couldn't blame the poor thing: I had fatally injured it. The unweeded garden must have been the perfect place for it to hide and find prey, but then a huge, clumsy primate ripped up its environment. Worse yet, its green did blend right in, as nature intended, so I didn't see it where I grabbed.
It released and dropped into the garden bed. I went elsewhere to weed.