The frog didn't squirm, but he wasn't complacent either. The muscle tension of his body met and matched my grip. I knew that If I loosened my hold just a bit, he'd hop right out of my hand and make the instinctual leap into the unknown. He might be killed, or he might land safely on soft grass or welcoming water. Either way he'd be free. In the meantime, he remained stoic but brooding, living through the moment in whatever concept he had of reality. When I finally released him into the creek, it was as I predicted: He shot out of my hand into the murk, and as far as I know, didn't look back.
Whether through a workman's negligence or a poorly designed latch, the light cover was left hanging, exposing the vulnerable underside of the bulb and making it an easy target for rock-throwing kids (several of whom are on the prowl lately).