What should we call the death today of Steve Irwin, the gregarious Crocodile Hunter of Animal Planet's "The Crocodile Hunter"? Is it tragic? Of course. Shocking? Not really. Surprising? Only a little bit. It's wrenching that the man died the way he did in a freak incident involving a stingray, leaving behind a wife and two young kids. The ray's poisonous barb on its tail caught Irwin flush in the chest and pierced his heart, which is one of the very few ways that a ray's sting is fatal. Death from a stingray is said to be exceedingly rare, responsible for a scant one or two fatalities annually worldwide.
It was horribly ironic that something as random as this would befall Irwin after staring death in the face from so many lethal predators so many times.
I was never a big fan of Irwin's, finding him a bit too buffoonish and goofy for comfort. He was a big crazy Aussie teddy bear of a guy who talked to the animals like a hyperkinetic Dr. Doolittle, nutty and silly and sassy and, ultimately, a bit too in love with danger for his own good. When you've got a family, some might see that up-close-and-in-their-face thrillseeking as sorta selfish and irresponsible, though since that's how the guy made his living and became an international star it's tougher to quibble with his style. If he'd dialed his methods back a notch, one can argue, he wouldn't have been Steve Irwin.
My friend Burt Kearns over at the great blog Tabloid Baby called Irwin's the first death of the reality TV era, having "died for our sins" as consumers of the kind of wildlife product he dished out. Irwin was a kiddie icon because of his jolly, cartoony, khaki-clad persona. To adults he was more of a spoofy curiosity whose approach crossed into self-parody. But grown-ups, if they watched Irwin's schtick at all, became fans because he did get so close to peril with such regularity. Because Irwin would joke about it, he never seemed truly close to disaster. But the truth obviously was that -- in the absence of healthy caution -- a line of patter proves a lousy defense.
This isn't to say that Irwin asked for it, and again, the way this went down was ironic in that there was nary a croc in sight.
But we also recall the criticism he received a few years ago when he was photographed feeding a crocodile while cradling his newborn son in his other arm. The flak he attracted for that little stunt was justified in that accidents happen, he could have tripped or dropped the infant -- and then what? Whoops? If you're a little crazy and tempting fate, that's one thing, but using your uncomprehending kid as a stage prop with a reptile's snapping jaws close by represented astonishingly bad judgment.
All of this is bound to be forgiven and forgotten now given the way Irwin was killed. He'll be remembered as one of TV's great effervescent characters, as well he should. He was one of a kind to be sure, and he's already being lauded for having "died doing what he loved." I always do kind of a double-take when I read that line: died doing what he loved. I feel safe in saying that Irwin didn't love having a hole punched in his heart by one of the sea's roughest customers, and the fact is that when you invade on another animal's turf with cameras and microphones you're taking a gamble no matter how fully you protect yourself and exercise caution.
Steve Irwin didn't deserve to die. I feel badly it happened to a 44-year-old guy with a family and such a vibrant zest for his life and his work. But he also well knew the risks. Or maybe he somehow came to see himself as invulnerable, with the croc/infant incident serving as a tipoff. If there's a lesson to be learned -- one imparted to Irwin with tragic finality -- it's that nature is not a photo op. And sometimes, it bites back.