Crocodile tears

The late Steve Irwin was a great conservationist, whatever Germaine Greer says.

By Sally Eckhoff


Sept. 7, 2006 | Wherever you were when the story broke, and whether you reacted with a smirk or with sympathy, news of the death of TV conservationist Steve Irwin quickly grew legs so long it outran every other item for days. Sure, the Crocodile Hunter's death was anything but unimaginable, but after it hit, Irwin's friends were in shock, and officials at the highest levels of the Australian government had tears in their eyes. Everyone knew Irwin, or felt they did: His "Crocodile Hunter" series on Animal Planet had swum steadily to popularity since airing in Australia in 1992.

The Hunter himself was snorkeling off Batt Reef in Queensland on Monday morning, engaged in shooting a documentary and feeling himself in no danger, when he floated over a stingray that shouldn't have been startled, but was. The macabre details of his death -- that the poisoned, spiny tail struck in or near his heart, and the later revelation that he pulled it out just before he died -- aren't in dispute. But what the demise of a charming showman with a somewhat challenged concept of self-preservation means to the rest of the world is very much a hot issue, and some of the backtalk has barbs that would do a stingray proud.

Three days later, the TV channels' mourning shows no signs of letting up as the critical snarling intensifies. Among the Irwin-trashing comments heard around the world, Germaine Greer's stands out for its lofty, literary disdain. "The animal world has finally taken its revenge on Irwin," the famous author, feminist and "Big Brother" contestant told the Australian press, likening Irwin's "jumping all over crocodiles" to lion taming in the circus. "I'm not saying that's not sad. I'm saying what might be over now is this kind of exploitation of animals." Among certain of the intelligentsia, the mumblings are similar. A blond surfer-ish conservationist-cum-cable star who mugs for the camera and waxes poetic in the presence of venomous snakes can't be a major force for good in the worldwide roulette game that is species survival. Or can he?

On the face of it, animals Down Under, especially the scary and uncuddly ones, seem to have had an easier time of it since Irwin went on the air. He strenuously protested wildlife hunts in his home country, and his personal objections to crocodile safaris had a lot to do with the Australian government's decision to impose a ban. Bouncy, fit and only 44 when he died, Irwin seemed made for TV. He was raised at his parents' Reptile and Fauna Park in Queensland and lived there as an adult, expanding the facility and renaming it the Australia Zoo. What seems to be bugging his detractors is a philosophical matter more than a practical one. Crocodile wrestling, after all, is sideshow stuff. Wouldn't he have been more effective as a cooler observer? Up close and personal does have its bad side, after all -- invading animal territory, as he's been accused of doing while shooting some of his shows, is anathema to true conservationists. And when Irwin was seen tossing snacks to a croc while holding his infant son under his arm, the fix was apparently in. His stunts were more "Jackass" than Cousteau. With guys like that around, Greer's hope of de-sensationalizing animal documentaries had a jellyfish's chance in hell.

There have been few serious contenders for Irwin's heroic slot. Jeff Corwin, for all his strong-stomached persistence, comes off like a student in comparison. A more worthy confrere is Sir David Attenborough, who sweated bravely away under pancake makeup for BBC's remarkable 10-part special "The World of Birds." Rapturously attentive, unfailingly polite, the unsexy Attenborough greatly increased public awareness of birds and their strange habits -- birds being, of course, an unsexy subject to begin with, as are crocs and the other nasties Irwin cherished. And therein lies a part of the TV conservation story not immediately apparent to Americans.

We are not, nor have we ever been, fans of the precious, or rare, or ugly in the animal world. Irwin is from a place on planet Earth whose living national treasures are hard to describe, let alone promote. Besides its disappearing wombats, which are now the subject of a heart-tugging TV campaign, Australia has a massive rodent boom to worry about, not to mention a frog plague as well as a number of horrid snakes and sharks that need attention. Nearby New Zealand has the unenviable task of suppressing the house-pet population in order to save its bizarre and mostly flightless endangered birds. (A few examples: the kea, a carnivorous parrot the color of immature compost; the kiwi, an "honorary mammal" that looks like a Shmoo from Lil' Abner cartoons; the ponderous kakapo, resembling an owl crossed with a green parrot, which makes nests in bare dirt and communicates by booming. There are only 87 kakapos left.) Imagine the United States undertaking such a task.

Next page: Irwin aided the survival of some highly unusual creatures