I just found out Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter died last night. I used to watch him quite a bit when my husband was alive. He was always so ebullient, so over-the-top full of life, downright bouncy. And so darned good at what he did that it comes as a shock that he was killed doing what he loved doing best: working with animals.
He was so all-over the tube that I confess at one point growning sort of tired of him.
But he was a great ambassador for the animals. He never harmed an animal to my knowledge, and preached handling them gently and letting them go their own way, even the deadliest among them.
Crikey!
Yet though the death came fast, he was way too young, at 44, leaving his wife, Terri and two small children. And after Steve Irwin, how can Terri find another soulmate, for she participated fully in his adventures.
He died quickly when the barb of a stingray entered his chest and pierced his heart as he was diving off Northern Queensland, Australia. While the stingray venom is rarely fatal, holes in the heart usually are, as the heart continues pumping, but large volumes of blood enter the chest instead of the aorta and the systemic circulation. And since he was underwater when it happened, the chances of getting him to land and an OR in time were negligible.
I feel quite blue about all this.
Good-bye, Steve, we hardly knew ye.
[This post is in lieu of the normal 1 PM post.]
His television antics aside, he was a true friend to wildlife and a rabid conservationist. What a loss.
Posted by: Shirl | September 08, 2006 at 05:53 PM