Crikey, that is a shame.
He died from a stingray barb in the chest. Now how ironic is that? Any one of us could easily get jabbed exactly the same way just by jumping into the wrong section of surf in Siesta Key or Fort Myers Beach. Stingrays are EVERYWHERE in warm water.
They don't cause a lot of deaths, from what I learned during my time in Florida:
The creatures are not aggressive and injury usually occurs when a swimmer or diver accidentally steps on one.
It's ironic because my impression of Irwin was of a completely bulletproof wild man. The first time I saw him on TV he was crouching in a row boat at night, floating over the blackest, most fetid- and hellish- looking swamp you can imagine. We're talking weeds, muck, insects and WHO KNOWS WHAT in the godforsaken water. Irwin was whispering something like "Ooh, we gorra a look at 'em, 'es right there, right in front of us....OK" and Irwin LUNGES INTO THE SWAMP, rolls around in the water and reeds, and comes up with a baby crocodile in his hands.
All the time I'm thinking: "AND WHERE ARE YOUR FEET, MAN!!! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU STANDING IN?"
Hundred of episodes of watching this guy established him in my mind as the exemplar of "Man against nature: man always wins...as long as MAN HAS THE BALLS TO WILL IT."
And just think that most of his shows were taped in Australia, where there are someting like 150 species of DUST fatal to man. Not to mention the centipedes. So many times when I've been out in the yard and walked into a spiderweb or some such and felt the soul-shuddering sense of disgust "Uugggghh" - I've caught myself and picked myself up by the bootstraps via a quick reminiscence of the Croc Hunter.
"Spiderwebs?" he'd probably say, "Crikey mate, I floss with 'em!"
Whether the Croc Hunter's death shows us the limits of machismo or that we may as well keep plunging into every black swamp because it might be the friggin' BEACH that kills us anyway, Steve Irwin brought the man vs nature conflict into sharp detail, with the brave coming out on top, no less, for a generation of Animal Planet-watching kids. And also for at least one white bread Harry Homeowner who is no longer reticent about venturing into the forbidding dark places under the deck.