It is really a shock to read about the death of Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter. He is survived by his wife, Terri, and their two children, Bindi Sue, 8, and Bob, 3 in December. It seemed to me that he led a charmed life, deftly handling creatures that most people would run from and never sustaining serious injuries. Until now, of course - I've only just read the article up on Yahoo, but it seems a Stingray stung him in the heart.
I've often joked that he had my dream job. His passion for his work and his skill at handling dangerous animals has always impressed me, not to mention his commitment to saving wildlife and wilderness. I'll bet he was a bit of an adrenalin junkie though. There is something exciting about getting close to dangerous animals, especially when it's only your skill keeping you safe. I don't take chances like he did, but I'll admit that it's always a thrill coming across our local venomous reptile, the Western Rattlesnake. I even took Jen and the kids up to see the one pictured here (we also spotted a Yellowjacket nest and some Mountain Lion scat) on Thursday after work. It has now been in the same place for over two months, under a piece of corrugated metal siding stuck in the dirt, and in a perfect place for safe viewing. The thrill is still there though, despite the fact that I see the same snake on nearly a weekly basis. Willow at least was pretty excited about it and has been telling everybody that she saw it. It makes me think of Steve Irwin's kids. The excitement is gone for them, and the enormity of the tragedy is no doubt still sinking in. My heart goes out to them.
R.I.P. Steve Irwin.
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