Steve and we...

When I was five, I told my dad I wanted an alligator for a pet. He told me I could have one when I was fifteen.

When I was in fourth or fifth grade (can't remember exactly what year now), there used to be a alligator/crocodile park close to one of the theme parks near my home. Remembering back on it now, it was probably small and overcrowded, although the animals seemed well taken care of; at the time I thought it was a fascinating place. That was where I dragged all of my girlfriends for my birthday, when I was in fourth or fifth grade. Most of them put on the typical girl-afraid-of reptile act, but I think at least a few of them found themselves reluctantly interested. I think I got one or two of them to actually touch a snake, including my best friend Anne, who was terrified of them; she was shocked that it wasn't slimy.

In Girl Scouts, I was always the girl in my troop who got woken up in the middle of the night to get a spider out of somebody's tent. One time, it was a chicken; not really all that scary an animal, but I suppose at three o'clock in the morning when you aren't expecting it, it could be a bit nerve-wracking to wake up and find an Indian Jungle Fowl on top of your sleeping bag. And when we had emergency-preparedness challenge where someone pretended to sprain her ankle and the rest of us had to carry her back to camp, I tried to calm everyone down when the cows in the field started coming through the busted fence onto the road behind us; I don't know what they thought they were going to do, just suddenly charge and trample us for no reason?

On my fifteenth birthday, after opening my gifts, I turned to Dad and said, "OK, where's my alligator?" He blanched and replied "Dammit, you were supposed to have forgotten by now!" I laughed and put him at ease; by that time I had realized that large reptilian predators do not make good household pets, and sharing the bathroom with two brothers was crowded enough without putting a creature with a lot of teeth into the mix.

So maybe we had a few things in common, but I can't say I was a big fan of Steve Irwin - my main reaction to his show was rolling my eyes, and it seemed that he often put getting a good camera shot above safety. There's such a thing as a healthy respect for the business end of an animal that's either venomous or could do you a serious injury, that he just didn't seem to have. However, I watched one of his interviews the next day, and to his credit, he emphasized (as he pointed out all of his numerous scars) that any injury he'd ever gotten from an animal was his own fault (although aren't you supposed to learn before you get that many?). I've worked with pelagic stingrays ( Pteroplatytrygon violacea, formerly Dasyatis violacea, same genus); they are not gentle or harmless if they think they're threatened. They can arch their tails clear over their backs, they can aim, and there's a lot of muscle behind it, too - that spine is just like a serrated knife. Maybe he just didn't take that into account.

But if his enthusiasm got anyone interested in animals, conservation, zoology, or even changed anyone's mind that "ugly" or dangerous critters serve a purpose in the environment and shouldn't be killed just because you're afraid of them, then that was a good thing. I know I had two little boys here who took the news pretty hard and needed a lot of comforting and drying of tears before going to bed the other night. Gareth sobbed and cried, and Angus was just as affected although he reacts to grief with a stiff body, clenched fists, and angry tears, refusing to be soothed - he immediately wanted to go and punish the stingray, and we had to explain that it was only trying to defend itself, and that's exactly what the Crocodile Hunter always tried to prevent. We've always taught them that animals are allowed to protect themselves, and the cats will scratch them if they're bothered.

We finally got out a candle, took it out on the patio, lit it and said good-bye to Steve as we watched the flame. Rituals seem to help, and they were finally able to calm down enough to go to sleep. I know it won't be as easy for Terri and her kids.

He was only a little older than me - we were born in the same year.

*sigh*

If I ever catch my kids picking up a snake by the tail, though, they're going to wish it had bitten them.

Afterward: John was angry with me for letting it slip. He thought they didn't need to know about it, and it could've waited. Maybe so, but he'd rather they found out from turning the show on the next day? At school, when a friend told them? When is a convenient time for a child's grief?

Steve and we...

When I was five, I told my dad I wanted an alligator for a pet. He told me I could have one when I was fifteen.

When I was in fourth or fifth grade (can't remember exactly what year now), there used to be a alligator/crocodile park close to one of the theme parks near my home. Remembering back on it now, it was probably small and overcrowded, although the animals seemed well taken care of; at the time I thought it was a fascinating place. That was where I dragged all of my girlfriends for my birthday, when I was in fourth or fifth grade. Most of them put on the typical girl-afraid-of reptile act, but I think at least a few of them found themselves reluctantly interested. I think I got one or two of them to actually touch a snake, including my best friend Anne, who was terrified of them; she was shocked that it wasn't slimy.

In Girl Scouts, I was always the girl in my troop who got woken up in the middle of the night to get a spider out of somebody's tent. One time, it was a chicken; not really all that scary an animal, but I suppose at three o'clock in the morning when you aren't expecting it, it could be a bit nerve-wracking to wake up and find an Indian Jungle Fowl on top of your sleeping bag. And when we had emergency-preparedness challenge where someone pretended to sprain her ankle and the rest of us had to carry her back to camp, I tried to calm everyone down when the cows in the field started coming through the busted fence onto the road behind us; I don't know what they thought they were going to do, just suddenly charge and trample us for no reason?

On my fifteenth birthday, after opening my gifts, I turned to Dad and said, "OK, where's my alligator?" He blanched and replied "Dammit, you were supposed to have forgotten by now!" I laughed and put him at ease; by that time I had realized that large reptilian predators do not make good household pets, and sharing the bathroom with two brothers was crowded enough without putting a creature with a lot of teeth into the mix.

So maybe we had a few things in common, but I can't say I was a big fan of Steve Irwin - my main reaction to his show was rolling my eyes, and it seemed that he often put getting a good camera shot above safety. There's such a thing as a healthy respect for the business end of an animal that's either venomous or could do you a serious injury, that he just didn't seem to have. However, I watched one of his interviews the next day, and to his credit, he emphasized (as he pointed out all of his numerous scars) that any injury he'd ever gotten from an animal was his own fault (although aren't you supposed to learn before you get that many?). I've worked with pelagic stingrays ( Pteroplatytrygon violacea, formerly Dasyatis violacea, same genus); they are not gentle or harmless if they think they're threatened. They can arch their tails clear over their backs, they can aim, and there's a lot of muscle behind it, too - that spine is just like a serrated knife. Maybe he just didn't take that into account.

But if his enthusiasm got anyone interested in animals, conservation, zoology, or even changed anyone's mind that "ugly" or dangerous critters serve a purpose in the environment and shouldn't be killed just because you're afraid of them, then that was a good thing. I know I had two little boys here who took the news pretty hard and needed a lot of comforting and drying of tears before going to bed the other night. Gareth sobbed and cried, and Angus was just as affected although he reacts to grief with a stiff body, clenched fists, and angry tears, refusing to be soothed - he immediately wanted to go and punish the stingray, and we had to explain that it was only trying to defend itself, and that's exactly what the Crocodile Hunter always tried to prevent. We've always taught them that animals are allowed to protect themselves, and the cats will scratch them if they're bothered.

We finally got out a candle, took it out on the patio, lit it and said good-bye to Steve as we watched the flame. Rituals seem to help, and they were finally able to calm down enough to go to sleep. I know it won't be as easy for Terri and her kids.

He was only a little older than me - we were born in the same year.

*sigh*

If I ever catch my kids picking up a snake by the tail, though, they're going to wish it had bitten them.

Afterward: John was angry with me for letting it slip. He thought they didn't need to know about it, and it could've waited. Maybe so, but he'd rather they found out from turning the show on the next day? At school, when a friend told them? When is a convenient time for a child's grief?