Dinkum bloke. The moment the news of the crocodile hunter’s death flashed on the ticker, I remembered a group of ragtag Australians I’d met at Corbett. When they got to know I was “some kind of a journalist into this wildlife thing”, they got talking about their Steve. Then, realising that I was a little sceptical about Irwin’s ‘wild’ ways, the largest of the group put his arm around my shoulders rather affectionately: “Don’t like his daks or what? He’s a dinkum bloke”. I was wise not to disagree.

Not many of us would anyway doubt the integrity of a man who revelled at his first scrub python at six, expanded a family establishment to one of the world’s finest zoos and drew 500 million viewers worldwide to wildlife films.

It is not Irwin’s motive but the method that always begged questions.

In many ways, Irwin, like his younger compatriot Jeff Corwin, was a product of his time. As the old guard of TV environmentalists like David Attenborough or David J Bellamy and their classic art aged, the Irwins had to invent new skills to attract an audience high on Lara Croft and Fear Factor. In that context, their most crucial contribution to the cause of wildlife has been their success in securing a captive attention span for wildlife. Irwin was MS Dhoni to Attenborough’s Rahul Dravid.

Of course, the extent of actual spin-off of this enviable viewership for the cause of conservation is debatable. But more debatable are the hooks provided to catch eyeballs. In their over-enthusiasm, or desperation, they often flout basic norms of conservation.

... contd.