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.

First, animals don’t enjoy human contact. Promotional material for Irwin’s documentary Ice Breaker read: “He slides down hillsides with penguins, almost rubs noses with the notoriously dangerous leopard seals and spends the most inspiring time with two friendly humpback whales.”

It is mandatory to maintain at least a five-metre distance from seals and penguins and swimming with whales is banned. Irwin was eventually given a clean chit by none other than the Australian PM John Howard in 2004 after a probe that many claimed was “aware of the iconic stature of the accused”.

While Irwin never filmed in India, Corwin shot the Asiatic lions and the Bengal tigers extensively three years back. In Gujarat’s Gir, he made full use of the gentle-natured lion’s hospitality — the footage showed him almost playing with a lion pride. In Ranthambhore, however, the resident tigerman Fateh Singh Rathore didn’t allow him to venture much on feet. And a trained wildlifer, Corwin did not take any chance with the lonely predator.

Fateh, however, rules out much of the TV hype as manipulation: “Beyond a point, no one can handle the wild.” India’s foremost wildlife filmmaker Mike Pandey agrees. He recalls many examples: Heat chestnut shells from below so that they instantly burst open, scattering seeds, for the camera; place a trout in a shallow glass tray half an inch underwater (invisible to the camera) so that fishing eagles dive repeatedly for great TV; or fix a bee with super glue to a fine wire, tie it to the camera and carry the camera forward with the bee in focus so that the visual resembles a meticulous, uninterrupted tracking shot.

If these sound reasonably harmless, there are also recurrent instances of drugging wild species, like spiders or beetles, for controlled shooting of lizards feeding. Fateh recalls one incident when a foreign crew starved a leopard and then released it near a python. The desperate leopard — which would have never attacked a python in his senses — pounced on the snake, a mortal battle for happy filming.

Arranged or not, such stunts — or the more spectacular ones involving human elements like Irwin’s one-month-old son dangling tantalisingly close to a giant croc’s teeth in 2003 — may gain incredible TRPs but don’t help wild animals.

Secondly, animals have a right to exist even if they are not human friendly. Irwin’s professed attempt to dispel unreasonable fear among the lay public about certain species is commendable. But films of his genre have already kicked off a disturbing trend. Dozens of youngsters in India idolise him and call themselves “green”. Most of them believe that the first thing they must learn to become a wildlifer is to catch snakes.

Now handling the wild has its obvious charm. This spring, I carried a wounded wolf snake we found outside our Ranthambhore hotel to my room for necessary first-aid so that it could be released the next day. A group of young IT professionals accompanying me were initially terrified but soon gathered courage to gently touch the semi-poisonous beauty with their fingertips. But imagine hundreds of budding ‘wildlifers’ exploring the bushes for snakes!

Beyond every scrutiny, though, what redeemed Irwin was his passion. He was a great showman, a convincing orator and a great professional. But the fact that he kept returning to his stunts even after he became an icon and made enough money, qualifies him as more than an ace performer.

Steve Irwin enjoyed his animals. Let’s not be judgmental about the dinkum bloke.