It
was a sad day
when the Crocodile
Hunter, Steve
Irwin, died
in a freak accident.
Speared by a
stingray, it
was an unfitting
end to a man
who shared his
deep passion
with the world
for his beloved
wildlife. Who
will ever forget
him wrestling
around in small
ponds of water
with huge frightful
beasts? Crikey
... we’ll miss
him.
I
think that anytime
someone can
change the public’s
attitude about
scary critters,
it’s a huge
success. Crocodiles
were called
“beauties,”
tarantulas were
petted and named
“darlings,”
and all manner
of terrifying
snakes were
kissed and caressed.
The viewing
public was given
a front row
seat to watch
the ugliest
and meanest
(oops, I meant
loveliest) reptiles
in their natural
habitat.
Last
week I went
for an early
morning ride
on my horse,
Baxter. We were
coming down
a steep incline
into a wash,
when I heard
the distinct
sound of a rattlesnake.
Baxter and I
stopped, he
politely standing
still while
the evil reptile
slithered in
front of us,
but the women
I was riding
with had a tough
time calming
their horses.
One old mare,
Butterfly, almost
bolted, and
the snake coiled
into a strike
mode while the
horse snorted
and stomped
around in circles.
Luckily, the
moment passed,
the snake angrily
slithering away.
I
was trying to
find the beauty
in this rattler
and wasn’t having
much success.
Then I had to
think of my
friend and New
River resident,
Diane Wilson.
For the past
twelve years,
she has had
a tarantula
migrating to
her home, and
has allowed
this hairy interloper
to have the
run of her house.
What started
out as one big,
fat spider walking
in through her
doggy door,
has become an
annual “homecoming”
of sorts. Manuel,
as she lovingly
calls her “houseguest”
arrives in late
summer, hangs
around a few
months, and
then leaves
for his winter
hibernation.
Yes,
the spirit of
the Crocodile
Hunter lives
on when we can
learn to love
a gigantic arachnid.
We might never
be able to hold
a Black Mamba
and make kissy‑kissy
sounds as we
admire its gorgeous
skin and gleaming
eyes, but then
again, we might
be able to believe
that this snake
deserves a place
on our planet
(as long as
it’s far away
from me).
I
never much liked
alligators or
crocodiles.
(I might have
even had an
alligator purse
at one time
in my life.)
But after watching
the Crocodile
Hunter champion
their existence
for the past
ten years, I
must admit I’ve
softened my
attitudes. My
grandsons were
completely heartbroken
by Steve Irwin’s
death, asking,
“Who will protect
the crocs now?”
Conservationists
everywhere lost
a friend and
fierce advocate
of wildlife.
Our kids live
in a better
world when they
are able to
find compassion
for all living
things and embrace
the always interesting,
often dangerous,
and occasionally
deadly world
of nature. I
am still trying
to find the
love in snakes
and spiders.
Hey, with awareness
comes understanding.
Crikey ... let’s
keep trying
to find the
beauty in those
beasts!
