I didn’t know he grew up in my suburb, a few streets away, or that he first looked for critters along the Moonee Ponds Creek, where I did, in 1971. (I didn’t want to. It was a school project.) I learned this after his death.
Now he has been farewelled and in the words of his brave daughter Bindi, I will never see a crocodile without thinking of Steve Irwin. I’ll just get well out of the way first.