Twenty years have passed since the world lost Steve Irwin and the shock of that September day still sits with people who grew up watching him. On 4 September 2006 the Crocodile Hunter was filming off Far North Queensland when a stingray struck him in the chest. He was 44.
The weather had already forced a change of plan that morning. The crew had been working on a documentary called Ocean’s Deadliest when conditions turned. They ended up in calmer, shallower water and Steve decided to film a stingray instead. That last minute choice is the one that cost him his life.
Stingrays are not known for attacking people. This one reacted when Steve moved above it. The barb went through his chest and the injury was catastrophic. His crew pulled him toward the boat and fought to keep him conscious. Cameraman Justin Lyons later said they kept telling him to think of his children and to hang on. Steve looked up at him and said, “I’m dying.” Those were the last words he spoke.
The cameras were rolling. That footage has never been shown. Producer and close friend John Stainton saw it and refused to let it go out. Terri Irwin has said she never watched it herself. She already knew how her husband died and she was grateful the children were not on the boat that day, as they so often were.
Bindi was eight when it happened. Robert was two. This week both of them marked the anniversary. Bindi called her father a guardian angel and said his greatest legacy turned out to be love, not just the conservation work everyone remembers. Her five year old daughter watches his old documentaries every morning and feels loved by the grandfather she never met. She calls him grandpa crocodile. Robert has followed the same path into wildlife work and photography. Together with their mother they still run Australia Zoo and the conservation projects Steve started.
Steve grew up around animals. His parents opened a reptile park that became Australia Zoo. The Crocodile Hunter made him famous, but the point of the show was always the same. He wanted people to understand wildlife instead of fearing it. That message is the part his family keeps repeating. The khaki shirt and the “Crikey” are what people remember first. The work is what they want remembered now.
The recording of those last minutes stays locked away. Twenty years on, the family would rather people look at the life he lived than the moment it ended.
