Treadwell Twin Meets Tennyson

In the aftermath of the death of the beloved Australian naturalist, Steve Irwin, I am left with feelings of both sadness and frustration. Irwin, better known as the "Crocodile Hunter", was killed yesterday off the northwest coast of Australia when the dirty dagger of a large stingray pierced his heart.

His death comes little more than a year after the release of Werner Herzog's fabulous documentary of the life of the flaky self-avowed naturalist, Timothy Treadwell--"The Grizzly Man." Both Treadwell and Irwin shared an intense love for animals that transcended appreciation on its way toward obsession.

I write this not to demean these men, but to put their lives in perspective. They were unique men for good reasons. They took risks, calculated risks, most every day. (In Treadwell's case, he lived with Grizzly bears for months at a time.) To the layman these risks seemed extraordinary, but to men like Treadwell and Irwin they were quite routine.

Timothy Treadwell lived in a dream world for the better part of his life. In his world, animals were pure good. The altruistic qualities he saw in humans were borrowed from the animal kingdom--referring quite often to the "people's world" as being separate from his own. In his mind, animals only lashed out when they were confronted and they carried with them a preternatural desire for fellowship with humans--humans that understood their idiosyncracies like Treadwell did.

When Treadwell would gaze into the eyes of a Grizzly, he would see something that the rest of us would not. He saw more than a simple sentient creature. Treadwell saw a creature that was thoughtful and rational--and certainly not simply utilitarian. His inability to grasp nature in all its fatalistic grandeur cost him his life. In the end, Treadwell and his lady friend were eaten by an older bear looking for a pre-hiberation meal.

Irwin was certainly not the eccentric that Treadwell was, nor is it fair to equate the two in terms of their knowledge of ecology. However, I am convinced that Irwin shared with Treadwell that same perverse belief in the conviviality of all animals that is rooted in knowledge and knowledge alone.

Men like Irwin, Treadwell, and Jim Fowler (of "Wild Kingdom" fame) are actually averse to referring to animals as "dangerous." To them, animals are only dangerous in the absence of knowledge. This, for them, is how they transform run-of-the-mill "risks" into "calculated risks." Armed with their knowledge, wild nature becomes knowable and, potentially, livable.

To my way of thinking, there is only one example of perfect knowledge to be found in the animal kingdom, at least in terms of behavior. In 1850, Lord Alfred Tennyson published his epic poem "In Memoriam" in which you will find this little nugget of truth:

Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation's final law
Tho' nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek'd against his creed

This is perfect knowledge.

Nature is chaos, violence and pain and when human beings overreach the boundaries of wild nature we must play by its rules.

The golden rule of nature is that the strong survive; but, the strength of knowledge becomes weakness when its antecedent confidence convinces men to encroach upon wild nature.

Nature, truly, is red in tooth and claw.