” i was born in the 1990s, and Steve Irwin, famously known as the Crocodile Hunter, was a weekly presence on my TV screen. His dedication to wildlife conservation made him a hero in my eyes.

Recently, I stumbled upon a video on YouTube from Australia Zoo, commemorating Steve Irwin Day on November 15. The video featured interviews with the zoo’s staff members, rekindling my childhood memories of the conservationist, TV star, and zookeeper.

This nostalgic moment sent me on a binge, re-watching classic documentaries like The Crocodile Hunter and Croc Files, while revisiting books and websites that celebrated his legacy.

Why did Irwin, who tragically passed in 2006 after being stung by a stingray, remain such a captivating figure for me?

For one, his infectious enthusiasm and energy for his work were undeniable. They inspired me even in my most difficult times. At nine, I was bedridden with gastroenteritis, feeling utterly drained. My mother brought home Irwin’s adventure videos, and they pulled me out of bed. I would watch, mesmerized by his love for animals, even the dangerous ones he affectionately called “beauties” or “gorgeous,” despite their fierce appearance.

His positivity motivated me to recover faster, and I began channeling that same vigor into my schoolwork.

Another reason for my admiration was that Irwin ignited my curiosity and observation skills early on. After watching his shows, I joined the Young Scientist Badge Programme at Science Centre Singapore, earning badges in zoology and ornithology by age nine. The knowledge I gained, like identifying common bird species such as the myna, deepened my appreciation for nature.

By age 11, I was eagerly reading about crocodiles, learning how to tell freshwater from saltwater species by their physical traits. These interests led to regular trips to the Singapore Zoo and Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve, where I would sketch the wildlife I encountered.

This keen eye for observation helped me later when I peered through a microscope for the first time in science class. Now, as a doctor, I use those same skills to detect signs and symptoms in patients, and to understand the human anatomy.

Irwin’s influence extended beyond observation—he also taught me empathy. One documentary episode, Crocodile of the Revolution, left a profound mark on me. Irwin rescued two crocodiles from East Timor, including one named Anthony, who had been confined in a small concrete enclosure for 13 years. His compassion for the animals and the locals, who didn’t know how to care for the creatures, was deeply moving.

Irwin’s empathy wasn’t limited to animals; it extended to his team as well. In The Crocodile Hunter Diaries, Irwin and his colleague Wes Mannion took turns caring for a pregnant reticulated python, ensuring both men got enough rest.

These moments underscored his deep respect for both humans and wildlife, values that continue to resonate with me today.

In Singapore, there have been concerns about otter attacks, much like how Australia deals with crocodiles. Irwin’s approach to relocating and conditioning crocodiles to avoid human interactions offers valuable insights. His strategies—like teaching crocodiles to avoid humans by associating them with unpleasant stimuli—might inspire similar solutions for managing wildlife in urban settings.

Irwin’s legacy is a reminder of the delicate balance between humans and nature. I hope that wildlife experts can step in with similar passion and knowledge to address these challenges, so we can coexist harmoniously with the animals around us, just as Irwin envisioned.”