Mu the Croc: Sunbeams, Straw and Scholarship

If you were to look into Mu the Croc’s eyes—a pastime best described as bold when dealing with a Nile crocodile—you’d find a gaze uncannily reminiscent of the Blinking Planetary Nebula. There’s something quietly mind-boggling in there, ancient and unhurried, paired with an unsettling kind of heavy‑tailed precision.

You might wonder if the spectacles perched on his lengthy snout have something to do with his lack of elegance. However, Mu wears those simply because he likes the “look”. He chooses that look every time he reads, which, since he reads whenever he’s basking, is quite a lot. A scholarly crocodile, with a book resting on a river rock, pages and everything else turned by his breath, is simply part of the local scenery now.

The Paradox of the Straw Hat

Then there’s the brimmed straw sun hat, a choice that confuses anyone with even a casual understanding of crocodilian biology. A Nile crocodile is, after all, a living solar panel built to charge up on celestial rays.

So why the hat? Mu says he likes the “look”. This, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the little headaches he gets if he’s out in the sun too much. A light‑sensitive, bookish crocodile is an absurdity Mu carries with total confidence.

The Diplomacy of the Tail

Mu keeps his tail mostly still these days. A momentary twitch has been known to accidentally swish his friends across the riverbank—something one can get away with when it involves warthogs or hippos, yet impala are far less receptive to an “Oh, sorry”.

Mu’s personal record is flattening seven at once. They were all uninjured, Mu proudly states. The apology, though, required half a ton of mixed leaves with a decent haul of acacia seed pods, all carried on Mu’s back for two lion‑miles from a local elephant trading post. Elephants, as it turns out, will happily trade half a ton of leaves for a decent watering hole location.

The Measurement of the Plains

Out here, distances are measured in lion‑miles, which are quite different from termite‑miles. Most mammals of the African Plains have worked by this standard for millennia—or so says Babby, the oldest baobab tree, who has seen it all.

A Moment of Mu‑Style Study

In the accompanying Mu animation, we catch a rare glimpse of Mu pausing his studies for a quick, muddy slurp of water. The book is waiting, the sun is shining, and Mu returns almost immediately to the serious business of reading.