by Luke Durling
09/15/2026
“Crocodiles are easy. They try to kill and eat you. People are harder. Sometimes they pretend to be your friend first.” -Steve Irwin
Last weekend, I saw a dear friend of mine in a way I never imagined I would.
I saw Baru the crocodile swimming at the Toledo Zoo.
It was incredible. I had never seen the kaiju I had idolized move before. He looked so happy, even snapped his mouth open a couple times, fresh back in his brand new home in the refurbished Reptile House. Even though he never moved much in my earlier visits, Baru didn’t even have to move to be impressed by his presence. He represented a part of me that was wild, a connection to my own beast made Baru a special companion on Zoo trips. While even I can understand why considering a crocodile as a friend might be unwise, but very few things that are truly wise give us such adrenaline and joy in life. Teeth and claws are merely teeth and claws until turned on us. Baru is that beautiful barbarism for me. A terror I hold tenderly because I am more in awe than afraid.
Also, I remember seeing him with my grandfather right before he died. In many ways, Baru and the Zoo are gentle reminders of his giant spirit. A contented creature is still scary to those who only see their size, or are dumb enough to discontent them. Grandpa Rathke embodied the smile of Baru in nearly all aspects, slow of speed, large in stature, big in heart, and happy in the shade. Baru is not my grandpa, but I swear I felt his hand on my shoulders as I watched my crocodile come closer than ever before. The man taught me to face my fears, and in the brine-laced water was something that made my spirit sing instead of scream.
It felt like a miracle. I had been depressed for a long time, but being able to see the beast I hold dear in such a regal way in a place I had called home ripped away all the doubts and fears from my mind, I felt excited again. I felt vindicated. Seeing all 16 feet, 1,200 lbs of majestic monstrosity look me in the eye, I felt validated. Smiling at the crocodile three inches from my face, Baru beaming back, I felt alive again.
The scales were tipped and laid clean with crocodile tears. The scales I was holding up to life were replaced with the coarse, comfortable skin of a favorite beast. I knew I should have been petrified, but for once in a long time I stared into fear and found a friend in its place. In the emerald glow and jade bubbles, I saw myself for what I could be, and saw my buddy Baru cheering me on. Even after years apart, it was wonderful to see my friend again, and to see him see me, to know what it means to be friends with a crocodile.
