Wallaby Wednesday: Turdy, the live-fast-die-young type of bird

If only Rocko and Dr. Hutchison knew the finer points of Turdus Minimus. Then they might have been more understanding of Filburt’s precautionary tearful good-bye to his “precious Turdy.” In addition, the pet-sitting wallaby could have been ready to expect the unexpected while the bird was alive and in his house.

According to Google Translate, the scientific name of this ficticious species translates to “Sylvia least.” Other sources note that the first name connotes relations to a robin. Based on that, Turdy is somehow the least of the thrush (or Turdidae) family.

As “Bye-Bye Birdie” demonstrates, he has the least amount of time to live of any known avian pet. By that token, he also has the least to lose, and his actions suggest he knows it. Based on his sentiments when they part early in the third-season premiere of Rocko’s Modern Life, Filburt knows it too.

When another psychosomatic flare-up sends Filburt to the hospital, he bids what appears to be a melodramatic good-bye to his bird. Hutch rolls her eyes as Filburt tells Turdy to “Remember who loves you the most! That’s right, Papa loves you the most!”

But when he reappears and learns of Turdy’s abrupt death, he indirectly explains his prior emotions. He even admits to neglecting to mention a pertinent fact beforehand.

As it happens, Turdy was of a species that normally does not live beyond three weeks. By contrast, the real-life American robin (or Turdus migratoris) lives for an average of two years. One study found that roughly one-quarter of the population reaches one year.

An exceptional specimen of the American robin reportedly reached the age of 14. In Europe, members of six other Turdus species have exceeded expectations to tunes ranging between seven and 21 years.

But even at one year, Turdus migratoris dwarfs Turdus minimus in its expected time on Earth. To that point, in reference to Turdy, Filburt adds, “I’m surprised he lived as long as he did.”

Whether he is merely mindful of the species’ average lifespan because of its listing in books in unclear. Filburt might know more as to why the lifespan is so short. Based on Rocko’s brief experience with the bird, Turdus minimus has a penchant for peril.

Then again, as far as he lets on, Turdy’s worst behavior in Filburt’s residence was pecking at the furniture. Perhaps the bird’s biological clock had not reached its not-much-time-left warning point before Filburt went to the hospital.

Being in a new setting and away from his doting owner is bound to give him a greater sense of leeway as well. After all, Dr. Hutchison offers Rocko no warning at the beginning of the episode. There may be something to her tired “Good luck” wish, but perhaps she is relenting and refraining from making any points that would upset Filburt. It is bad enough that she does not want to kiss the bird.

Or maybe she has never faced anything warranting a visit from the avian equivalent of Jackson Galaxy. As Filburt’s girlfriend, soon-to-be fiancée and eventual wife, she has implicitly not been a target for Turdy’s pecking.

Even if she had been, at the very worst, that phase ended in due time as the two grew on each other. Although Hutch’s indifference to Filburt’s emotions signal the pet has not wholly endeared himself to her either.

By contrast, being surrounded and approached by strangers can make the bird anything but boring. Even if he is not rattled by the change of scenery, he is poised to play while Filburt is away. He is less susceptible to guilt if his loving owner is not around to potentially admonish him.

Regardless, no later than when he reaches his maximum expectancy, Turdy is more inclined to elevate his inner nuisance. And so, Spunky is his first victim as soon as he breaks out of his cage at Rocko’s. The customers of a complaintant later suffer the same pain by pecking.

All things considered, pecking fellow living creatures is a mere next step from doing the same to inanimate objects. For the bird, that is no different than the way domestic, non-humanoid, territorial cats rub their heads against people and furniture alike.

The what-the-heck, death-defying steps continue. As the episode highlights, Turdy’s most daring and dangerous vices start with repeated intimate interactions with a man’s monkey. He subsequently escapes the house to engage in seven other aggravating activities.

Beyond the typically avian misbehaviors, he ingests enough gas to breathe fire, sets a car ablaze and devours a pony. Inexplicably, the timeless nursery-rhyme old lady’s undoing has no visible effect on the bird that has already stretched its lifespan.

Like Homer Simpson, in the words of Frank Grimes, he logically “should have been killed dozens of times by now.” Even “the monkey guy” could have worked up enough rage to inflict physical harm on the bird. Given the revelation that confirms the nature of the bird-monkey relations, he could have snapped at what he witnessed.

Yet neither emotionally boiled-over humanoids nor flames nor oversized meals spell mortal injury. Whether Turdy has naturally aged or is of a species whose behavior regularly shorterns their lives, he is going against the norm. Barring fatal intervention by another species, he could enter the record books.

Instead, Turdy is sitting placidly, chained to Rocko on the couch, when he finally meets his demise. Heffer’s gargantuan gluteus, which will later nurture Filburt and Hutch’s unhatched children, does in the nuisance bird.

It all happens on the living room’s symbol of inertia, the antithesis of activity. Turdy had thrived on activity, defying death and scientific trajectories all the while. So in terms of keeping him alive, it was the quiet times his caregiver needed to watch out for.