I need help for my addiction

It looks like our neighbourhood has become cockatoo party central. This morning there was an even bigger group in yesterday's spot.





I counted 67 cockatoos in that flock, and there was another party of around 30 half a block further on (by which time my camera had sadly run out of batteries).

Unfortunately it's not really possible to give an accurate idea of the size of the flock without taking some sort of panoramic shot that would end up being ridiculously small on this blog. And pictures of white polka dots are not all that interesting, really.

A little bit closer to uni, I found another, smaller flock. One little guy (or gal) had strayed a little from the crowd and was sitting right in the middle of the cycle path. I slowed as I approached him, because I don't deliberately run over parrots, but he wasn't going anywhere. He had found himself an acorn and had that in his left claw,* and with only one leg free, he couldn't exactly walk off the path, now could he? And I couldn't expect someone as important and busy as him to stop eating long enough to pander to my needs as a cyclist.

So I got off my bike and walked around him. Got within less than a metre of him without him seeming at all bothered by the experience. He just gave me The Look. The one that said, "Piss off. My cycle path. Eating now."

I wish my camera had still been functional for that one.

But what I don't understand is the five or so other people who passed these flocks without stopping and compulsively taking 73 photos from different angles, or cooing stupidly at the birds who made eye-contact and telling them they were pretty.

On the other hand, these cold-hearted bastards staunch Australians probably didn't get to university 45 minutes late.

Does anyone know if there is treatment available for my obsession?

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* I learned in a completely unrelated seminar yesterday that all cockatoos are left-handed.