Treat your neighbor as you would your moose

When a common, long-legged moose comes ambling across a road, people stop in their tracks. Motor homes, sports-utility vehicles, school buses, all come to a dead standstill as people stick their heads out windows to catch a glimpse.

It doesnt matter if the driver is a visitor from Louisiana or an old-timer who has seen more moose than he can count, they stop either way. Some hope to snap a few photos; others hope to avoid a collision.

But there is a more rare creature that does not rouse such responses. When a seldom-seen, shy pedestrian tries to make its way across a Valley street, very few brakes are applied.

Its true that we do not have size on our side. We offer no threat of totaling a vehicle. And, it is true, we are not as interesting to gawk at. But in my opinion, we few pedestrians are much more endangered than moose.

I think part of the problem is that for eight months of the year, walking along Alaska roadways is left only to those whose vehicles have become lodged in a snow bank.

Drivers only have a few months in the summer to get used to the concept of pedestrians, and by the time they remember that it is polite to allow them to cross, the snow is already flying again.

Until this summer I was like most Alaskans and spent little time walking in town. But having a baby, I have discovered, changes a lot of things. It is much easier to carry a child in a backpack from post office to bank to coffee shop than it is to buckle and unbuckle a resistant toddler from a car seat 20 times.

So this spring I took to walking in Palmer. Ill admit to not having the courage to venture into Wasilla, where crosswalks should have signs that read, enter at own risk. But Ive always thought of Palmer as being a little quieter, a little slower, and so perhaps a little safer.

Then I tried to cross the street at the four-way stop downtown. Even with what I think of as a pretty cute baby on my back, I was hard pressed to catch the eye of any driver. I felt like a dancing chicken, one foot out, then step back onto the curb. Other foot out, but no . . . that guy isnt going to stop either. Back onto the curb.

Im not the only one suffering, either. Ive seen boys on bicycles nearly run over when they had the right of way. Ive witnessed elderly couples holding onto each other for dear life as they dodge cars. Even when the green man appears on the crosswalk sign by Carrs, most motorists seem to have the bully mentality Im bigger, so I get to go first.

And to add insult to injury, the drivers often glare at us as if we were scurrying annoyances.

Occasionally I am pleasantly surprised. And, like books, you cannot judge a driver by its cover. Ive had gum-chewing teen-agers in hot rods politely stop and wave me by. Truck drivers, even knowing that they have all the right of way in the world, always let me pass. But more often than not I feel as if Im risking life and limb just to get from the gas station to Subway.

I have tried smiling cheerfully. I have tried mean looks. I have even tried walking from one end of town to the other without ever having to confront an automobile, but none of it works. Maybe Ill try strapping a pair of moose antlers to my head.

Eowyn LeMay Ivey, a lifelong Valley resident, covers education and the outdoors for the Frontiersman.