We have our choice of several reality TV series depicting life in the Alaskan wilderness. The lifestyle of rugged self-dependence appeals to our culture, which seems predictable, safe, soft and humdrum by comparison.

One recent episode featured a father and son voluntarily making a day’s journey by snow machine to check on a neighbor who lived alone. “Neighbor” is a relative term — their homesteads were miles apart — yet they spoke of a shared obligation to look out for each other, particularly in winter when, as the father explained, even the hardiest soul begins to see and hear things that aren’t really there.

That’s not hard to imagine. Temperatures far below zero, weeks of nonstop night, and isolation take their toll on the human psyche.

Alaskan bush people must be tough, independent people. But they understand their need to rely on each other for survival. It’s a give-and-take element of their fabric — those who need help aren’t expected to ask for it, and those who can give help don’t wait to be asked.

They also understand it’s not just about physical need. There’s an emotional and spiritual aspect to getting through the long winter’s night together.

So, other than making compelling television, what does survival in the Arctic wilderness have to do with us?

Consider the front-page report Thursday about the former Butler woman’s arrest on suspicion of kicking her infant daughter to death. Kayla M. Moore, 23, of Morrisville, Pa., will spend the rest of her life in prison if convicted of criminal homicide, felony aggravated assault and misdemeanor endangering the welfare of children.

Police say Moore confessed. Investigators said the infant’s body appeared malnourished and “terribly battered”. An autopsy found blunt force trauma as the cause of death.

It’s easy to read a story like this, say a few “tsk, tsk’s” and turn the page. It’s a common reaction to condemn a young mother to the fate she apparently has decided for herself, or to wish a more permanent justice equal to the fate of her now-dead child.

But stop a moment and ponder what the Alaskan bush people know that we in the lower 48 seem to have forgotten.

Morrisville, a suburb of Philadelphia and Trenton, N.J., is densely populated, warm, humid, and strikingly unlike the Arctic wilderness. But in both locations there exists an isolation where even the hardiest soul begins to see and hear things that aren’t really there.

“Our theory was, Mom was under a lot of stress, and she just snapped,” Lt. Henry Ward of the Falls Township Police Department said at a news conference on Wednesday.

There were no signs of drug or alcohol abuse, and no criminal record, Ward said, but he added Moore appeared “drained” and things at home were “tight” — Moore slept on an air mattress, although there was a bed for the girl and a young sister. There was also a boyfriend living there, but there’s no evidence he witnessed any beating or other abuse.

What mother of young children has never experienced exhaustion and frustration, even isolation in her daily routine?

The more compelling question might be this: If we’re so mesmerized by TV shows about Alaskans feeling obliged to check on the welfare of their neighbors, then why shouldn’t we be doing a better job checking on our own neighbors in Pennsylvania?