DEAD BEES STILL STING

A catalog of animal encounters from a semirural home.

“Nature is hard and cruel and beautiful, but sometimes, it surprises us,” writes Cormier, a spoken-word artist, filmmaker, and beekeeper. The essays in this book take up residence in those moments of surprise—when we encounter nature as something unexpected and worthy of wonder. First, there’s the titular fascination with bees and beekeeping (keeping bees is something Cormier came to by accident, after rescuing her partner’s broken hive from a branch, and is a hobby that she takes to passionately). Then there are all manner of creatures moving through their small acreage in Canada. Everything from hummingbirds, hawks, kittens, fawns, and rabbits to a stubborn apple tree affectionately called Bill and an unintentionally adopted quail named Birb make their way into their lives by happenstance. The problems in these essays are often simple—a bee trapped in a skirt is freed through the removal of the skirt, an animal disrupting the quail pen is kept out with better re-enforcement and live traps—yet they are drawn out extensively. An overreliance on the braided essay keeps even the smallest dramas suspended across time, while more serious topics are given comparatively small shares of the story. Nonetheless, there are moments of lucid import to be found. Flavors of the honey that change with the season and then change again with habitat destruction. An examination of burial. The things that draw us to other creatures. “The act of existing is chaotic,” Cormier reminds us. We could all hope to be as empathetic as Cormier amid the chaos: to be the kind of person who, leaving a trough of water out for thirsty wild animals, remembers to put a brick inside in case any baby rabbits fall in and need a way out.

A love letter to the pastoral for the everyday reader.