Gratitude from the Field: A Thanksgiving Reflection

From the desk (and campervan) of Sarah Red-Laird

As the 2025 field season winds down and our campervan returns home to Ashland after logging another 11,590 miles across the West, I find myself sitting with a cup of coffee (okay, fine, a fancy cappuccino), reflecting on what it means to chase bees for a living—and the extraordinary web of relationships that makes this work possible.

Gratitude for the Land & Her Stewards

Over the last couple of years we’ve documented 28 genera, including 134 bee species, across the ranches and vineyards we call our outdoor laboratories. Among them: five vulnerable or endangered bumble bee species that shouldn't exist according to conventional agricultural wisdom—and yet they thrive on working lands managed by producers who care deeply about the whole ecosystem, not just the commodity they're raising.

To the ranchers and vintners who trust us with access to your land, your time, and your willingness to experiment: Thank you. Your openness to questions like "What if we used virtual fencing to protect bee refugia?" or "Could we plant phacelia between these vine rows?" is what makes real conservation innovation possible.

To the Anderson family—spanning four ranches and 56,900 acres across Montana's most stunning landscapes—thank you for three years of patience as we've moved from strangers to trusted colleagues to friends. Your commitment to coexisting with wolves, grizzlies, beavers, AND native bees is rewriting what's possible in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.

To Andrew at J Bar L, experimenting with virtual fencing to protect pollinator hotspots. To the teams at North Bridger Bison and the Dakota Partnership Ranch, moving 27,000 acres of bison with bee habitat in mind. To our vineyard partners who host volunteer planting days and let us turn their tasting rooms into pop-up galleries—you are the backbone of this work.

Gratitude for Scientific Partners Who Bridge Worlds

To our collaborators at USDA-ARS, who analyze pollen samples to help us to get a better understanding of how regenerative ag affects bee nutrition: Your rigor makes our story credible.

To the taxonomists who verify our identifications, ensuring that when we say we found an endangered Bombus fraternus (the southern plains bumble bee) or the adorable Anthophorula pygmaea (pygmy bee), we mean it—thank you for the scientific integrity you bring to every specimen.

Gratitude for Community That Holds Us Up

To Ginelle, our Co-Director of Operations, who joined us in 2023 and has been quietly revolutionizing how this scrappy nonprofit functions: You are the reason we can imagine a future where Sarah spends less time writing grant applications and more time in the field. Your patience with payroll, your grace with volunteers, your yoga-teacher calm when everything feels chaotic—we are so grateful.

To our volunteers who show up for vineyard planting days in the rain, honey harvest and bottling sessions that run long, and exhibition setups that require more ladder-climbing than expected: You log 200+ hours annually because you believe bees matter. That belief fuels us.

To our donors—from the major gifts that keep the lights on to the $20 contributions that arrive with notes like "Keep doing what you're doing"—you make it possible for us to say yes to opportunities like expanding to American Prairie's 52,000 acres or launching Beetreats for women in agriculture.

To Savannah Bee Company, whose partnership goes beyond financial support to amplifying our message to customers who care about where their honey comes from and what bees need to thrive—thank you for seeing the connection between commerce and conservation.

Gratitude for 134 Species of Teachers

And perhaps most of all, gratitude for the bees themselves.

For Bombus occidentalis, the western bumble bee, clinging to survival in landscapes where it shouldn't be able to—and teaching us that "threatened" doesn't mean "gone," just "in need of attention."

For the ground-nesting Anthophora species that show us where soil is still alive, where disturbance and rest are in balance.

For Megachile fortis, the robust sunflower leafcutter bee, reminding us that "robust" creatures can still be vulnerable when habitat disappears acre by acre.

For the hundreds of specimens now carefully pinned, labeled, and donated to the U.S. National Pollinating Insects Collection—each one a tiny ambassador saying, "We were here. We mattered. Someone noticed."

What We're Carrying Into 2026

This Thanksgiving, we're carrying gratitude—but also momentum.

We're expanding the Bison & Bee Habitat Project to American Prairie in 2026, adding 52,000 acres of conservation potential and opportunities to engage the public in why bison and bees belong together on these prairies.

We're launching Beetreats for Women in Agriculture—bringing women together for ecological knowledge, community building, and the kind of self-care that's hard to find when you're stewarding land in isolation.

We're deepening our work in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem from a single research question into something bigger: collaborative monitoring, youth education, and grazing management that explicitly considers where the bees are nesting.

We're continuing to translate science into art through Bee Habitat in Cyanotype, because sometimes people need to feel something before they can understand it—and there's something about seeing a flower pressed in Prussian blue that makes people stop and ask, "Tell me about these bees."

An Invitation

If you're reading this over Thanksgiving weekend—maybe between pie and a long walk, or while avoiding dish duty—we'd love to hear what you're grateful for in the natural world this year.

Reply to this email. Tell us about a bee you saw. A wildflower that surprised you. A moment when you felt connected to something larger than yourself.

Because ultimately, that's what this work is about: remembering we're part of something intricate and beautiful, and we each have a role in keeping it whole.

From all of us at Bee Regenerative—Sarah, Ginelle, and the 134 species we’ve had the privilege of meeting —thank you for being part of this journey.

May your Thanksgiving be filled with good food, good company, and the kind of gratitude that makes you want to get up and do something beautiful in the world.

🐝

P.S. If you're feeling inspired and want to support our work heading into 2026, we're still raising funds for vehicle maintenance (that campervan has stories to tell) and field equipment for next season. Every contribution helps us say yes to more ranches, more bees, more discovery. [Donate here] or share this newsletter with someone who loves bees as much as we do.

P.P.S. Mark your calendars: Our next in-person event is Friday, December 19th at the Drift Collective in Ashland. Come have a glass of wine with us, taste our 2025 spring and summer vintages from our Highway 66 AVA, learn about the bees, and take home something delicious and beautiful.