In a remote Macedonian village without streets, electricity or running water, Hatidze Muratova, with her approximately 50 years, climbs up the mountainside every day. She makes her way to the rock crevices where her bee colonies live. Without face protection and with bare hands, she gently takes out the honeycombs, singing a soothing song the whole time. Back on the farm, she takes care of the handmade bee hives and her bedridden mother. Occasionally, she travels to the far away capital city to sell her honey. Hatidze is the last in a long line of Macedonian wild bee keepers who earn their living with the collection of wild honey. Her peaceful existence is suddenly and subtly disturbed: a nomad family arrives with earsplitting vehicles, seven raucous children and a wild confusion of racing cattle. Overcoming her initial fright, Hatidze makes contact with her new neighbors, making friends, above all, with the children. But then, spurred on by a tradesman from the city, the family patriarch decides he wants to produce honey on a large scale. In his hunt for profit, he ignores Hatidze’s prudent advice and breaks one of the central rules of sustainable beekeeping: only to take half of the honey and to leave the rest for the bees. The consequences are dramatic for bees and people alike. Honeyland traces the changes that have gradually infiltrated the relationship between humans and nature. Employing instruments of cinematic poetry, the directors place the bees at the epicenter of one of our times fundamental contradictions, showing the consequences careless human behavior has for natural resources and the environment.