The mood of the book is bittersweet. Kimmerer impresses upon readers the serious grief she feels at seeing species threatened by industrial sprawl and other manifestations of capitalist greed. At the same time, she also spurs the reader on to hope for a better world.
One example occurs in Chapter 29, after Kimmerer returns home from the roadside where she tried to save salamanders from the threat of passing cars:
“Weep! Weep!” calls a toad from the water’s edge. And I do. If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.
Kimmerer and the toad grieve together for the salamanders crushed on the road on their way to give birth in a pond across the way. Kimmerer could never have saved them all. Even her valiant efforts were thwarted when she ran into researchers conducting a salamander mortality survey. The researchers needed accurate numbers to convince the government to build a safe passageway for the salamanders to cross the road. Weighing the future good of such a passageway against the evil of letting more salamanders die now, Kimmerer walked away. Her grief over the salamanders she is sacrificing overwhelms her.
Even in this moment, however, Kimmerer argues that "grief can be a doorway to love." By allowing herself to grieve for the salamanders, she comes to love them even more. That love is what drives her to keep working toward a better world, where so many salamanders are not splattered on the road by drivers just trying to get home. Kimmerer wants her readers not to remain numb to their grief over "the world we are breaking apart," but rather to let their grief motivate them to heal the world and their relationship to it.