In an attempt to avert impending tragedy, Morgan Freeman has given honeybees access to his farm.
The world’s most beloved storyteller aspires to provide a fresh narrative for the declining honeybee population by granting them access to his 124 acres of property. In 2014, the 81-year-old actor turned his Mississippi property into a bee sanctuary after taking up beekeeping as a pastime. He planted acre upon acre of bee-attracting plants, such as clover, lavender, and magnolia trees, and brought in 26 bee hives from Arkansas.
He gave the bees sugar water to help them get used to their new habitat, and he claims that even though he hasn’t worn a cap or protective suit, he has never been stung. Freeman’s mission is to assist in repopulating the declining honeybee population; he does not collect honey from the bees or interfere with their hives.
Building a bee sanctuary, according to Freeman, is his way of contributing to the reconstruction of “the foundation of the growth of the planet.”
In a 2016 Larry King Live interview, Freeman described his motivation for converting his property into a haven for honeybees.
“Bee colonies have been losing a great deal, especially in this nation,” he informed King. “To the point where scientists are now warning that this is dangerous.”
Shortly after moving the hives to his property in 2014, Freeman spoke with Jimmy Fallon about his passion of beekeeping. “There is a concerted effort for bringing bees back onto the planet,” he added. “I believe they are the basis for the planet’s growth, the vegetation, but we are unaware of this.”
Honeybees and other insects are essential to human crop pollination. The loss of pollinators will negatively impact our food supply. Losing the bee population could have catastrophic effects on life as we know it.
Why do bees go extinct? There are several solutions, and a lot of them include human interference.
In a poll released last year by Auburn University and University of Maryland, American beekeepers reported that 40 percent of their colonies had collapsed the year before, a 33% rise from the year before. There are several different causes for the die-off.
For the past ten or so years, some bee species have been affected by colony collapse disorder. Numerous potential explanations have been proposed by scientists, including pesticides, environmental stressors, a lack of genetic variation within colonies, and mite infestations.
The survey’s researchers speculate that bees could be another victim of climate change. The weather and temperature have an impact on bee food and forage, according to Geoffrey Williams, an assistant professor at Auburn, who spoke to Bloomberg. It should be rather evident that bees that are already on the verge of collapse will fare less well in the event of a sudden and drastic change in the weather.
Moreover, pesticides are at fault. Commonly employed in agricultural regions, neonicotinoid pesticides kill bees and prevent them from reproducing. According to scientists, these chemicals gradually reduce bee populations and are especially hazardous to queen bees, which has an impact on bee populations over time.
Bravo to Freeman for building a wholesome haven for honeybees. We all have a responsibility to the environment, and every action we take to safeguard the environment has an impact.
I Found a Girl Alone on a Dark Road – What I Saw When I Got Closer Will Haunt You
Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother sees a young girl in a torn dress, quiet and strangely familiar. As she drives closer, she notices the girl’s sad eyes, filled with secrets that might be best left unknown.
It was late, and the night seemed darker than ever. The fog hugged the car like a thick blanket, hiding everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, holding the steering wheel tighter than usual.
“Just get home,” I whispered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been a long day at work, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed.
I always avoided this road. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I thought: A quick shortcut will save time.
Then, I noticed something in the distance. A shadow in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding. The outline was faint, but it was there in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox,” I whispered, though I knew it wasn’t. As I drove closer, I realized it was a girl. She looked thin, and her white dress was in tatters.
A chill ran down my spine. Every instinct told me to turn back, but something held me there.
I cracked open the window, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
I stepped out of the car with a flashlight. The beam lit up her face, and I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes—it was my daughter.
“Emily?” I whispered, barely believing it. She looked at me, eyes empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was faint, like a distant echo.
Shock and relief overwhelmed me. It was Emily, my daughter who’d been missing for five years. She had vanished without a trace, and no one knew what had happened to her.
“Emily, oh my God… it’s you,” I stammered, stepping closer. “Are you hurt? Where have you been?”
She blinked slowly, her expression blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, like she hadn’t spoken in years.
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. We’re going home now, alright?” I wrapped my coat around her thin shoulders and led her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out into the fog.
The drive home was quiet. I glanced over at her, but her face was blank, as if she were somewhere far away.
“Emily,” I asked gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was dark. There was a man, but I can’t remember his face.”
My throat tightened. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We’re going home.”
When we got home, she sat on the couch, looking around as if everything was unfamiliar. I asked if she remembered the place, but she only shrugged. Her voice was flat and empty.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her, feeling her icy skin. The days that followed were tense. Emily was distant, barely speaking. The only time I heard her voice clearly was when she sang an old lullaby I used to sing to her. It felt strange because she shouldn’t have remembered it.
One day, I found her looking at old photo albums. Her fingers traced a picture of her father, Mark. He had died when she was a baby.
“Mom?” she said, confused. “I know him.”
I felt a chill. “That’s your dad, honey. I’ve told you about him.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, I know him from… the place.”
A cold wave of fear washed over me. Emily couldn’t remember Mark, but she knew someone who looked like him. It had to be his brother, Jake. They looked so alike, almost like twins.
I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore. I needed answers.
The next morning, I drove to our old family cabin deep in the woods. It had been abandoned for years, but something felt off when I arrived. One of the windows was covered with a cloth. Why would someone do that?
I pushed the door open, dust swirling in the air. Everything was untouched except for a small room in the back. Inside, toys lay scattered, worn but well-loved. My heart sank. This was where Emily had been kept.
I called the police immediately. Hours later, Emily sat quietly with me as the officers searched the cabin. She clutched her blanket, looking small and sad.
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered. “It was Uncle Jake. He looked like Daddy, but different. He would bring food and hum that song.”
The police confirmed it that night. They found enough evidence to arrest Jake. He confessed, saying he had taken Emily to “protect” her, wanting her to rely on him. It was twisted and horrifying to realize he had been so close all this time.
When Emily heard the truth, she broke down, crying out the pain she had held inside for so long. I hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “No one will take you away again.”
In the days that followed, Emily started to open up more. She would hum the lullaby at night, as if testing if it was safe to sing it again.
One evening, we sat together by the window. She leaned against me, and I softly hummed the lullaby like I used to. She looked up at me with a hint of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
Tears filled my eyes as I held her close. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
Leave a Reply