Carter Roberts on the wonder of the Brood X cicadas

In June of 1970, a young artist stepped to the stage at Princeton University to receive an honorary degree and was so moved by the din of Brood X cicadas in the surrounding sycamores and oaks that he penned the following words to a song he called “Day of the Locusts.”

As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree
And the locusts sang off in the distance
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me

—Bob Dylan*

Cicadas astonish. Scientists believe the prime number 13- and 17-year cycles evolved to avoid more frequent and composite number predator population cycles. Researchers theorize their vast numbers are designed to overwhelm natural predators and ensure their own survival—a strategy known as “predator satiation.”

As for the pulsing sound of billions of creatures singing at once? Turns out they were not really singing to a younger Bob Dylan on that stage in New Jersey. They were using rapidly vibrating, drum-like tymbals on each side of their abdomens to attract mates and repel birds.

I missed Brood X in 1970 since I grew up in Atlanta. And while my hometown had an abundance of cheese straws, pickled okra, and BBQ, there were not billions of locusts singing for me.

I missed Brood X in 1987 since I was in Boston in a generally sleep-deprived state, surviving the end of my first year of business school. Nary a Brood X cicada in sight.

But by 2004 I was married with three kids, and we moved to Maryland, where my wife Jackie had grown up and where she began her career. In February of that year, I started commuting into Washington, DC, for a new job in a building whose front doors were flanked by pandas.

The 2004 Brood X did not disappoint. It was every bit as thunderous and astonishing as it is today. It filled the air with its deafening sound, animated the trees around our house, and decorated the sidewalks in our neighborhood.

WWF did not disappoint either. It offered me abundant opportunities to learn from and work with gifted people to make a difference in the world. Some of our most celebrated programs were well established when I came on board, while others were in their infancy or not yet imagined.

For example, in 2004 WWF worked with the government of Brazil, the World Bank, the Moore Foundation, the Global Environment Facility, and many others in starting the Amazon Region Protected Areas (ARPA) initiative. Together, we succeeded in establishing a vast area of parks equal to one and a half times the size of California. It was the world’s largest conservation program but still struggled to raise funds for an endowment to keep the park system intact. Seventeen years later, building on that success, a new approach to performance-based financing had evolved. It reached its consummation in a groundbreaking deal with a syndicate of donors and partners, ensuring that this important work was funded at the level—and for the duration—required. The approach was repeated in Bhutan, Peru, and Colombia. And now, a nascent collaboration with some of the biggest players in conservation and philanthropy is poised to take this promising approach global—more to come in 2022.

In 2004, truly community-based, inclusive conservation was cherished but rare. It was cherished when it worked—as in Namibia and Nepal—but not understood as fundamental to lasting conservation success on a global scale. That understanding has evolved, and today we have far deeper and broader systems to make sure communities have the seat at the table that they deserve. And in this past year we have pioneered the creation of new positions and commitments that ensure communities are the main protagonists and beneficiaries of conservation where we work and that their voices guide the work we do.

Seventeen years ago, WWF’s Science program began to pivot from the “where” to the “how.” It moved from mapping and setting conservation priorities to building greater understanding of the complex systems of place, and to devising creative approaches to create the right interventions to keep those complex systems intact. We’ve begun implementing standards for greening supply chains; understanding the relationship between nature and human health; and devising innovations to meet the needs of a growing population while restoring nature, stabilizing climate, and so much more.

Seventeen years ago, our work with business focused on making commodity supply chains more sustainable through certification systems like the Marine Stewardship Council and the Forest Stewardship Council. Almost two decades later, we now partner with more than 100 companies to transform their networks of suppliers, partners, consumers, and employees into powerful forces for good. For example, more than 1,000 businesses are working with our Science-Based Targets initiative to reduce their emissions in line with climate science. And now hundreds of millions of corporate dollars are being invested in nature-based solutions, and we’re partnering with companies like McDonald’s and Walmart to launch platforms for their suppliers to deliver massive emissions reductions and restore the nature upon which we all depend.

*Dylan shared the common misapprehension that the periodical cicada is a type of locust. It is not. Locusts are a type of short-horned grasshopper and belong to the order Orthoptera, along with all other grasshoppers and crickets, while cicadas are Hemipterans, which are considered “true bugs” and include aphids and planthoppers. Hey, even Dylan makes mistakes.