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THE SHAPE OF THINGS -- ILLUSTRATED SCREENPLAY & SCREENCAP GALLERY |
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Directed by Neil Goodwin in collaboration with John Borden. Produced for NOVA by Peace River Films.© 1985 WGBH/Peace River Films, Inc. (Transcribed from the movie by Tara Carreon, American-Buddha.com Librarian) The Shape of Things -- Illustrated Screenplay & Screencap Gallery Our world is made up of a variety of shapes. Often their beauty is the outward appearance of an underlying structure. What forces determine the shape of our natural world? This will be a journey amidst nature's diversity to discover a small vocabulary of forms that reveal the secret behind the shape of things. Nature is a kaleidoscope of shapes. Some are made by animals, like insects. Some are the growth forms of plants. And some, the patterns of crystals. The same basic shapes appear again and again. Is it coincidence, or is it because each of these shapes works in some unique way? What do things that resemble each other really have in common, and how do they get their shapes? This will be a journey of discovery through familiar, natural surroundings, beneath the surface of things, and into the way different forms are made. It isn't always obvious, but there may be a pattern in the way a river bends, and in the way trees are spaced in a forest, and in the way lilies grow in a pond. Whatever the process may be that leads to form, one thing seems clear: natural things produce many variations on a few basic themes, for nature is a maker of shapes. THE SHAPE OF THINGS At the submicroscopic level, there is an underlying order in the chemistry of the formation of these crystals. They have a rigid substructure determined by the way their atoms and molecules fit together. Just as the shapes of these crystals echo their internal structure, the shape of any natural thing depends on its composition and the forces acting upon it. The forms described by geometry and mathematics are not just abstract ideas. The sphere, the polygon, the spiral, the helix, the meander, and the branch are familiar throughout nature. Shapes like these are the signposts of order amid nature's abundant variety. Even within a drop of water, there is a teeming diversity of life. Microscopic living things inhabit a world as rich and varied as our own. These are spherical colonies of individual algae called volvox. The sphere is a common shape for very small organisms that live in water. Seen with a standard microscope, the skeleton of this marine creature is barely discernible. But magnifying it thousands of times shows that it's not only a sphere, but that it's a complex structure made of many parts. This dome is only one of the hundreds of individual lenses in the eye of a horsefly. These tiny hemispheres have grown together in a pattern of repeating units covering nearly all of the fly's head. This remarkable compound eye lets the insect see in many directions at once. Polygons, including triangles and hexagons, are the basic structural unit in the skeleton of this tiny marine organism. These shapes are formed by intersecting struts of glasslike silica. On a far larger scale, but extraordinarily similar in structure, the skeleton of this glass sponge is several inches long. This spiral shell is only a tiny fraction of an inch across. The shells of many mollusks across the world have a similar shape. They build their protective armor with near mathematical precision, creating the ever-expanding curve of the spiral. And some, like this argonaut egg case, make only one. The tendril of this vine grows in the form of a helix. It developed these coils so it could contract like a spring as a way of getting closer to a support structure. And the movement of these vines around a pole also creates a helix. The meander is a regular repeating curve that rivers form as they flow across the landscape, and in a shape similar to flowing water, a snake too moves and meanders across the ground. When a cabbage is sliced in half, the form that's revealed looks like a tree. This is only one example of the patterns made by branching systems. The feeding tentacles of a featherduster worm make a radiating pattern on the face of a coral reef. The eight tentacles of the octopus also make a radiating pattern. Living things do not necessarily keep the same shape. They often change as they grow. These salamander eggs are spherical at first. But when cells grow and specialize, as different parts of the body develop, the shape of the embryo starts to change. The form it now begins to assume is a shape suited to its environment. It's molded by millions of years of evolutionary trial and error. The same is true of plants. Their designs have evolved as workable solutions to the problems of gathering light and air, and drawing water and nutrients from the ground. There is often a relationship between natural forms, their functions, and the materials they are made of. Environmental factors like gravity, light and the weather can play a part in the development of natural shapes. But change of season has a noticeable effect. Birds move south, plants become dormant, and as it gets cold, the water in the pond and in the air undergoes a change of state, and with it, a change of shape and structure. Water vapor changes to frost on these seed pods, the pond freezes over, and an icy frost forms on the branches of this pine tree. These small plates clinging to the pine needles, are individual ice crystals. When water freezes, sheets of crystals come together in a seemingly irregular pattern. But ice has an inner structure that begins at the molecular level. This represents a water molecule. The movement of molecules is slowed down by the cold, so if they get close enough, they will bond to each other. The magnet-like attraction between them makes them fit together so that they form six-sided shapes: hexagons. The molecules fit into the assembly like the pieces of a puzzle. These molecules are a small part of a piece of ice. The structure they make is known as a crystalline lattice, a three-dimensional grid based on the location of molecules that makes a repeating pattern throughout the ice. When water freezes, and millions of molecules combine, the hexagonal geometry is still there. Now visible to the eye, it is a reflection of its own molecular substructure. This crystal formation is a process of growth in which water becomes a solid under the influence of cold weather. The ice on the surface of this pond has the same crystalline structure as frost. The texture and clarity of ice are determined by subtle variations in factors like sunlight, air temperature, and humidity. When turbulent winter storm clouds gather, and the temperature begins to drop, the water vapor in the clouds freezes, forming small particles of ice that fall as snow. From winter blizzards comes one of the most delicate and beautiful of all natural structures, the snowflake. The snowflake is an ice crystal that forms the same way as the ice in frost or on the surface of the pond. Snowflakes come in many shapes, but if the structure of ice is always the same, how can there be such variety in snow? A snowflake is born when the moisture in a cloud forms as ice. Often around tiny particles in the air, like dust or salt. True to the hexagonal geometry of its molecular lattice, the disk grows into a hexagon. More ice forms at the six radiating points. Variation in condition of the immediate surroundings lead to variation in shape. A branching pattern like this is most common when it's around 6 degrees fahrenheit in the cloud. But even so, it is unlikely that any two snowflakes are alike, because no two snowflakes form under absolutely identical conditions. When the humidity in the cloud is low, more plate-like hexagons, like these, tend to form. And the more ornate ones form only in a narrow temperature range and with higher humidity. As different as they may be, ice and trees both create branching patterns. The patterns come from the way the environment affects the materials they are made of and the way they grow. Entirely different influences may govern the growth of ice and plants, but they often end up with similar forms, such as the radiating spikes on these seed pods, and on Queen Anne's lace. Even though natural objects are made of different materials, they can have related forms, and a single material can assume different structures under different circumstances. When water is frozen, it becomes ice. When subjected to other conditions, water makes other shapes. Running water is given no constant form by its internal structure. When it flows, it follows the contour of the stream's bottom and banks. It takes its shape from conditions around it. The water pours smoothly over the fall. The turbulence below forces water into the air. The water separates into a fine spray of many drops. The smallest ones are almost perfect spheres. We know that water forms drops, but why should drops form spheres? The surface of the water acts like a thin elastic film. When this drop hits the surface, a small crater forms. When the water rebounds to fill the crater, it surges upward, making a column. A bulb of water forms at the top of the column, with the narrow neck below it. Its momentum carries it upward, while the rest of the small column falls back and a drop breaks free. The film on the surface of the drop contracts, forcing its contents into the most compact shape that fluid can form: the sphere. The surface film that makes a sphere of a drop of water acts like the film of soap that makes a sphere of a soap bubble. This bubble is a skin of water and soap, stretched around a volume of air. The air is as formless as the water, so the film around it tightens until it has packaged the air as compactly as possible. A sphere uses the least amount of surface material to enclose a given volume. Drops so small that their own weight doesn't distort them become perfect spheres. This drop is too large for surface tension to draw it into a sphere. But because of its relative strength, the surface film can be an impenetrable barrier to very small creatures, like this Copapod. Many living things, such as fruit, like cherries and crabapples, also resemble spheres. These fruits are not formed by the same process as water drops and soap bubbles, and it is often less clear what the relationship is between their form and their function, or what advantage there is in these shapes. But there is a definite advantage in the form of these Mallard duck eggs. Their oval shape is curved, somewhat like a sphere, and their shells make strong and efficient packages for the embryo inside. This is the edge of an eggshell highly magnified. It's made of these bullet-shaped calcite crystals with rounded points at the lower ends. Eggshells are not as fragile as they seem. They are strong from the outside, and weak only from the inside. Like the stones in the arch, the individual calcite crystals are packed tightly together. The shell is only 17/1000 inch thick. When pressure is applied to the outside, the shell works like the arch in a bridge, which carries the load to each side, and like the stones in the structural arch, the greater the pressure on the crystals, the tighter they get. The shell is strong enough to support the mother duck. It can also support two dozen aunts, uncles and cousins -- more than 50 pounds of ducks. The shell can withstand pressure from the outside, but a duckling, pushing from the inside, doesn't pack the crystals together, it forces them apart, and the shell breaks. The eggshell works. It's a shape that protects its tenant, and then yields when it's time for the duckling to emerge. Architects and engineers have discovered the strength and efficiency of these rounded shapes. They have been making domes for thousands of years, and are still building variations on the basic theme illustrated by the egg: a very small surface area for a given volume; a light structure with a rigid shell. As water flows over this fall, it carries some air with it, into the stream below. The air rises to the surface as bubbles, and when they are packed tightly together, they make a froth, an integrated system of rounded polygons forming partitions. Seen in two dimensions like this, the partitions join three at a time. Here's one three-way joint. Here's another. Here's another. They enclose a six-sided figure. It's hexagonal, as are most of the bubbles on the surface of this froth. It's shaped like an ice-crystal, but it doesn't come from freezing. It comes from the physical pressure of bubbles crowding together. Single bubbles made like this start as hemispheres. When the two of them touch, they form a common wall. A third one makes a shared three-way partition. Resting on the surface of the water like this, there will never be more than three around a single joint. Each bubble keeps its original amount of air, but partitions are shared so less surface area is needed to enclose the same amount of air. Efficient systems of partitions are used to advantage by living things, too. Wasps and bees build nests with hexagonal cells. Less material means less work, less investment of energy per cell, and more cells in which to lay eggs. The network of veins in this leaf uses three-way joints, meaning relatively short distances for the fluid to travel. And this common, fresh-water algae is a web of individual cells joined three at a time. The hull of a rowing scull barely disturbs the calm surface of the water. But the turbulence caused by the oars makes another basic shape. When an oar pushes against the water, it makes a spiral whirlpool, a column of water spinning faster in the center than the outside. It's the difference in the speed of growth that shapes this ram's horn. But in this case, it grows faster on the outside of the curve and is forced into a spiral. The shell of this ordinary pond snail
grows in a spiral as does the shell of the chambered nautilus. It
belongs to a group of mollusks that have inhabited tropical oceans for
hundreds of millions of years. The chambered nautilus moves by jet
propulsion like its distant relatives, the octopus and the squid.
The shell of the nautilus is a spiral of mathematical precision.
The process of growth that generates this form is elegantly recorded in
its interior structure. It may live for 20 years, though we're not
sure how often it makes chambers. Each one is about 6% larger than
the one before it, but they are all the same shape. As the
nautilus grows, it creates chambers by secreting calcium carbonate,
which gradually accumulates. The nautilus is the mold for its own shell.
Spirals are also a common pattern of growth in plants. It's found in the way that both leaves and flowers grow. Each division in the face of this sunflower is a single, very small blossom called a floret. And they pack together in an orderly array. They create a pattern of rows spiraling out from the center. While the bud is still closed, almost microscopic florets grow out of the center one after the other. Although it appears as if the newer florets are added to the outer edge, in fact they originate in the middle. As new ones grow in, they force the older ones to the outside. The florets all grow at the same rate, and as they grow, the spiral pattern grows with them. It might seem that the florets grow along a spiral track, but each one is forced out from the center in a straight line, as the flower gets bigger. The reason that the pattern is preserved is that though the florets are of different sizes, they all grow at the same rate. If they were growing at different speeds, the pattern would be distorted. All composite flowers, whether they are sunflowers, or daisies, or their relatives, have heads that are made of several florets. Like the chambers of the nautilus, all the florets are the same shape, but of different sizes. The order of their growth makes the spiral pattern, just as the tight wrapping of a young fern, and the increasing size of the leaves on this succulent plant are ways of growth that make spirals. The oars of a roaring scull make another shape that is closely related to the two-dimensional flat spiral seen on the surface of the water. The part of the whirlpool that reaches down into the water is a helix. The vortex is a three-dimensional structure that twists like the rows of scales on this pine cone. A pea vine climbs by wrapping itself around a pole, and in the process, makes a helix. When the vine reaches out with its tendril and encounters a support, it encircles it, then modifies the winding motion to make helical coils, pulling itself closer to the pole. The uneven bonds between these pairs of molecule groups, cause the layers to rotate slightly as they stack, making the double helix of the DNA molecule, the substance that transmits genetic information in living things. Each coil is a backbone of sugar and phosphate molecules. The information-bearing nucleotides are protected within the coils. A single strand of human DNA coiled like this can be 50 Million times longer than it is wide. The continuous coiling of the helix relates it to another form commonly found in nature: the meander. A river loops across the landscape according to a predictable pattern of smooth, elliptical meanders, shapes created by the force of moving water. These curves are made by the way the river erodes its own banks. The water flows faster on the outside of the bends, slower on the inside. A cross-section through the river shows the action of the water. Where it's faster, erosion is greater. So it's deeper on the outside of the bend to the left, shallow and slower on the inside to the right, so sediment is deposited there. On the outside, erosion eats the land away. On the inside, land is built up. This makes the riverbed change course over time. Rivers seldom flow in a straight line for more than ten times their width. Instead, they automatically make patterns which approach uniform curvature. Water flowing across a car windshield will do the same thing, but for a different reason. When the speed and volume of this water flow are reduced, it begins to oscillate as the flow becomes faster on one side than the other, creating a meander. Water flowing across a beach at low tide forms many meandering patterns. And so do the linear ridges in this glacier, slowly moving below Alaska's Mt. McKinley. There is another group of growth patterns. It is in the way the branches grow from a tree. It's also in the way florets radiate from a clover blossom, and in the way networks of vessels grow in animals or in leaves. The branching system is best understood if it's seen from the beginning. When this sunflower seed senses the right combination of heat, moisture, and light, it germinates. When plants grow, they show the development of a simple branching system. First, the roots. The young plants are sensitive to the force of gravity. It guides them toward a vertical position. Their roots can find the way to water, and their leaves the direction of the sun. Sources of food and energy attract branches. Leaves develop an internal branching pattern for distributing nutrients. And groups of leaves form variations on branching patterns. Flowers make radiating patterns as they reach out to attract pollinating insects. As a plant gets bigger, it continues to do what it did as a seedling: it grows branches. A mature tree is a work of natural architecture and engineering. This tree has tens of thousands of leaves and must grow a massive armature of wood to support them. The leaves themselves have branching systems that collect the sun's energy and through photosynthesis produce food for the tree. Since the wooden structure must be strong enough to withstand the elements, trees have ways of branching that are ingenious solutions to structural problems. [Teacher: This is a black oak, and if you look up at the branches, you'll see what we call a habit, the branching pattern of the tree. Some trees branch very low to the ground, and the other ones will wait until they get up higher and branch.] Branches must support their own weight as well as their leaves. Wood is heavy, so to lessen the stress on the tree, the less used the better. This is a diagram of evenly spread leaves. There are many ways for the leaves to be joined to the trunk: an explosion pattern; a double explosion pattern; bi-lateral symmetry; branches made of forks or three-way joints. How do these four patterns work as models for some common hardwood trees like oaks or maples? In this explosion pattern, each leaf would have its own branch, and the combined length of them all would be long. A lot of wood for a tree to support, so not economical as a tree design. But if these branches are the florets of a buttonbush flower, the scheme works pretty well. It presents a dense array of tiny flowers to attract pollinating insects. For clover, it's a way of attracting attention. For the seedcase of the cucklebur, it's a way of deploying hundreds of clinging barbs. A double explosion pattern reduces the overall length of the branches. But still, a lot of heavy wood to be supported far from the trunk, especially if the limbs get overloaded with snow. But for wild parsnip, this design distributes small blossoms over a large area, possibly making them more noticeable to pollinating insects. Because of its small size, the scheme doesn't strain this plant as it would a much larger tree. A close relative, Queen Anne's lace, uses the same structure. The goat's beard flower makes an explosion pattern of seeds. Each seed has a secondary explosion pattern for a parachute. If the main branches have the same number of minor branches evenly arranged on each side, the overall amount of wood is even less: a favorable savings in material and a branching pattern used on some trees. You can see it in the profile of many evergreen trees, in the organization of their individual branches, and in the way the needles grow from them. This fern is made of rows of minor branches. Each of these is made of rows of leaves. And each of these is made of rows of veins. The smaller parts of this fern are models of the whole. In this branching pattern, each limb is made of forks, linked three-way joints. The overall length of the branches is the lowest of all four models. This means the least weight to be carried, and the shortest distance for fluid to travel from the roots to the leaves. A single limb on a maple tree is a series of three-way joints. A branching system using this pattern is common to many of the hardwood trees of North America. This tree grows in a pattern with the shortest route between the main trunk and each leaf, and it uses the least amount of wood. It's an economical structure, and withstands both gravity and the climate. Like all things in nature, there is room for variety. Both the trunks and the branching systems of trees adapt to local circumstances, and have their own individuality. The branching structure of a tree like this maple is dedicated to the support of leaves, and to the movement of fluid between them and the rest of the tree. Although wood seems solid, a microscopic view shows that it's actually made of thin partitions of cellulose. The fluid moves through these bundles of tubing. They form a substructure of polygons like the ones made by the bubbles in a froth. The walls of some of the tubing are reinforced against collapse with helixes 1/100th of a millimeter in diameter. As the stem grows, these coils can stretch without losing their strength. If a piece of oak is cut across the grain, it reveals a cross-section of the tubing in its circulatory system. As these vessels stiffen, they contribute to the support of the tree. Form and function is integrated. A single shape is both plumbing and structure. [Teacher: I'm going to give you each a
leaf, and we're going to try what we call a leaf rubbing, okay? What I
want you to do is put it underneath your paper, and make it nice and
flat, and then pick just one color crayon, one that you like the best.] The large veins in a leaf are not only for the movement of fluids, they are structural as well, helping to stiffen and spread the leaves flat to expose the surface to the sun. The process of evolution responsible for the forms of branches, leaves and wood, has also helped to determine the designs of seeds. Maple and Alanthus seeds, which are spread by the wind, have propeller-like blades. Sharp spikes keep animals out of these horse chestnuts before they ripen. And even though they are also toxic, squirrels will still collect and bury them, as they do with acorns and berries. Fruit and seeds are produced when flowers are pollinated. Flowers are the reproductive organs of plants. The individual florets in this sunflower open up. When insects come to gather pollen, they fertilize the florets with pollen from another flower. Every fertilized floret becomes a seed containing an embryonic plant. The forms that seeds take are related to various strategies for distribution. One Alanthus tree produces thousands of seeds a year. Each seed is a helix, an aerodynamic form twisted like a propeller that keeps it airborne for wide dispersal by the wind. Late in the summer, the lotus lilies in this pond produce their extravagant blossoms. After pollination by insects, each one grows a cone-shaped pod with young seeds in the middle. When the seeds ripen, they become loose in the pod. Eventually it falls into the water and floats. It drifts upside-down and as it softens, the seeds fall out one by one. Like the seeds in the individual pods themselves, the cones pack against the shores of the pond by the thousands. As they are blown back and forth, they drop seeds all over the bottom where they will wait until next year -- or sometimes for many years -- before taking root. As the pod of the milkweed dries, it shrinks. The case splits, and reveals a tight package of seeds inside. Each one is a tiny explosion pattern that makes a parachute so it will travel farther with the wind. The dispersal of some seeds depends on the warmth of spring. The seeds of the Dogbane bush absorb moisture and heat, and as the contents expand, splitting the seed case. Many plants distribute their seeds as widely as possible. This way a plant won't have to compete with its own offspring. Each of these seeds has its own parachute, and the wind does the rest. Living things are layers of patterns. A dandelion seed makes an explosion pattern. The seeds were attached to an egg-like stub. It is divided by a spiraling pattern of cells meeting three at a time, making three-way joints. In the center of each cell, a tiny stalk that broke when the seed blew away. And on the head of the stalk, a grouping of smaller cells made by the tubing that once brought nutrients to the seed. And so it goes: patterns made of other patterns, repeatedly layered, one upon the other. Behind the complexity of an organism like this plant, there are many basic shapes. Just as a plant can be seen as a composite of different forms, so can an animal. The antlers of the moose are huge branches, sometimes six feet across. The horns of an Alaskan Doll Ram are spirals. This king snake moves in a meandering pattern. And so does the Morey eel of a Caribbean coral reef. This porcupine fish inflates itself into a sphere, like a balloon. And the bony plates of the cow fish make a honeycomb of polygons. But these forms aren't always easy to perceive. A bird is a complex but highly organized system that depends on the integration of simpler forms to meet the demands of its way of life. Each of its feathers and the internal structure of its bones is based on fundamental patterns, just like its egg. These eggs are strong enough to take the weight of the mother duck. They are also made with an efficient use of material and minimize surface area reducing heat loss. While this mallard's young are in their eggs, patterns are developing that not only sustain life, but also anticipate the emerging adult form. Within days, cells specialize and coalesce into a nervous system and a spinal column. The living thing is beginning to take shape. Blood cells form, and with them the cells for veins and arteries. Together, they make a river of their own like a tree, a limb, a leaf, a branching pattern for moving the raw materials for growth. It is the simplest way for all parts of a growing embryo to be nourished. This tiny heart drives a system of distribution, and a pattern emerges. At the center, the vessels are biggest; as they are in a leaf, the flow greatest. At the extremities, like the smallest veins in a leaf, the capillaries reach every single growing cell. The heart pumps the blood that connects the source of food in the yolk with the growing embryo. The system carries blood to the interface with the porous shell where carbon dioxide is exchanged for oxygen. The yolk has all the raw material from which the embryo will construct itself. It has 28 days to grow all the systems it will need to break free and survive in the world outside. The shell breaks easily when pushed from the inside. Weak as it is, the duckling breaks out. It's an extraordinary process: the bird grew from a single spherical cell into a complex body that includes a beak, webbed feet, bones and feathers. Each of these will soon toughen into the specialized features that suit ducks so well for their environment. Ducklings are able to swim within days of hatching, but they won't have the strength to fly for several weeks. For flight puts great demands on a bird's structural integrity. 50% of the weight of a 2-1/2 pound mallard is in its flight muscles, but its skeleton weighs only 4 ounces: barely 10% of its total weight. A bird's skeleton must give maximum strength for minimum weight, or it could never fly. So its wing bones are hollow. Their walls are internally buttressed with a forest of rigid branching structures. A unique item of bird design is the feather. Hair, scales, plates and shells can be found on many animals, but only birds have feathers. A feather is a branching structure. Each branch is zippered to its neighbor by smaller branches, making feathers air resistant and self-mending: qualities essential for flight. Flight feathers are smooth, but some decorative feathers have a microscopic fringe on each branch. On this surface, much too small to see
here, there is a regular grid that reflects light of only one
wavelength. It's a sub-microscopic structure that creates color
like this brilliant iridescent green. These feathers grow on the
heads and necks of male mallards. The duck's breast feathers and
the down feathers beneath them make a warm and waterproof hull.
Down is an excellent insulator because its branches are finer and
farther apart than those of other feathers. These spaces make room
for warm air next to the duck's body. In its simplicity, the
feather has great versatility: a structure for warmth, a structure
for color, and a structure for flight. The entire bird represents
efficiency of form. It is streamlined to move smoothly through the
air. With powerful muscles mounted on the lightest possible skeleton, it
is the swiftest of animals. All aspects of bird design -- its
eggs, its skeleton, its feathers -- combine in a whole that is greater
than the sum of its parts. Form comes from growth or from the way forces affect materials. Shapes are influenced by factors ranging in scale from the molecular to the environmental. The wind, the weather, and even the force of gravity are a few of the conditions imposed on shapes of all sizes. But these constraints are not necessarily limitations -- they are opportunities for new variations on old themes. Their beauty is the outward appearance of orderly structure. Basic shapes are only the beginning of the story. They lead to an understanding of structure in all living things, because they are often the building blocks of more complex organisms. The need to conserve energy creates order. Disarray is wasteful of the materials and energy with which life confronts the environment. It is not always apparent why things are shaped the way they are, but nature is constantly creating similar forms, over and over again. Within the diversity of nature there is order, and as the home of life, earth is the planet of shapes. Produced and Developed in Film Editor Assistant to the Producer Field Producer Developmental Research Post Production Administration Photographed by Special Consultants Narrated by Sound Editors Camera/Sound Assistants Seth Goodwin Animation Computer Graphics Lab Vizwiz Inc. Animation Camera Original Music Music Consultant Sound Mixer Special Thanks To: Agassiz Community School Dr. O. Roger Anderson Arnold Arboretum Boston’s Museum of Science Paul J. Boyle Cambridge Boat Club Marc Chalufour Mary Coombs Friends of Belle Isle Marsh Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge Rita Guastella Half and Half Farm Harvard University Hillside Poultry Farm etcetera |