Growth factor — where it appears
Named by 27 essays across one field — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Growth as a rule
A logarithmic spiral is not a shape somebody admired. It is what a thing grows into when it adds material at its opening without changing shape, its one parameter is how much it grows per turn, and that parameter can be recovered from any drawn curve to the last digit.
Raup's three numbers
Nearly every coiled shell that has ever existed is a point in a three-dimensional space — how fast the whorl expands, how far the opening sits from the axis, how far it travels along it. That is a remarkable compression, and the most useful line in the space is the one where the whorls come apart.
The nautilus question
A golden spiral grows by 6.854 per turn. Measured nautilus sections give about 3.2. That is a factor of 2.14 — not a rounding error, not an artefact of where the centre is assumed to be, and not close.
The line was already exact
The boundary between shells whose whorls run into one another and shells whose whorls run free is quoted everywhere as D = 1/W, and a survey designed to measure how far off it sits found that it is not off at all. Located by bisecting the drawn circles at 481 expansions, the residual is 2.2 × 10⁻¹⁶ — the last bit a double holds, over the whole range.
What a spire buys
Translation along the coiling axis enters the contact boundary as its square, so a shell that has only just begun to walk along its axis has not moved the boundary at all. It is also strictly one-way, and it has a threshold above which no distance from the axis whatever puts the whorls in touch.
What the centre costs
The fit that recovers a shell's growth factor needs a centre, and no shell has one marked. Displacing it by a quarter of the innermost whorl's radius moves the answer by 4.56 per cent at two turns, which is about five times the figure published earlier.
How far a centre must move
Four hundred and eighty-two thousand assumed centres, at nineteen spans and a hundred and eighty directions each, asked whether a spiral drawn at 3.2 can be made to read as the golden 6.854. It can, at every span up to 1.15 turns and at none from 1.2 upward, and every centre that manages it is refused twice over.
The residual is not the test
The fit that recovers a growth factor also hands back a residual, and that residual has been read as what separates a genuine logarithmic spiral from something that merely looks like one. Pointed at twelve curves it fits a circle exactly, accepts an Archimedean spiral, and refuses a golden one that is right to three decimal places.
A measurement in steps
Walking a pair of dividers along a shell's spiral is the oldest way to measure it and the best one available once there are enough steps, because it puts the points where the curve is. Under a count that follows exactly from the geometry it inflates the answer instead, and it is the only route measured here that pushes a nautilus towards a golden spiral.
One angle decides contact
Seen from the apex of its coiling axis, every whorl of Raup's shell subtends the same half-angle, and two whorls touch exactly when the sine of that angle exceeds (W − 1)/(W + 1) — with no disagreement against the drawn discs at 400,000 random shells. Two of the three numbers enter only through the angle and the third only through the threshold, which decides which picture of a shell can answer the question: a spire's outline carries no W, a plan carries no T, and an axial section carries all three.
One number for a shell that changes
An animal is under no obligation to grow at one rate from hatching to maturity, and the fit that recovers a shell's growth factor returns one number whatever it is given. Handed a shell whose expansion rises steadily from 2.8 to 3.6 a turn, it returns 3.17490 — the geometric mean of the two ends, exactly — with a residual it accepts. A change of sixty-four per cent over three and a half turns passes as one logarithmic spiral, and at the aperture, where contact is decided, the one number and the last whorl give opposite verdicts.
A centre that invents a life history
The collection's advice for a shell that might have changed how it grew was to fit it twice, over different arcs, and compare. On a spiral that does not change at all, a centre displaced by a quarter of the innermost radius splits the two halves by 4.09 per cent — the split a genuine 8.35 per cent change from apex to aperture produces — in either sign, depending only on which way the centre is wrong. Point noise of the same size splits them by less than half as much, and averages away where the centre does not. The floor under the test is the centre, not the noise.
Three points on a diameter
Ammonoid workers measure a shell's expansion without a centre: two diameters half a volution apart, squared. On a logarithmic spiral that is exact, and the centre is needed only to aim the line. A quarter-radius aim error costs the fit 1.341 per cent and the diameters 0.0045, because the aim error enters as its square. Reading noise is another matter: at a thousandth of the outer radius the fit's four hundred points beat the calipers' three readings at every expansion up to the nautilus's, and which instrument is better depends on which error the section actually has.
What the septa count
A nautilus's chambers are each a scaled copy of the last, and an earlier essay gave their ratio as about 1.3 — what a growth factor of 3.2 gives over a third of a turn. It does not: a third of a turn at 3.2 is 1.474 in length. A ratio of 1.3 is 4.43 septa a whorl as a length, 8.87 as an area and 13.30 as a volume, so the dimension decides the count threefold. And the count is an exponent in any reading of the growth factor taken from one chamber to the next: one septum miscounted at thirteen moves it by 9.14 per cent. A chamber and the one a whorl out give W³ with no count at all.
A spiral with no clock
The growth factor a shell's curve gives up is a rate per turn of the shell's own coiling, and a turn is not a unit of time. Four clocks — the aperture advancing at a constant angular rate, adding a constant length, a constant area, a constant volume — trace the identical curve: every mark one of them leaves lies on r = W to the power theta over two pi exactly, so a fit through any of them returns the same factor. What differs is where the marks are, and the difference is enormous: at 3.2 per turn the outermost of three whorls holds 33.4, 71.0, 90.3 and 97.0 per cent of the record. It also breaks the instrument. The routine that recovers a growth factor unwraps the angle by assuming successive points advance less than half a turn, and five of the twenty readings here leave gaps past that — returning 3.33 where the curve was built at 3.20, and 8.19 where it was built at 6.85.
What the growth lines carry
A shell's curve says nothing about how fast the animal grew, and its growth lines say all of it. Under a law that holds the pth power of the radius constant per unit time, the time spent crossing one whorl is proportional to the change in that power across it — so the lines in successive whorls stand in the ratio of the growth factor raised to p, and each whorl holds the count the closed form predicts to within the one line rounding can move. Dividing two counts and taking the logarithm against a growth factor the curve already gives returns p: 17 of 20 readings name their own law, the furthest 0.012 from a whole number. The other three are not wrong, they are uncountable — at 4.5 per turn under a volume clock the inner whorl of the pair holds one line.
A shell that changed its law
An animal that grew as a juvenile under one deposition law and as an adult under another leaves a sequence of whorl ratios rather than one, and the sequence says where the change happened. The ratio across the change is a closed form that is neither law's — 6.72 between a length clock and an area clock at 3.2 per turn, exactly the average of 3.2 and 10.24 — and it is monotone in where inside its whorl the change sits, so it inverts. On a seven-whorl shell of 18,466 lines a change at 3.5 whorls comes back at 3.5001, in a band 0.027 whorls wide that holds the true position. The reading refuses a change in the outer three whorls or the inner three, because a plateau it will trust is two agreeing ratios and two ratios need three untouched whorls.
A law that never stopped changing
A shell whose deposition law moved evenly from one end to the other gives a sequence of whorl ratios that is a straight ramp rather than a plateau, a crossing and a plateau, and the two are separated by more than the counts' own rounding on every shell holding three countable ratios. Each ratio on the ramp reads the law at the boundary it straddles — 0.3486, 0.6865, 1.0320, 1.3755, 1.7180 against 0.3333, 0.6667, 1.0000, 1.3333, 1.6667 — so the reading is local where a fit to the curve is global, and a fit handed the same shell returns the geometric mean of its ends with no warning. The reading that locates a single change refuses a drifting shell at every size, naming the number of ratios that agree with neither end.
A count that is not exact
Reading a deposition law off two whorls' growth-line counts divides one by the other, so a miscount that is the same in both divides out: four lines in five missed at random moves the answer by five thousandths and costs only scatter. What biases it is a miscount that varies along the shell, and there is one that always does. The arc between successive lines rises or falls with the radius according to whether the law is shallower or steeper than a length clock, so a section's resolution limit eats the inner whorls of a shallow shell and the outer whorls of a steep one, and eats evenly at exactly p = 1. Where the limit binds, a whorl's surviving count is its arc over the limit, and whorl arcs stand in the ratio W — so a shell too worn to read reports a length clock whatever law it had.
A section seen from the wrong angle
A photograph of a shell section taken off the normal is the coiling plane compressed along one direction by the cosine of the angle, and nothing in the picture says so. The fit that recovers a growth factor is moved by it — half a turn seen twenty degrees off gives a band of answers 23.7 per cent wide as the span's starting point moves round the shell, centred almost exactly on the right answer, so it is a spread and not a bias. The caliper measure is exactly immune at every tilt and every aim, because a projection scales all three points on a line through the centre by the same factor. And the fit's residual names the tilt to three decimal places, which makes this the rare error a section reports about itself.
The error budget for a nautilus
Every way a growth factor read off a shell section can be wrong has been priced here, one essay at a time. Added up they come to 332.6 per cent in the worst case and 279.6 in quadrature, against a golden-spiral claim that is 114.2 per cent away — so the budget does not refuse the claim at all. One entry decides it: the dividers, at 278.2 per cent on their own, and the dividers are the historical method and the only route measured that pushes a nautilus towards a golden spiral. Set them aside and the budget falls to 54.4 per cent and the claim is refused twice over. What the same budget cannot settle is anything smaller than half: 3.2 against 3.4 is inside it, and stays inside it until six of the seven sources are controlled.
What the axis distance costs
Raup's contact boundary is a relation between two numbers and only one of them has ever been priced here. The second was expected to be the cheaper — a length against another length. It is not: an assumed centre costs it 79.3 per cent where the same centre costs the expansion 6.88, because a ratio of two distances is first order in the centre and a fitted rate is second. But a tilted camera costs it nothing at all, exactly, and averaging the reading round one whorl is free and worth a factor of 4.91. The two numbers fail at opposite ends, and they cross at 1.12 turns of arc.
A floor no better fit can lift
The band of shells nobody can place was built from one of the two numbers the contact boundary relates, and the other has now been priced. Carried together they widen the band by a third and take 48.2 per cent of the morphospace box to 59.7. The number that matters is further down: with the whorl expansion measured perfectly, 12.6 per cent of the box is still undecidable, and at an expansion controlled to a hundredth 94 per cent of what remains belongs to the second number. And the two errors are not independent — they come out of one guessed centre, which traces a curve across the boundary rather than a rectangle around it.
Whether a section can see its own limit
A shell section that cannot resolve growth lines closer than some distance reads every deposition law as nearer a length clock, and says nothing about it. Given an animal whose days vary, the section can often catch itself: a limit changes how irregular successive spacings are in the whorls where it binds, and one animal is not steady in one whorl and irregular in the next. On an angular clock a test comparing whorls flags every limited section, before the reading has even moved. On a volume clock it can miss a limit that has pulled the reading from 3 to 1.87 — when the animal's own days vary by a tenth, which is exactly as irregular as the limit leaves the whorl it binds.
Three entries and one span
The error budget for a nautilus added seven ways a growth factor read off a section can be wrong, and asked whether they were independent. Three of them are not: the displaced centre, the span of arc and the oblique view are one error priced three ways, at two turns, over a turn and more, and at half a turn — 32.2 per cent together. A section has one span. Read together at one span, a quarter-radius centre and a ten-degree tilt come to 7.1 per cent at two turns and 188 at half a turn, and in their worst orientation they always add to more than their sum. So the budget refuses the golden spiral from three quarters of a turn of shell upward, and below that it cannot.
The dividers belong to the opening
The nautilus error budget's largest entry, dividers walked along the shell at 278 per cent, was set aside as the historical method. Priced at one span it turns out not to belong to the span at all. A person sets a pair of dividers to an opening and walks until the curve runs out, so the step count grows with the arc exactly as fast as the floor on it does: opened to less than the square root of the growth factor less one — 0.789 of the innermost radius for a nautilus — they read the factor exactly over every span from half a turn to six, and opened wider they read it too high over every span, least over the longest. The 278 per cent was nine steps along five turns, an opening of 37 innermost radii. With the dividers opened to anything up to five radii, the whole budget refuses the golden spiral from three quarters of a turn upward.
The rim sets the opening
A pair of dividers reads a nautilus's growth factor exactly when its opening is under 0.789 of the radius of the whorl it starts on — a quarter of a millimetre at the true centre of a real shell, which no hand can set. A real section starts where its whorls can be read, and a person sets the dividers against the shell in front of them. Measured that way, the rule becomes a span: dividers opened to a share f of the outer radius are exact over the last log((√k − 1)/f)/log k turns of any shell — 3.76 turns at a hundredth, 3.16 at a fiftieth — and the change-over falls exactly there at every opening tried. Held against the rim, their error grows with the span rather than falling, so a section with its centre broken away is read more exactly, not less; and the whole budget still refuses the golden spiral at every span from three quarters of a turn to six for any opening up to a fiftieth.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Honest limitsClaim testingWhorlLogarithmic spiralMeasurement errorModel scopeNegative resultError propagationResidualResolutionClosed formGrowth clock