Raup's three numbers
David Raup published a model in 1966 that generates coiled shells from three numbers.
W — how much the whorl expands in one turn. D — how far the generating opening sits from the coiling axis. T — how far it travels along the axis per turn.
Gastropods, ammonites, bivalves, brachiopods, nautiloids: essentially every coiled shell in the fossil record and every one alive is a point in that three-dimensional space.
What the compression means
Three numbers is very few, and the immediate question is whether the model is doing work or whether it is flexible enough to fit anything.
It is not flexible. The model has no freedom to bend a whorl, thicken a wall, or adjust a profile locally. Given W, D and T the shape is fixed, and a shell that does not lie in the space cannot be produced by adjusting the parameters — it is simply outside the model.
So the fact that real shells lie in it is a genuine constraint being satisfied, and it says something specific: shells grow by accretion at an aperture, with the aperture scaled, rotated and translated at fixed rates. That is a claim about the growth process, and the model’s success is evidence for it.
The most useful line in the space
A whorl at angle θ occupies a radial interval, and the next turn’s inner edge clears this turn’s outer edge exactly when W·D ≥ 1. One product, one line, and it separates two shapes of shell that anyone can tell apart.
Above the line the whorls are free of each other — an evolute shell, like a planispiral ammonite or a ram’s horn, where each turn is visible and separate. Below it the whorls are in contact, each wrapping over the one before — an involute shell, which is what most gastropods are.
The label that was wrong
The first version of this called the region below the line impossible, and drew it in the colour reserved for failed claims.
That is simply false. Whorls in contact are not a contradiction — they are the ordinary condition of most snails, where each whorl wraps over its predecessor and the shell is a compact spiral rather than an open coil. Nothing about it is geometrically inconsistent.
The error was a specific and instructive kind: taking a boundary that the geometry genuinely computes and attaching to it a meaning the geometry does not supply. The line is real; “impossible” was an interpretation, and it was wrong.
What the model cannot say
Raup’s actual finding, the one the model is remembered for, is not in the geometry at all.
He plotted where real shells fall in the space and found that large regions of it are empty. Not geometrically excluded — perfectly constructible, and unoccupied. Some of the emptiness is functional, some is developmental, and some may be historical accident.
That is an empirical result obtained by measuring shells, and this site does not have it. Drawing the boundary is geometry and can be computed; drawing the occupancy is a census and cannot. The figures here show where the geometry changes and stop, and saying so is the difference between reporting Raup’s model and claiming his result.
The same distinction applies throughout: the packing measurements compute what a criterion says and cannot say what a plant does, and the dynamical model computes what a rule produces and cannot say what a meristem uses.
The third parameter
T is what turns a flat coil into a tower.
At T = 0 the whorls stay in one plane and the shell is planispiral — an ammonite, a nautilus, a ram’s horn. Increase T and each whorl steps along the axis, producing the conical spire of an ordinary garden snail or a whelk. Very large T gives a shape like an ice-cream cone with a thread wrapped round it.
The reason the figures here mostly show T = 0 is that a section through a planispiral shell is a plane curve, and a plane curve can be drawn honestly on a page. A high-T shell needs a projection, which introduces choices — and this fleet has a whole site about the choices a projection introduces.