Nautilus Shell
By Emma Perry
The object that I think is worthy to be in our Cabinet of Wonders is the single nautilus shell located in the Wadsworth Museum Cabinet. It is next to the flashier nautilus shell sculpture of a man riding a snail, but I was more drawn to the natural, lonely nautilus shell. Nautilus shells have historical significance for me personally, as my mom thought they were amazing when I was younger and constantly had paintings of them around the house, and to this day wears multiple pairs of nautilus shell earrings. There are many different aspects of the nautilus shell that are considered unique and special, but the thing that my mom always loved the most was the way they grew. It’s described perfectly in an article by Ask Nature:“When it gets too large for its existing space, the...nautilus adds on to the open end of its shell, expanding the diameter in a spiral configuration. And, in a remarkable and timely example of repurposing, it does not abandon its old space. Rather, it closes it off with a wall, creating a chamber that it uses to help stay buoyant as its body gets heavier.”
In its lifetime, a nautilus shell could grow to have 30 chambers. My mom always thought that these shells were a beautiful example of perseverance in nature. She loved that they grew and “kept themselves afloat” just like humans have to do when life gets difficult. I used to get a little sick of hearing about them, just like any kid who thinks they’re too cool for their parents, but now that I’m older, I’m loath to admit that the love and near obsession has been passed on to me.
The more you look into Nautilus shells, the more interesting their story gets. I am interested in mathematics but not in the way that makes me enjoy algebra or calculus. I like the type of mathematics that explains nature and space and human anatomy. As a result of this interest, when I was younger, I went on a binge reading expedition to become an expert of sorts on the Fibonacci Sequence. This sequence, developed by Leonardo of Pisa, helps to explain how “logarithmic spirals” appear in Nature. The sequence goes something like this:
It begins at zero, and continues on: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987.
Each number is the sum of the two previous numbers, and it leads to the logarithmic spiral. This image illustrates how perfectly the nautilus shell exemplifies this.
This sequence also helps explain the growth of sunflower seeds and galaxies.
I love how the human race experiences such wonderment towards nature and how desperately and precisely they try to explain it. The way that the sequence works is that the squares that make up the space of the rectangle and fit perfectly together in the spiral. This works because The squares fit together perfectly because the ratio between the numbers in the Fibonacci sequence is very close to the golden ratio [1], which is approximately 1.618034. The larger the numbers in the Fibonacci sequence, the closer the ratio is to the golden ratio. This helps explain why galaxies work together even though they’re a miraculous mix of random elements in the universe.
Even though that might sound like a bunch of math mumbo-jumbo, it’s such a comfort to me in a weird, roundabout way. Not only do these nautilus shells remind me of my childhood, growing up in my seaside town, but it also settles the innermost part of me that feels untethered. In no way does the Fibonacci Sequence provide a meaning to life, but it’s a comfort to know that our galaxy was formed in such a precise manner, and that the elements that created humans exploded and reformed in such a way that we all ended up here. I don’t subscribe to any specific religion, and I purposely don’t think about what happens to us after death, but something about this sequence and how it appears in nature makes me feel like human life isn’t an accident, and that there’s something to contribute to this bizarre planet.