From
the Introduction:
“In recent years as
I have walked daily to and from work, I have started to train myself
to observe the sky, the birds, butterflies, trees and the flowers,
something I had not done previously in a conscious way (although
I did watch out for fast-moving cars and unfriendly dogs). Despite
living in suburbia, I find that there are many wonderful things
to see: clouds exhibiting wave-like patterns, splotches of colored
light some 22 degrees away from the sun (sundogs, or parhelia),
wave after wave of Canadian geese in “vee” formation, the way waves
(and a following region of calm water) spread out on the surface
of a puddle as a raindrop spoils its smooth surface, the occasional
rainbow arc, even the iridescence on the neck of those rather annoying
birds, pigeons, and many, many more nature-given delights. And
so far I have not been late for my first class of the morning!
The idea for this
book was driven by a fascination on my part for the way in which
so many of the beautiful phenomena observable in the natural realm
around us can be described in mathematical terms (at least in principle).
What are some of these phenomena? Some have been already mentioned
in the preface, but for a more complete list we might consider
rainbows, glories, halos (all atmospheric occurrences), waves in
air, earth, oceans, rivers, lakes and puddles (made by wind, ship
or duck), cloud formations (e.g. billows, lee waves), tree and
leaf branching patterns (including phyllotaxis), the proportions
of trees, the wind in the trees, mud-crack patterns, butterfly
markings, leopard spots and tiger stripes; in short, if you can
see it outside, and a human didn't make it, it's probably described
in here! That, of course, is an exaggeration, but this book does
attempt to answer on varied levels the fundamental question: what
kind of scientific and mathematical principles undergird these
patterns or regularities that I claim are so ubiquitous in nature?
Two of the most fundamental
and widespread phenomena that occur in the realm of nature are
(i) the scattering of light and (ii) wave motion. Both may occur
almost anywhere given the right circumstances, and both may be
described in mathematical terms at varying levels of complexity.
It is for example the scattering of light both by air molecules
and the much larger dust particles (or more generally, aerosols)
that combine to give the amazing range of color, hues and tints
at sunrise or sunset that give us so much pleasure. The deep blue
sky above and the red glow near the sun at the end of the day are
due to molecular scattering of light, though dust or volcanic ash
can render the latter quite spectacular at times.
The rainbow is formed
by sunlight scattered in preferential directions by near-spherical
raindrops: scattering in this context means refraction and reflection
(although there many other fascinating features of light scattering
that will not be discussed in great detail here). Using a simple
mathematical description of this phenomenon, Descartes in 1637
was able to “hang the rainbow in the sky” (i.e. deduce its location
relative to the sun and observer), but to “paint” the rainbow required
the genius of Newton some thirty years later. The bright primary
and fainter secondary bows are well described by elementary mathematics,
but the more subtle observable features require some of the most
sophisticated techniques of mathematical physics to explain them.
A related phenomenon is that of the “glory”, which is a set of
colored, concentric rainbow-like rings surrounding, for example,
the shadow of an airplane on a cloud below. This, like the rainbow,
is also a “backscatter” effect, and intriguingly, both the rainbow
and the glory have their counterparts in atomic and nuclear physics;
mathematics is a unifying feature between these two widely-differing
contexts. The beautiful (and commonly circular) arcs known as halos,
no doubt seen best in arctic climes, are formed by the refraction
of sunlight through ice crystals of various shapes in the upper
atmosphere. Sundogs, those colored splashes of light, often seen
on both sides of the sun when high cirrus clouds are present, are
similarly formed.
Like the scattering
of light, wave motion is ubiquitous, though we cannot always see
it directly. It is manifested in the atmosphere, for example, by
billow clouds and lee-wave clouds downwind from a hill or mountain.
Waves on the surface of puddles, ponds, lakes or oceans are governed
by mathematical relationships between their speed, wavelength and
the depth of the water. The wakes produced by ships or ducks generate
strikingly similar patterns relative to their size; again this
correspondence is described by mathematical expressions of the
physical laws that govern the motion. The situation is even more
complex in the atmosphere: the “compressible” nature of a gas renders
other types of wave motion possible. Sand dunes are another complex
and beautiful example of waves. They can occur on a scale of centimeters
to kilometers, and like surface waves on bodies of water, it is
only the waveform that actually moves; the body of sand is stationary
(except at the surface.
In the plant world,
the arrangement of leaves around a stem, or seeds in a sunflower
or daisy face show, in the words of one mathematician (H.S.M. Coxeter) “a
fascinatingly prevalent tendency” to form recurring numerical patterns,
studied since medieval times. Indeed, these patterns are intimately
linked with the “golden number”
, so beloved of Greek mathematicians long ago. The spiral arrangement of seeds
in the daisy head is found to be present in the sweeping curve of the chambered
nautilus shell, or its helical counterpart, the cerithium fasciatum (a
thin pointy shell). The curl of a drying fern and the rolled-up tail of a chameleon
all exhibit types of spiral arc.
In the animal and
insect kingdoms, coat patterns (e.g. on leopards, cheetahs, tigers
and giraffes) and wing markings (e.g. on butterflies and moths)
can be studied using mathematics, specifically by means of the
properties and solutions of so-called reaction-diffusion equations,
(and also other types of mathematical model). The reaction-diffusion
equations describe the interactions between chemicals (“activators” and “inhibitors”)
that, depending on conditions may produce spots, stripes or more “splodgy” patterns.
There are fascinating mathematical problems involved in this subject
area, and also links with topics such as patterns on fish (e.g.
angel fish) and on seashells. In view of earlier comments, seashells
combine both the effects of geometry and pattern formation mechanisms,
and mathematical models can reproduce the essential features observed
in many seashells.
Cracks
also, whether formed in drying mud, tree bark, or rapidly-cooling
rock have their
own distinctive mathematical patterns; frequently they are hexagonal
in nature. River meanders, far from being ``accidents'' of nature,
define a form in which the river does the least work in turning
(according to one class of models), which then defines the most
probable form a river can take...no river, regardless of size,
runs straight for more than ten times its average width.
Many other authors
have written about these patterns in nature. Ian Stewart has noted
in his popular book “Nature's Numbers” that “We live in a universe
of patterns...No two snowflakes appear to be the same, but all
\ possess six-fold symmetry...” Furthermore, he states that “there
is a formal system of thought for recognizing, classifying and
exploiting patterns...It is called mathematics. Mathematics helps
us to organize and systemize our ideas about patterns; in so doing,
not only can we admire and enjoy these patterns, but also we can
use them to infer some of the underlying principles that govern
the world of nature...There is much beauty in nature's clues, and
we can all recognize it without any mathematical training. There
is beauty too in the mathematical stories that ...deduce the underlying
rules and regularities, but it is a different kind of beauty, applying
to ideas rather than things. Mathematics is to nature as Sherlock
Holmes is to evidence.”
We may go further
by asking questions like those posed by Peter S. Stevens in his
lovely book ``Patterns in Nature''. He asks “Why does nature appear
to use only a few fundamental forms in so many different contexts?
Why does the branching of trees resemble that of arteries and rivers?
Why do crystal grains look like soap bubbles and the plates of
a tortoise shell? Why do some fronds and fern tips look like spiral
galaxies and hurricanes? Why do meandering rivers and meandering
snakes look like the loop patterns in cables? Why do cracks in
mud and markings on a giraffe arrange themselves like films in
a froth of bubbles?'' and in part concludes that ``among nature's
darlings are spirals, meanders, branchings, hexagons, and 137.5
degree angles...Nature's productions are shoestring operations,
encumbered by the constraints of three-dimensional space, the necessary
relations among the size of things, and an eccentric sense of frugality.”
In the book “By Nature's
Design”Pat Murphy expresses similar sentiments, writing “Nature,
in its elegance and economy, often repeats certain forms and patterns...like
the similarity between the spiral pattern in the heart of a daisy
and the spiral of a seashell, or the resemblance between the branching
pattern of a river and the branching pattern of a tree...ripples
that flowing water leaves in the mud...the tracings of veins in
an autumn leaf...the intricate cracking of tree bark...the colorful
splashings of lichen on a boulder...The first step to understanding
-- and one of the most difficult -- is to see clearly. Nature modifies
and adapts these basic patterns as needed, shaping them to the
demands of a dynamic environment. But underlying all the modifications
and adaptations is a hidden unity. Nature invariably seeks to accomplish
the most with the least -- the tightest fit, the shortest path,
the least energy expended. Once you begin to see these basic patterns,
don't be surprised if your view of the natural world undergoes
a subtle shift...”
Another fundamental
(and philosophical) question has been asked by many-- How can it
be that mathematics, a product of human thought independent of
experience, is so admirably adapted to the objects of reality?
This fascinating question I do not address here; let it suffice
to note that hundreds of years ago, Galileo Galilei stated that “[The
Universe] cannot be read until we have learnt the language and
become familiar with the characters in which it is written. It
is written in mathematical language.” Mathematics is certainly
the language of science, but it is far, far more than a mere tool,
however valuable, for it is of course both a subject and a language
in its own right. But lest any of us should baulk at the apparent
need for speaking a modicum of that language in order to more fully
appreciate this book, the following reassuring statement from Albert
Einstein, when writing to a young admirer at junior high school,
should be an encouragement. He wrote “Do not worry about your difficulties
in mathematics. I can assure you that mine are still greater.” Obviously
anyone, even scientists of great genius, can have difficulties
in mathematics (one might add that it's all a matter of relativity
in this regard).
Obviously a significant
component of this book is the application of elementary mathematics
to the natural world around us. As I have tried to show already,
there are many mathematical patterns in the natural world which
are accessible to us if we keep our eyes and ears open; indeed,
the act of ``asking questions of nature'' can lead to many fascinating
``thought trails'', even if we don't always come up with the correct
answers. First though, let me remind you (unnecessarily, I am sure)
that no one has all the answers to such questions. This is true
for me at all times of course (and not just as a parent and a professor),
but especially so in a subject as all-encompassing as ‘mathematics
in nature’, because there will always be “displays” or phenomena
in nature that any given individual will be unable to explain to
the satisfaction of everyone, for the simple reasons that none
of us is ever in possession of all the relevant facts, physical
intuition, mathematical techniques or other requirements to do
justice to the observed event. However, this does not mean that
we cannot appreciate the broad principles that are exemplified
in a rainbow, lenticular cloud, river meander, mud crack or animal
pattern, etc. Most certainly we can.
It is these broad
principles -- undergirded by mathematics, much of it quite elementary
-- that I want us to perceive in a book of this admittedly rather
free-ranging nature. My desire is that by asking mathematical questions
of the phenomena, we will gain (i) some understanding of the symbiosis
that exists between the basic scientific principles involved and
their mathematical description, and (ii) a deeper appreciation
for the phenomenon itself, its beauty (obviously rather subjective)
and its relationship to other events in the natural world around
us. I have always found, for example, that my appreciation for
a rainbow is greatly enhanced by my understanding of the mathematics
and physics that undergird it.”
Finally, a gentle plea of mine to the reader is as follows: be observant --
there are many optical and fluid dynamical phenomena (particularly the latter)
taking place in the everyday world around you -- in the sky, in clouds, rivers,
lakes, oceans, puddles, faucets, sinks, coffee cups and bathtubs. I hope that
as a result of reading this book you will be better able to understand such
phenomena, both mathematically and physically...it is a fascinating interdisciplinary
area of applied mathematics, which richly rewards those who invest some time
and effort to study it.”
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