Car Headlamps
Directional Drills
Pet Grooming Combs
Stained Glass Restoration

Headlights aren't just functional.

They're often the first design feature that catches the eye of a potential buyer.

Unlike the metal and glass versions of the past, today's headlights are made of durable plastics that can be creatively molded into a multitude of shapes.

In addition to the main beam, this pickup truck headlight has an integrated amber turn signal and daytime running light.

Most of the headlight's components are made of injection-molded plastic.

The machine melts plastic pellets into a gooey liquid, then shoots it into a mold for the specific part.

The headlight lenses are made of clear polycarbonate, a strong plastic that's resistant to extreme heat and cold.

The molding process stresses the plastic.

To relieve that stress, they put the lens into an annealing oven for 20 minutes.

When the lens comes out, they wipe it down with an anti-static cloth and inspect the surface meticulously.

Next, a robot sprays the lens with a protective coating.

This will prevent scratches, chips, or yellowing from exposure to ultraviolet rays.

They run the lens through a tunnel oven to cure it.

This component is the reflector for the headlight's main beam.

It's made of fiberglass-reinforced polyester.

They sand away any excess material, then hand wash the part with soap and water to remove any polyester residue left by the sanding.

Then, they put the reflector into a machine similar to a dishwasher.

A robot sprays on a coat of primer.

It goes on clear, but turns yellow after it cures in an oven.

Now comes the process that makes the reflector reflective.

Inside an aluminizing chamber, a fixture rotates the reflector on its own axis as well as around copper electrodes at the center of the machine.

An electrical charge to the copper electrodes generates heat, which vaporizes an aluminum wire that's wrapped around a spiral tungsten filament.

The aluminum becomes a mist that deposits evenly across the surface of the reflector.

Now they assemble the headlight, beginning with the housing.

It's made of injected-molded polypropylene.

After installing the reflector for the daytime running light, they attach the main beam reflector.

They include pivots and adjusting screws so that the beam level can be customized.

They screw in the reflector for the turn signal.

It's made of aluminized plastic.

Then, a robot applies a sealant which prevents water, dust, and insects from penetrating the housing.

They place the assembly in a lens binding machine.

Then, they insert the main beam lens, which has already been joined to the turn signal and daytime running lights.

The top of the binding machine descends, securing these assemblies to each other with screws.

Next, they screw in a halogen bulb for the main beam reflector.

The bulb has two filaments for a high and low beam.

Then, they add halogen bulbs for the turn signal and daytime running lights.

The last step is to level the main beam reflector.

This leveling machine tells them which adjustable screws to turn to tilt the reflector into the correct position.

This is the manufacturer's default setting.

Auto makers can change this before installing the headlights in their vehicles.

This model hooks up to wiring coming from the pickup truck.

Some headlights have built-in wiring that connects to the vehicle.

It's easy to change a burnt out bulb in both designs.

You simply lift the hood of the vehicle to access the bulb from the rear of the headlight housing.

When work crews need to lay pipes or cables, they use a directional drill to bore a horizontal hole underground.

It enters the ground at an angle, drills underneath the surface horizontally, then exits at an angle on the other end.

A directional drill enters the ground at an 18 degree angle.

Once it reaches the desired depth, it drills horizontally.

The machine can attach several onboard drill rods for increased drilling distance.

Most of the machine's parts are made of steel, cut to the required shape by a computer-guided laser.

Workers use a press brake to bend certain parts.

This is part of the drill's undercarriage, the frame on which everything else sits.

After they bend this part, they weld it to other parts to build the engine mount.

They weld the engine mount to the rest of the undercarriage.

Once the undercarriage is complete, they clean the steel with a chemical to maximize the adhesion of the industrial-grade primer and paint.

Once the paint dries, they install a rubber track on each side.

Tires leave ruts in the ground, so tracks work better.

The track loops around a rail and sprocket at the back.

Workers mount the sprocket on a hydraulically-powered motor, then align the sprocket teeth with the track.

When the motor runs, the sprocket rotates, driving the track.

They apply thread-locking fluid to the bolts that secure the sprocket to the motor.

This ensures the sprocket won't loosen.

Then, they install a track tensioning spring and tighten it with a pneumatic wrench.

Next, the steel hydraulic tank.

It holds the hydraulic oil for the machine's 23 different hydraulic functions.

Now the water pump.

It lubricates the drill rod with water to help it move through the ground.

It also cleans the machine after each drilling job.

They install the pivot mechanism that opens and closes the engine hood.

Now that the hydraulic tank, water pump, and hood pivot are in place, they begin installing the machine's diesel engine.

It's similar to a tractor engine.

They connect its wiring to the operator console and several other components on the machine.

The operator console consists of the driver seat, dashboard lcd display, and joystick controls.

Next, they join the rack containing all the drilling components to the undercarriage.

They install two plastic tanks-- white for water, black for fuel.

Then, the onboard computer that runs the engine and drilling components.

They also install control valves for the hydraulic lines.

They mount the rod box, which holds 40 drill rods, each measuring 2 inches in diameter by 10 feet in length.

Larger models have longer and wider drill rods.

They connect the ventilated plastic hood to the hood pivot they installed earlier.

They close the hood over the engine, then apply make and model number decals.

This directional drilling machine is now fully built and ready for testing.

As the rack tilts down at the front, hydraulically-powered outrigger feet at the back descend, raising the machine into the drill position.

Giant augurs at the front keep the machine on the ground.

The rack's gearbox is powered by a hydraulic motor.

It rotates the drill rod while the carriage moves the rod through the ground.

When the job's done, the carriage moves back, retracting the rod.

With all its rods joined together, this small machine can drill almost 400 feet.

Pet grooming combs are specifically designed for animal fur.

They can get down to the roots to detangle, loosen, and remove dead hair.

A good grooming comb is essential to the primping process.

It's believed that the pets of british and french nobility were the first to be regularly groomed centuries ago.

Today, a lot of pets receive the royal treatment.

At this factory, pet combs start with bundles of long brass bars.

A computer-guided saw slices them into 6-inch pieces.

Each piece will be transformed into a comb body.

An employee inserts six of the brass pieces into a vice and tightens the clamps.

A computerized drill carves dimples into the ends of each of the blanks.

This is called a predrill.

The drill returns to each dimple, producing precisely-cut holes to join the comb body to a handle.

Next, a computerized drill bores into the brass pieces, creating small holes for the comb's teeth.

The spacing of the holes varies depending on the type of comb being made.

Combs with tightly-spaced teeth are used for finer fur.

The combs are now ready for teeth.

An employee inserts three comb bodies in a fixture, then grabs a handful of steel pins and pops them into the holes, one by one.

These steel teeth aren't sharp.

They've been blunted to avoid hurting the animal during combing.

She gently taps the steel teeth with a hammer to force them further into the holes.

She brushes off any residual shavings from the earlier drilling.

Then, she places the combs on a demagnetizer.

It erases any magnetic fields in the steel teeth that could compromise the chrome plating finish they will soon receive.

Next, a punch sets the steel teeth in their final position.

At another station, a device cuts extruded aluminum into shorter pieces.

These pieces of aluminum will be the pet comb handles.

Their contoured shape is designed for easy gripping.

A worker clamps one of the handles in a fixture.

It holds the handle steady as he drills rivet holes in both ends.

The fixture also helps locate the holes through lined channels called bushings.

By drilling through the bushings, he produces accurate rivet holes every time.

In the meantime, the comb assembly has been plated with a rust-resistant nickel and chrome finish.

It's ready to be joined to the handle.

An employee aligns the holes in the comb with the holes in the handle, and places them in a riveter.

The tool flattens the rivets against the handle on both sides.

Then, she dabs adhesive around the open ends of the handle and inserts plastic caps.

She hammers the caps down.

The glue sets quickly, creating a strong seal.

After about a half hour of work, this pet grooming comb is now complete.

It should last for many years.

There will, no doubt, be many tangles ahead, but this comb will pull through them.

And, in the end, fido will look and feel a whole lot better.

Stained glass windows add beauty and light to places of worship.

Over time, exposure to the elements and pollution can cause the glass, metal framework, and glazing to deteriorate.

Restoration ensures the survival of these sacred works of art for future generations.

They are incredible picture windows.

Each stained glass panel depicts a religious scene.

But it is a fragile art, and often, only a restoration can ensure its survival.

It starts with a thorough evaluation.

An assessor photographs the window.

She examines every part as well as measures the panes and connecting lead strips known as cames.

She numbers the parts and loads information about their condition into a computer.

These cames are in bad shape, so they'll need to completely disassemble the panel and rebuild it.

First, they make a rubbing.

A member of the team places a large sheet of paper over the back of the window.

He rubs a wax crayon over the raised led strips to transfer the pattern of the panes.

After testing the condition of the paint on the panes, he submerges the glass in a non-acidic cleaning solution, and leaves it overnight.

This softens the glazing cement between the lead strips so the window can be easily disassembled.

He clips off the lead strips.

He extracts the glass and cleans off the glazing using a straight-edged razor.

He gently scrubs off residue with a soft-bristle brush, and wipes the glass clean.

He pieces together the glass panes within the paper pattern.

Most of the panes are in good condition and can be preserved.

But one is fractured and held together with special conservation tape.

They'll need to replace it.

A craftsperson traces the outline of the cracked piece onto a new piece of glass.

She scores the new glass, giving the outline a wide margin.

She snaps the glass along the score line, then cuts the glass along the tracing lines.

She compares the pieces to confirm they have the same silhouette.

She copies the designs onto the new pane and mixes a matte paint that matches the one on the broken pane.

She then shades the designs on the new pane with the matte paint.

She dabs it with a brush to create fine, crisscrossed lines.

Then, she switches to a brush with shorter and stiffer bristles.

She removes some of the paint, following the designs on the pane.

This creates highlights.

She fires the glass in a hot kiln, and then lowers the temperature to anneal it.

This process reduces brittleness.

Switch compares the replicated pane to the broken one.

She joins all the stained glass panes using new lead cames.

She taps the panes gently with a rubber mallet to fit them snugly into the grooves of the cames.

This lead matrix will both unify the numerous panes and create visual interest with bold strokes.

Using an electric soldering iron, she melts tin and lead solder where the channeled lead strips intersect.

These solder joints hold the window's lead skeleton together.

Another team member applies glazing cement across the front and back of the stained glass panel.

The cement provides waterproofing and added strength.

He sprinkles calcium carbonate onto the wet cement.

It's known as whiting.

The whiting soaks up excess oil in the glaze.

As he brushes it off, it cleans and polishes the panel.

He trims the cement around the lead strips to give them a clean edge.

Finally, he vacuums up the glazing residue.

With the restoration complete, he props the stained glass panel against a backlight.

It shines like new when illuminated.

It's taken about a week to restore this stained glass window.

It should last another century or more, providing plenty of opportunities for spiritual reflection.


Glass Cookware
Soap Bars
Steel Drums
Firefighter Uniforms

Today on "how it's made"...

Glass cookware...

Soap bars...

Steel drums...

And firefighter uniforms.

Pyrex is an idea cooked up by the wife of a glass-industry scientist in 1913.

She believed the tough glass used in lantern globes would be great for baking cakes in, so she baked one in some glass her husband brought home.

The cake was a hit, changing the notion that glass was too fragile for the oven.

Today, in most homes, you'll find different types of cookware, many of which are made from pyrex.

To produce some dishes, a batch feeder pushes ingredients into a big furnace as they spill out of a bin overhead.

Silica sand is the biggest part of the mix.

It's a crystalline substance, and it makes glass transparent.

The batch also includes soda ash and recycled glass.

Some of the other ingredients are a trade secret.

The furnace heats the mix to the melting point, over 2,700 degrees fahrenheit.

It turns into molten glass that looks like lava.

The glass, in this lava-like form, will spend up to 24 hours in the furnace.

On its way out, mechanical shears cut it into gobs.

The gobs slide down a water-cooled chute and drop into a baking-dish-shaped mold.

There are 16 molds on a rotating table.

As it turns, the table delivers the gob-filled molds to a plunger, which presses them into the baking-dish shape.

Continuing to rotate, the table positions the molds under blowers.

They cool the freshly-molded glass so it holds its shape.

A mechanical arm suctions up the glass dish and sets it down on another revolving table.

Flames lick the glassware from burners above and below.

The dish is exposed to a temperature of over 1,800 degrees fahrenheit.

This softens its sharp edges so that the rim is smooth.

Next, hoses blast high-pressure air, cooling the dishes to solidify them, so that a mechanical arm can pick them up without ruining them.

It transports the glass dishes to a conveyor belt.

Further down, another arm feeds the dishes to a kiln, where heating and cooling cycles temper the glass.

This is what gives pyrex its strength.

Now it's time to make the lid.

A different plunger presses glass gobs into a lid shape.

Every lid needs a knob, so a valve inside the mold forms it, and then thrusts the lid up to be picked up by a mechanical arm.

The arm flips its lid and sets it down on a conveyor belt.

The lids are on the move, traveling through a tempering kiln.

On their way out, a fan cools them off so that they can be handled by human hands this time.

Workers inspect each glass lid before packing them.

On another line, measuring cups are produced.

Little platforms lift the measuring cups to suctioning arms that protrude from a revolving silk-screen machine.

A little squeegee forces enamel through a screen, printing measurements onto the cup.

Over in the lab, a worker roughs up a sample dish.

By rubbing it with sandpaper, he mimics years of wear and tear.

But it's about to be subjected to even more abuse.

He places a sharp tool in the center of the dish and takes aim with a hammer.

Will it break without shattering into numerous little shards?

It's a clean break, which means this dish has met the quality standards.

The widespread use of soap has elevated our standards of cleanliness.

The ingredients that are used in soap remove dirt and dangerous pathogens.

Regularly washing your hands can reduce the chances of you getting sick and will make your world a more hygienic place.

Soap comes in a variety of shapes, colors, and textures, even different scents.

But it all starts in a bubbling kettle, where animal or vegetable fat reacts with sodium hydroxide, a caustic substance, to create soap.

They add water to keep it fluid, as steam bubbles up through the center to mix it all up and encourage the chemical reaction.

This may look like an arctic ice floe, but it's the leftovers-- soap that settled at the bottom of the kettle.

They pour it all into this tank and reuse it in the next batch.

Now they spray hot liquid soap onto a big metal roll.

It solidifies in a flash, and a big blade scrapes it off the roll, creating ribbons of soap.

The soap ribbons plunge into a hopper, where an auger moves the soap along, sending it down a chute.

The soap ribbons fall all the way to the next floor to big steel rollers called mills.

They mix and compress the soap.

A blade scrapes it off the rollers and cuts it into ribbons again, but these soap ribbons are denser.

Inside the next hopper, another auger turns.

It pushes the soap through an extruder called a noodle plate that shapes it into soap noodles.

As the noodles fall from the extruder, they're collected in bins, which are then dumped into a mixer.

At this point, they add color in powder and liquid form.

Steel blades stir it up until the color coats the soap noodles.

They add some fragrant oils, and the blades toss it all together.

When the batch is ready, a trapdoor opens.

The blades keep turning, nudging the soap out the door.

Then it's forced through another noodle plate.

This mixes up the batch a little more.

Next they push the soap through a forming plate, making a long bar.

Blades mounted on a track slice it into shorter pieces called slugs.

The soap slugs are on their way to the next stage.

They're on a two-lane thoroughfare heading into a die-press.

A mechanical arm pushes the slugs through an oval plate, trimming it and then loading it into the die.

The die rotates to accept the slugs.

Mechanical presses move in to shape and stamp them.

Mechanical arms suction the bars to remove them from the die.

These mechanical pushers help.

They nudge the soap bars out of the die towards the suctioning arms.

The oval soap bars now travel through a wrapping station.

A blade crimps and heat-seals the plastic wrap in one fell swoop.

Then automated grippers grasp the wrapped bars and load them into a machine, which slides them into little boxes.

Now it's time to pack them up and ship them off to the store.

The story of the steel drum begins in trinidad in the 1930s, when street-band skirmishes led to the ban of skin drums.

So people improvised and made drums from thick bamboo poles, car parts, tins, and, finally, oil barrels.

Steel drums have a very distinctive sound.

when people first started pounding on steel instruments, they inadvertently dented them.

That's how they discovered that each dent produced a different pitch.

So now steel drums are created with the same idea.

To make a drumhead, they cut a piece of steel into a circle.

They weld a metal ring onto it, and then they position a metal shell, or skirt, on the ring and weld it in place.

The drum is held in a big clamp while a worker pinpoints the drumhead's exact center.

He places a measuring guide there, using it to mark radial lines from the center to the rim.

Each line is 10 degrees apart.

As the drum turns, he draws circular lines to make a grid.

Now he pounds the head of the drum with a pneumatic hammer, using the grid as a guide to ensure the work is done evenly.

It takes 8 hours of hammering to transform the drum into a bowl-like shape.

This is called sinking the drum.

Then, with a special guide for curved surfaces, a technician measures out another grid inside the bowled drumhead.

He outlines the notes that are about to be hammered out-- in this case, a high "b" and an "e".

Then he hammers down the steel around each one to shape the note.

Getting this right takes skill and a lot of time, up to 50 hours.

He trims the drum skirt to the correct length and tapes a stencil of the company logo onto the skirt.

This device is an electrical etching machine.

It uses acid and electric current to eat away the steel exposed through the stencil.

Now a technician wields an ultrasonic thickness probe.

She presses it against a note.

Using high-frequency sound waves, the probe measures the steel's thickness to within a fraction of an inch.

She grinds down the notes where needed.

Then, using a scribing tool, she scratches a line around each note, so it will be visible to the player.

Now it's time to make sure they have the right note.

To tune a steel drum, the technician plays a note with a stick and then dents it with a hammer to adjust the pitch.

You have to listen very carefully.

He hammers the note until it sounds right.

Sometimes, he turns the drum upside down to knock out a note from the underside.

For the fine-tuning, he relies on an electronic tuner.

A microphone delivers the sound to it, and the lines on the screen tell him if the note is in tune or not.

Next, he burns the border of each note with a blowtorch.

Then he cools it down with water.

The process tempers the steel, making the notes more resonant.

He tunes the drum again, checking for flaws.

After the drum is chrome-plated, he tunes it a final time.

It has taken 120 hours to make this steel drum.

Now it's time to take a break and listen to the unique sound.

firefighters have been doing their jobs heroically for centuries.

Their uniforms, however, were not always up to the task.

Good thing today's firefighters are cloaked in layers of space-age material.

The protective armor has virtually eliminated firefighter deaths caused by burn injuries.

A computer-guided machine cuts out more than 90 parts to make the outer shell, just one of three layers in a firefighter's jacket.

This fabric contains synthetic fiber known as pbi, which protects against temperatures as high as 1,200 degrees fahrenheit.

Another machine tapes the seams of the jacket's middle layer, the moisture barrier.

Pressure rollers and high heat activate glue in the tape, sealing the seams.

This synthetic fabric lets perspiration through, but blocks some harmful liquids, such as battery acid, hydraulic fluid, or infected blood.

Now they line the moisture barrier with the thermal liner, the jacket's third and innermost layer.

This synthetic fabric protects against heat of up to 800 degrees fahrenheit.

To reinforce the cuffs, hems, and front and back panels, a worker sews them together with a heat-resistant tape and thread, but she leaves the neck area unattached, so the firefighters can pull the jacket inside out to inspect the liner between rescues.

Back to the outer shell.

A worker sews two orange-and-silver stripes to the front and back panels.

She also sews a stripe onto each sleeve.

The florescent orange makes the firefighter more visible in daylight.

The reflective silver is for nighttime or in the smoke.

In some cases, she adds reflective die-cut letters identifying the fire department or spelling the firefighter's name.

A strip of velcro goes onto the left front panel.

It's one of four ways to fasten the jacket, in addition to zippers, snaps, and hooks.

To keep water from entering through the front of the jacket, they attach a strip of the same fabric used to make the moisture barrier.

A worker sews it inside the outer shell's right front panel, what's called the storm flap.

The storm flap's other side gets a velcro strip that mates with the velcro on the left panel.

They attach the front panels to the back panels.

A worker folds the garment over, and the machine sews through two layers at once.

It's another way to reinforce the seams of the jacket.

They use a different sewing machine to attach the sleeves.

A worker sews five different seams to join the shoulder areas.

This is critical because firefighters carry a 24-pound air tank on their back.

The seams spread out the stress this weight places on the jacket.

A worker attaches three metal snaps to the inside front of the outer shell.

These will attach the outer shell to the two inner layers.

Then, a heat-resistant plastic zipper.

This machine applies three rivets to each of four spring-loaded hooks along the right front panel of the jacket.

A six-foot-long strap cinches around the armpits to drag an injured firefighter away from danger.

A worker then snaps together the assembled inner layers to the outer shell.

There are four snaps on each cuff, which could heat up quickly in a fire.

Tabs ensure they never burn the firefighter's skin.

The front panels come together with four snaps on each side.

The four-inch collar unfolds, covering the neck to where it meets the firefighter's helmet.

Fully assembled, the jacket weighs about four and a half pounds.

This testing device gauges how long it would take to sustain a second-degree burn.

A gas burner shoots a flame that's exactly 2,000 degrees fahrenheit directly onto the jacket's outer layer.

A heat sensor mimics human skin's sensitivity to heat.

The material fails the test if the transferred heat would cause second-degree burns in less than 17 1/2 seconds.

Finally, they shower the uniform for 20 minutes to test its watertight seal.

The dummy's wearing a cotton bodysuit underneath.

Just one wet spot on the bodysuit, and the uniform fails inspection.


Blast Doors
Lipstick
Artificial Palm Trees
Brass Plaques

With a black market for firearms and terrorism a worldwide threat, armed forces need to protect their munitions from getting into the wrong hands.

Weapons are often stored in earth-covered concrete bunkers that have special doors.

These mammoth steel doors are designed to prevent anyone from blasting their way into a military bunker to access the munitions stored inside.

The key to the doors' exceptional strength-- a grid structure core made from steel slats 6 inches wide and 6mm thick.

A computer-guided torch notches half the slats so the other half can slot into them to form the grid structure.

Workers assemble the grid structure on top of a nearly 1/2-inch-thick steel plate, the exterior face of the door.

Because the grids have empty space in the middle, they provide three-dimensional strength without the excessive weight of a solid core.

Even so, these doors weigh almost 10 tons each.

Once the slats are all assembled, workers weld the bottom of the grids to the plate.

Then with a manual gas torch, they trim the ends of the slats so they'll fit inside the channel of the steel framing that will run around the perimeter.

Once they've installed framing on all four sides, they clamp everything in position, then weld all around.

They run a string line to properly position and weld l-shaped steel tabs to the top of the grid structure.

These tabs, two per grid, will support the interior face of the door.

Then they fill each grid with mineral fiber insulation.

This prevents moisture from condensing on the inside of the door.

They take the steel plate for the interior door face, drill several 1/2-inch-wide holes through it...

And lay it onto the structure, aligning the holes with the grid tabs.

Then they weld the plate's perimeter to the framing and each hole to the grid tab beneath it.

Once workers have finished constructing the doors, they weld on hinge pins and locking mechanisms.

The frame on which the doors hang is made of two heavy, vertical steel beams with hinge pin receivers and two horizontal steel tubes.

In the middle is a temporary cross bracing to keep the frame square and to prevent it from buckling under the weight of the doors before installation is complete.

Onsite, the installers first mount the door frame.

Then, using a forklift with an extended boom, a type of heavy lifting arm, they carefully descend the door's hinge pins into the receivers on the frame.

Crews then build the bunker's concrete structure around the installed door.

Once the concrete has properly cured, they remove the frame cross bracing.

A handle on the door releases a foot bolt, which slots into the base of the frame.

This prevents the locked door from bowing.

The lock itself is a massive dead bolt with a tungsten-carbide rod inside, making it impossible to saw through.

As an added layer of security, the military installs a monitoring system that sends out a signal the second anyone tries to open the door, even with the key.

If the entry is unauthorized, soldiers descend on the bunker to apprehend the intruder.

Throughout history, women have enhanced their lips with color.

Cleopatra led the way over 2,000 years ago.

She used crushed ants and beetles to redden her lips.

Today a tube of lipstick does the job nicely.

No need to mess around with crushed bugs.

Lipstick comes in a case that also serves as an applicator, and that's the beauty of it.

Just just twist the stick and apply color to make lackluster lips look luscious.

Lipstick ingredients include waxes, pigments, and moisturizers.

A worker pre-weighs everything following a formula.

The exact blends are usually a company secret.

She pours the measured ingredients into a kettle, that melts and mixes them together.

She adds a plant-based gel known as plantolatum.

It will act as a skin softener and also enable the lipstick to be smoothly applied.

Different waxes-- carnauba, candelilla, and beeswax-- add body to the mixture.

The waxes will also give the lipstick a certain sheen upon application.

With the base mixture prepared, she now whips up a batch of pigment using different iron oxide colorants.

She scoops it onto rollers that grind the pigment particles while rolling it into sheet form.

It takes three passes through the rollers to fully grind the pigment.

It's ready to be added to the base mixture.

She lowers the heat in the kettle to avoid scalding the ingredients.

She adds pigment until the mixture thickens and becomes creamy.

It's now the right consistency to be shaped into lipstick.

It's over to the next station where another worker pours the lipstick liquid into a filling machine.

This filling system also has a mixer that keeps the consistency creamy.

She places a mold under the filling machine and activates a lift.

It serves up the mold to nozzles that pump lipstick liquid into the slots of the mold.

She continues to fill lipstick molds until the supply in the machine has been depleted.

She places the molds on a conveyer, which takes them through a nearly five-foot-long cooling tunnel.

The chilly trip causes the lipstick liquid to solidify.

The lipsticks are now ready for their swiveling, tubular containers.

She places a rack on top of the mold and inserts the cases into slots on the rack.

The slots are aligned with the lipsticks in the mold.

Then it's over to the turnaround machine.

Bursts of air gently push the lipstick out of the mold and up into the cases.

To assist, little pushers apply pressure to the bottoms of the cases.

The lipsticks have made their transfer without a smudge.

She sets them down and removes the transfer rack.

On another conveyor, the lipsticks pass by heat guns.

The hot air melts the lipsticks just a little to make them shine.

Continuing on, the lipsticks travel past rollers that turn the cases to cause the lipsticks to swivel down.

A testers samples a lipstick from every batch to determine the melting point.

This is important because lipstick should be stable enough not to melt in a purse on a hot day.

He smears lipstick shavings onto a glass disk and examines their consistency.

He places the sample on a heating element and swings a magnifying glass overhead for a close-up view as the lipstick shavings melt into a puddle.

Checking a thermometer, he confirms that the melting point is within an acceptable range.

Another worker then compares the color of the freshly made lipstick to the standard, and it's a match.

So they wrap up production with a plastic cap.

The cap is clear to showcase the shade of the lipstick.

It has taken about a day to manufacture this lipstick.

It's time to freshen up.

There's no need to close your eyes and imagine you're in a tropical paradise when artificial palm trees are part of the landscaping.

They can provide a touch of tropical in any climate, but making a synthetic copy of one of nature's towering achievements is no small task.

With artificial palm trees, there are no watering or other maintenance worries, so you really have it made in the shade.

To manufacture a palm tree, a worker wraps sticky mesh tape around a tubular piece of polyvinyl chloride.

This tube will establish the shape of the trunk, and the tape will allow the next layers to adhere to it.

While all that taping is going on, a welder pieces together the tree's solid-steel skeleton.

He welds the base plate to a pole.

He strengthens the joint with lateral supports called gussets.

The gussets should enable the palm tree to withstand heavy winds.

He adds height to the tree skeleton with another piece of steel.

Artificial palm trees can be made to exact specifications, while in nature, things are less precise.

After a coat of rust-inhibiting paint, they're ready to insert the steel skeleton into the taped pvc pipe.

One worker clamps the end of the steel structure to a table, and the other member of the team slides the trunk core onto it.

They screw the trunk to the steel skeleton in several places.

With a foot pedal, a member of the team activates a spindle, and it turns the palm tree trunk so he can efficiently wrap synthetic rubber around it.

The effect simulates natural growth rings.

He brushes an adhesive onto the rubber, ensuring complete coverage.

The adhesive is high-strength and waterproof, qualities that will allow this synthetic concrete to stick to it in all kinds of weather.

The concrete is made of many components, including silicone and liquid rubber, and is the consistency of peanut butter.

He spreads it onto the entire palm tree trunk.

After an overnight cure, the coating solidifies and he paints it with exterior latex paint using a light touch.

He adds contrast with darker paint.

It highlights the rubber ridges on the trunk to make it look more authentic.

While the paint dries, he turns his attention to the slotted steel trunk cap.

He applies some of the synthetic concrete used on the trunk.

It will serve as an adhesive as he now presses a cocoa-fiber fringe to the cap.

The fringe of fiber camouflages the steel and makes the cap look like a tree husk.

He ties it with wire to maintain the arrangement.

He tightens it with pliers and snips off the excess.

He disguises the wire with more of the synthetic concrete.

And after it cures, he paints it to match the cocoa fibers.

Successfully disguised by cocoa fiber and paint, he bolts the steel cap to the treetop.

The next worker tapes a flat steel bar to the stem of palm foliage which is made of polyethylene.

He reinforces the job with two metal clamps.

He crimps the clamps tightly to the stem and bar.

These palm fronds, as they're called, provide the crowning touch.

They insert the steel bars in the slotted cap and then bend the fronds back to a more realistic angle.

It's taken about an hour and a half to manufacture this artificial palm tree, easier than waiting a decade or more for a real one to grow.

And with the job done, it's time for a piña colada.

A brass plaque prominently identifies an important site.

Think historical landmarks, memorials, hospital donor walls, walks of fame.

Many professional firms identify their offices and many homes display their addresses with an elegant plaque made of brass.

A brass plaque makes a bold and lasting statement.

Making one begins with a wooden model, minus the lettering, covered in artificial leather where they want a bumpy texture.

They use this model to cast an aluminum pattern.

A typesetter draws guidelines on the pattern for the inscription, then glues pewter lettering on the lines.

Getting the pattern perfect is essential, as this is what they use to make the sand mold for casting the brass plaque.

The typesetter hands off the pattern to the molders, who spray the surface with a release agent, the industrial version of nonstick cooking spray.

This will prevent the pattern from adhering to the sand mold they're about to make with it.

After laying the pattern in a high-edge steel frame, they pour in a mixture of silica sand and resin, filling it to the top and compacting tightly.

After 15 minutes, the resin cures, binding the grains of sand.

The molders then flip the frame and lift off the top half of it.

A hard block of sand is in the bottom half containing a mirror image of the plaque pattern.

This is the sand mold with which they'll cast the plaque in brass.

The molders now spray the surface with a solution of alcohol and graphite, then they burn off the alcohol with a lighter, leaving behind a film of graphite.

This heat-resistant layer will prevent the sand mold from eroding when it comes into contact with the molten metal.

Workers charge the furnace with brass ingots, as well as with pieces of excess brass from previous castings.

The furnace temperature, 2,300 degrees fahrenheit, liquifies the solid metal in about 20 minutes.

Then the molders pour the molten brass through a hole at the top of the mold.

The hole feeds two channels leading to the cavity.

The metal begins solidifying immediately.

However, it's a good hour before the casting is fully hardened, at which point, they open the mold to extract the plaque.

Attached to it are runners, excess metal that solidifies in the channels leading to the mold cavity.

So, after knocking the sand out of the frame to release the plaque...

They saw off the runners, then throw them back into the furnace to be remelted for the next casting.

They grind the edge of the plaque with an abrasive wheel, smoothing the nubs where the runners were cut off and making the plaque perfectly round and straight-edged.

With a steel scraper, they clean up the surface, removing flakes of metal and remnants of sand and graphite.

They dissolve sulfurated potash in warm water.

This chemical solution oxidizes metal, creating what looks like a natural patina, a darkening of the surface that develops with age.

After preparing the solution, they transfer it to a large basin.

A kiddy wading pool does the trick.

Then they dip the plaque, keeping it submerged until they get enough patina to make the brass look antique.

They rinse off the chemical with water and dry the plaque with compressed air.

They gently press a vibrating abrasive belt against the plaque.

It polishes the raised surfaces, removing their patina and restoring their brassy shine.

This finishing creates depth by highlighting the relief against the dark background.

Just one last step before the plaque is ready to take its rightful place.

Workers spray the surface with a coat of clear urethane.

This prevents the brass from tarnishing and protects the plaque from weathering when mounted outdoors.


Pocket Knives
Soapstone Products
Electric Pole Transformers
Snowshoes

Today on "how it's made"...

Pocketknives...

Soapstone products...

Electric pole transformers...

And traditional snowshoes.

Pocketknives can be used to cut rope or slice an orange.

Just unfold the blade, and you're good to go.

Folding knives actually date back to ancient rome.

Many centuries later, the smaller pocket-sized versions came along so people could carry their knives without shredding their pockets.

Pocketknives can pack a lot of punch.

They often contain several blades and tools, all of which can be retracted into the handle.

To make pocketknives, rollers first feed a strip of stainless steel to a series of dyes.

Then dyes punch out blade shapes.

They cut holes in the handle for installation, stamp on the company logo, and create grooves so the user can get a grip.

A trip into a fiery furnace hardens the metal.

It's the first step in heat-treating the blades.

Once they're cool, the blade shapes are placed on the magnetized rim of a rotating carousel.

It moves the base of the blades under an induction-heating coil.

The heat anneals that end, making it pliable enough to bend and easier to fit in the pocketknife handle.

A robot now transfers a blade shape into a computerized grinder that bevels the edge but leaves it blunt.

It won't get its cutting edge until later.

Here you can see the difference the grinding makes.

Vibrating ceramic pellets polish the blades with paste for 32 hours to achieve a mirror finish.

A magnetic belt collects them and transfers them to the next station.

Meanwhile, a rocking cutting tool carves ridges into a piece of cow shinbone, which will adorn the pocketknife handle.

A bag of those ridged shinbones are dipped in dye, tinting them a vibrant green.

Cow shinbone is just one of the many materials used to adorn the knives.

Some are synthetic, and some are natural, like this material-- mammoth ivory.

Using epoxy adhesive, workers decorate these pieces of bone with embellished metal inlay.

Then they trim the excess bone so that it's flush to the metal liner.

Next, they place a spring on the underside of the bone and brass part followed by a rocker arm and a spacer.

This sandwich is finished off with another bone-covered brass liner.

Workers insert blades in one end, first dipping them in oil for lubrication.

A pin holds it all together.

A separate set of blades goes in the other end of the pocketknife, and another pin is inserted.

A pneumatic tool flattens the ends of the pins, riveting all the parts together.

Sometimes a shim is pounded between the layers so the knives can move more freely.

It's a little fine-tuning.

The pinheads are grinded down to blend them to the rest of the pocketknife.

Sparks fly as workers hone the beveled edges against a belt sander until they're sharp enough to cut.

Next, all the blades are retracted, and the knife is buffed until it shines.

Here a laser edges an insignia into the bone handle.

The engraving is enhanced with paint.

And now you have a pocketknife that's sharp and sharp-looking.

Coming up, soapstone products-- a real rock-'n'-roll story.

Dig deep into the history of civilization, and you'll find plenty of soapstone.

Over the centuries, it's been used to make everything from cookware to countertops to the kitchen sink.

Soapstone doesn't stain or burn, and that's why it continues to be a rock-solid material.

But before you can make something out of soapstone, you need raw materials.

Several deep holes are bored into a soapstone hillside.

The horizontal and vertical holes form an intersecting lattice.

Miners loop one end of a long diamond-encrusted cable and attach it to a rod.

This makes it easy to maneuver as they snake the cable through one of the vertical holes.

A coiled snare is attached to the cable's other end and inserted in one of the horizontal holes, jiggling it around it until the snare snags the loop.

Next, the cable is threaded through the rock.

Two ends of the cable are crimped together to create one big circle over 200 feet in circumference.

A section of the diamond cable is wound around mechanical wheels.

The machine moves backward as the wheels turn the cable through the rock, and slowly but surely the tiny diamonds saw through the soapstone.

The process kicks up a lot of talc, the mineral that gives this stone its soapy texture.

So water is sprayed into the cut to minimize the dusty fallout.

As the cable exits the rock, it snaps off the wheels, so everyone has to steer clear.

It has taken about 20 minutes to slice through this soapstone hillside.

Now it's time for the excavator.

As it pulls the soapstone away from the hillside, the slab breaks into chunks, each one about two or three square yards.

The chunks are washed.

Then they're lifted up by a front-end loader and delivered to a band saw.

Like the cable, the saw has a diamond edge that easily cuts through the stone.

They get several one-inch thick slabs from each block, perfect for a countertop.

The smaller-end slabs are used to build apron sinks.

This type of sink was first popular a century and a half ago.

But these days, computerized blades and lasers make the job of building one a whole lot easier.

The laser lines serve as guides while the blades cut the soapstone to precise dimensions.

This piece will be the bottom of the sink.

A precision grinder tapers the sink bottom from the center out so that liquid will flow down into a drain in the middle.

Next, a drain hole is punched out.

A constant flow of water keeps the cutter cool and the dust down.

Epoxy resin is mixed with hardener for a high-strength waterproof adhesive.

It's quickly applied along the edge of the sink bottom so it doesn't dry.

Then a sink wall is pressed onto the glued surface.

They piece together the rest of the sink, and it's ready to blend in with the soapstone countertop.

From the shower floor to the stove surround soapstone can perform many functions with style.

When we return, the shocking truth behind electric pole transformers.

Electric transformers-- we see them everywhere but often take for granted the big part they play in our everyday lives.

Their job is to transform the high voltage from electrical power lines to the lower voltage that's suitable for home use.

Without them, raw electrical power would be virtually useless to the average person.

Transformers are a critical part of modern life, but did you ever stop to wonder what's inside those canisters?

To build a transformer, workers start by taking paper that's coated with epoxy glue and tape it to a wooden block.

Next component-- an 1/8-of-an-inch-thick aluminum strip.

It's a metal that can withstand the heat that a high-voltage current produces.

As the block is rotated, the paper and the aluminum strip are wrapped around it.

An aluminum bus bar, called the low-voltage lead, sends low voltage current out from the transformer.

Workers fold the lead and move the unit to another rotating block for more wrapping.

The insulating paper has epoxy glue on both sides.

This glue will later melt and bond several components in place.

On the next block, a worker tapes on more epoxy paper along with epoxy-coated copper wire.

He covers the paper...

Then repeats the same process, forming a second layer of copper wire.

He solders a high-voltage lead wire to the copper wire then rolls yet another layer of copper wire.

Next, he welds on what's called the lead wire out, the wire that will protrude from the transformer cylinder and attaches vinyl-coated wires that will connect to different voltages out of the transformer.

This completed unit is called the coil.

Now using electrical steel, workers build the transformer's other main component, called the core.

The coil and core are tightly secured together with metal strapping, which will help to fix the assembly in the tank.

Then it's into an oven where they bake for 8 hours at 275 degrees.

The heat improves insulation by removing any traces of humidity.

It also melts the epoxy glue, fusing together the paper, the aluminum strip, and the copper wires.

The assembly now goes into a steel tank.

A rubber gasket is hammered around the perimeter, and a grounding wire is bolted on.

Then three thermoplastics bushings are inserted.

Workers connect the low-voltage lead to the thermplastic bushings then bolt the bushings to the tank.

They adhere an oil-filling guide to the side of the tank then position an automated filling machine.

A machine fills the tank with mineral oil, drawing a vacuum to make sure the oil disburses throughout the coil and core.

The oil is used for its thermal and insulating properties.

An internal fault detector will alert maintenance crews if there is a short circuit.

A worker runs lead wire through the thermoplastic bushing and secures it in place.

Next comes the high-voltage connector.

Finally, the tank cover is bolted shut.

The transformation, so to speak, is finished.

Before transformers go into service, they have to undergo some truly electrifying tests.

This equipment simulates a 145,000 volt lightning strike.

Then it's into a water tank to test the transformer for leaks.

If it passes muster, it could soon be appearing at a pole near you.

Up next, how they make snowshoes step by step.

Historians believe the ancestors of north american native peoples brought snowshoes with them when they migrated from central asia some 4,000 years ago.

Today, the tradition of snowshoe making lives on thanks to skilled artisans who combine an age-old craft with a few modern improvements.

Every snowshoe frame comes from a single piece of hardwood, usually white ash.

Craftsmen start with a two-yard strip about 3/4 of an inch thick.

Using a planer, they thin the middle down to about half an inch.

Then it's on to a table saw, where each end is tapered to a fine point.

They take the trim pieces known as bows and hammer steel braces onto each one.

These support the wood where it's thinnest so it won't break later on during the bending process.

The bows go into a steam chamber to soften the wood.

30 minutes later, they're damp enough to bend without breaking.

The craftsmen start working from the middle, the area called the toe, where the wood is thinnest and easiest to bend.

They wrap it around a steel form on a bending jig...

Then lay one tapered end over the other and tack them together.

Now back to the steamer for a second bow to complete the pair.

A temporary crossbar helps hold the shape.

Different steel forms are used to shake different snowshoe models.

The frame is set on a bending machine called a press break.

Then a wooden bar is positioned on the frame to act as a fulcrum.

As the press comes down, it curves the tip of the frame about 2 3/4 inches upward.

A crossbar is inserted lengthwise to hold the bend in place.

Still damp from the steam chamber, the frames will need to dry out for several days.

Only then can the temporary crossbars safely come out.

The craftsmen then sand the wood to a smooth finish.

They drill slots on the inside for the two permanent crossbars while another machine stamps those bars with the company logo.

It takes just a quick stretch to insert the bars-- one near the toe, the other near the heel.

Now the frames go for a dip in a vat of oil-based varnish to seal and waterproof the wood.

Once the varnish dries, the frames are ready for lacing.

In keeping with tradition, the laces are made of animal hide.

Wetting it makes it easier to cut into the long strips.

A skilled weaver threads her needle then begins by hooking the rawhide lace through a nylon thread that runs along the shoe's inside perimeter.

She nimbly builds up a pattern of webbing that always begins and ends with a series of triangular shapes.

This intricate weaving technique is a traditional skill passed down through generations of native canadian women.

She finishes by wrapping up the heel end of the frame with rawhide then pulls it tight.

Now that the toe piece is finished, she starts weaving the middle piece.

Using a large width of rawhide, she builds up another web of triangles, this time knotting the strips directly onto the frame.

Finally, she weaves an opening to leave room for the bindings that hold the snowshoe to your boot.

Once the rawhide dries, the webbing will lie taut across the frame.

The last step-- another coat of varnish to seal and protect both the wood and webbing.

And now these traditional snowshoes are ready to make some tracks.


Rock Crushers
Fabric Lampshades
Cake Sprinkles
Steam Irons

Rock crushers are brawny machines designed to smash big boulders to bits.

The broken rock is then used to make asphalt pavement, concrete building foundations, ceramic tile, and many other things.

Modern society is largely built on the crushing strength of these powerful machines.

If there's one invention that's been a smashing success, it's the rock crusher.

These machines are designed to pulverize.

This crusher slams rocks against anvils to shatter them along natural stress lines.

They break into uniform cubicle particles that can be processed into many different things.

Production starts with the crusher's lid.

A computer-controlled plasma torch cuts through a sheet of steel that's underwater.

The water keeps the smoke down as the plasma gas makes a sharp, precise cut.

They feed a piece of steel back and forth between rollers to shape it into the crusher body.

With each pass, the strip curls a little more.

When the two ends meet, the steel is sufficiently cylindrical.

The technician tack welds the ends while the steel is still in the rolling machine.

This holds the shape so that he can then do a complete weld.

After a bit more work, the crusher body is ready for mounting to the base frame.

They lower it into place with the crane and weld it to the section that will hold the electric motor and pedestal.

After a paint job and some fittings, the focus turns to the inside of the rock crusher.

A worker bolts steel castings to the interior wall.

The rugged castings will protect the crusher structure from damage as rocks are slammed around inside during crushing.

He secures the bolts from the outside of the crusher structure.

They're now ready to assemble the crusher bearing and shaft.

The worker starts with the bearing.

He carefully aims a torch at it, and the exposure to the steady flame causes the bearing to expand.

When it's large enough, he lowers the shaft into the bearing.

As the bearing cools, it shrinks to the shaft for a tight fit.

This takes several hours.

Then he heats the opening in a part known as the pedestal housing to enlarge it.

He inserts the shaft and bearing assembly into it.

The housing cools and shrinks to the bearing.

They also equip the other end of the shaft with a bearing and cap, and then it's time for a test run.

They run each pedestal unit for two hours so a computer can thoroughly assess its performance.

The pedestal shaft assembly has passed a gamut of tests.

It's ready to go into the crusher.

The installer bolts it to the frame in six places.

He attaches it to the protruding shaft bearing by heat shrinking it in place.

He reinforces the installation with two locknuts.

Meanwhile, a robot welds brackets onto a machined steel plate that will serve as the impeller.

The impeller is a kind of turntable that revolves to toss the rock into anvils to shatter it.

They attach parts called shoes to the brackets.

They transfer the impeller to the crusher and bolt it to the hub.

A worker installs chrome and white iron castings.

The castings are the anvils.

Arranged in a ring, they serve as the striking surface for the rocks.

He installs them on an angle and locks them in position.

The crane transfers the ring to the crusher, and the anvils now surround the impeller.

With all of the components in place, it's time to put the lid on the rock crusher.

A worker presses a decal with brand information onto the outside.

They install the electric motor, and this crusher is now ready to reduce rocks to rubble.

A lampshade is primarily practical.

It diffuses the light that bulbs emit.

It also serves a decorative purpose.

What the shade is made of, its shape, and size all influence the style of the lamp, so much so that you can give an old lamp a whole new look just by changing the shade.

Whether the look is modern or classic, putting the perfect shade on your lamp base is always a bright idea.

Manufacturing a lampshade begins with the frame.

It's made of steel wire 3 or 4 millimeters thick, depending on the shade size.

A computer-guided forming machine pulls the wire off the spindle and straightens it with rollers.

Then the machine bends and cuts the wire into the shape of each frame component.

For each frame, the machine makes two rings in the shape of the shade, typically round, square, or rectangular.

Then it makes three "l"-shaped pieces.

To assemble the top of the frame, they place one "l"-shaped piece at a time in a positioning jig alongside a steel loop with three tabs.

They weld an "l" piece to each of those tabs.

Next, they take each ring and weld it closed.

They weld the free end of the "l"-shaped pieces to one of the rings.

This completes the top of the frame.

The remaining ring forms the bottom of the frame.

Workers spray both of them with paint powder.

Then the frame parts enter an oven, which bakes the powder into a durable coating.

At the core of the fabric portion of the shade is a sheet of pvc plastic that has an adhesive on both sides.

Working one side at a time, they peel off the paper covering the adhesive, then apply the fabric gradually, carefully smoothing it out as they go to prevent creases.

This lampshade has cream-colored linen on one side and patterned cotton on the other.

Once they've applied fabric to both sides of the pvc sheet, a computer-guided cutter cuts out the shape of the shade.

It also cuts through the inside of the fabric and the pvc all along the perimeter half an inch from the edge.

This leaves a small border of only outside fabric.

They apply double-sided tape to this border on the top and bottom of the shade.

They run a bead of glue down one side edge, then fold the outside fabric border over the inner fabric.

This gives the lampshade a neat seam.

Now they assemble fabric and frame, starting with the bottom ring.

They position it just above the double-sided tape along the border, then they remove the paper to expose the tape's adhesive surface and fold the tape border tightly over the frame.

They stand up the shade on its bottom ring and position the top ring with clips.

Then they peel, fold, and stick the fabric border over the ring just as they did on the bottom.

They press all around to smooth out the fabric and ensure it adheres well.

Then, using a bent spoon, they push the edge of the fabric in behind the curved wire frame.

This creates a neat, rounded rim.

They seal the shade's vertical seam, applying glue to both the inside and outside edges.

They weigh it down for about half an hour until the glue fully cures.

The shade is now ready to add its personality to an awaiting base.

With all the lampshade's styles, shapes, colors, and fabrics available today, any lamp can have multiple personalities.

Believe it or not, cake sprinkles have been around since the late 18th century when french confectioners used them as decorations.

Chocolate sprinkles are believed to have been invented in 1936 by a dutchman responding to a little boy's request for a chocolate bread topping.

Cake sprinkles come in a variety of colors and can be found decorating and adding texture to many treats such as cupcakes, doughnuts, ice cream, and cookies.

They can quickly turn a tasty treat into a visual one, as well.

A variety of liquid and powder food colorants are among the ingredients used to make these colorful dessert decorations.

Shortening is one of the other ingredients.

A worker adds an exact quantity of shortening to a mixing tank.

Water in the tank is heated as the mixture is agitated.

Within minutes, the ingredients are absorbed.

A worker adds powdered sugar to a dry mixer.

By the time all the needed sugar has been added, the machine is full.

He adds a pre-measured amount of liquid food colorant.

Different food colorants and different amounts of colorants produce different-colored sprinkles and different shades of colors.

The mixture of water and shortening are added to the dry mixer containing the powdered sugar and colorant.

He closes the lid and begins the dough-mixing process.

About 15 minutes later, a worker opens the lid to reveal the freshly mixed and colorful dough.

A worker pushes the dough along a conveyor into a chute.

It leads to a wide collection area and another conveyor machine which moves the dough toward an extruder.

As the dough falls into the extruder, it's forced through many small holes.

It emerges as these long, narrow strands which fall onto another conveyor.

The holes through which the dough is forced are in a big plate.

To make sure the quality of the product doesn't vary, room temperature in the production area is kept constant, and the relative humidity is kept at 50%.

That same ambient air dries the dough as it moves along the conveyor through a tunnel.

About 10 seconds after it enters the tunnel, it falls into a holding vat with a pail.

A worker sifts through the dough to make sure it's properly dried.

She lifts the dough-filled pail and places it on a trolley for the trip to a tumbler.

The tumbler breaks the strands into smaller sizes.

The dough usually spends about 10 minutes here.

Any longer and the strand bits will be too small.

A nozzle sprays a mixture of confectioner's glaze and carnauba wax.

The mixer keeps the cake sprinkles from leaking color once they're placed in finished products.

Now dried and trimmed for size, a worker removes the sprinkles from the tumbler and pours them onto a shaker table.

Properly-sized pieces of dough fall through a screen along with smaller pieces as larger clumps are sorted out.

Before dropping to another conveyor, a second filter below removes under-sized granules.

The sprinkles fall into a plastic-lined packaging tub.

Cake sprinkles come in a variety of colors.

A tumbler mixes all the colors together in order to package a multi-colored product.

The various colors are mixed together for about five minutes before a worker samples the mixture to make sure the variety of colors is consistent.

Once the sprinkles have been thoroughly mixed, they fall into a line of bottles.

A jet of air directed at the top of the bottles keeps sprinkles away from the cap area.

The capping machine not only positions the cap, it also spins the bottle to screw the cap into place.

The capped bottles head to the labeling area.

An adhesive label is applied to the bottle.

These colorful sprinkles are sure to make any dessert dazzle.

The steam iron is a 20th-century invention that makes ironing less of a chore.

Less physical effort is required because the steam opens the weave of the fabric so that creases can be smoothed out more easily by the heated sole of the iron.

In the past, people used heavy wedges of iron heated over a fire to press clothing, and so they became known as irons.

But today's electric irons aren't made from iron at all.

They're made with lighter stuff like plastic and aluminum.

Production starts with this injection-molding machine.

Once the mold closes, nozzles inject three streams of plastic into the cavities, each one a different color.

The plastic hardens into a tri-colored part that is the upper shell of the iron and its handle.

The plastic shell will also serve as the iron's water tank.

The robot transfers the molded parts to automated scissors.

The scissors snip off unwanted bits that were formed as plastic flowed into the mold.

The next robot transfers a plastic ring to a printing station.

This ring will be the temperature indicator for the control knob.

Another robot stamps the measurements and other information onto it.

Nozzles inject a ceramic liquid into the iron's aluminum base-- the sole plate which contains the heating element.

The ceramic will aid in the production of steam by breaking the surface tension of the water from the tank.

A worker places a cover on top of the sole plate, and a machine rivets them together.

There's a cover for the bottom of the sole plate, as well, fittingly known as the shoe.

An injector coats all the rivets in the sole plate with silicone.

The silicone serves as a kind of glue, keeping the rivets tight.

A robot transfers the sole plate assembly to a heating unit to cure the silicone.

Another robot pumps compressed air into the sole plate to check for leaks.

The sole plate cools down from the silicone cure on the ride to the next station.

While just ahead, robots nimbly bend and twist wires to a precise geometry.

These robots are faster than humans and incredibly accurate.

Afterwards, another robot welds the wires to a post on the iron's temperature-control unit.

A carriage shuttles the unit forward, and the next robot retrieves it and transfers it to the iron sole plate assembly.

Another robot adjusts the unit's knob until it's in the correct position.

They install an aluminum silicate disk to protect the knob from heat.

A robot applies hot glue into the grooves of the iron's heat shield, which will also serve as the bottom of the water tank.

With the glue still liquid, another robot transfers the iron upper to it, and the glue cures.

Up until now, the robots have done most of the work, but it's time for a helping hand or two.

A worker transfers the iron upper assembly to the bottom one.

After the two parts have been secured and a leak test performed, another worker connects the power cord to it.

She encloses the back with another molded plastic part.

Another worker installs the steam and spray subassembly.

This part has an intake channel for fill ups and a mechanism to control the steam.

It's time for a thorough electrical test.

They plug it in, and a robot turns the knob while a computer monitors its performance.

A worker then examines the steam iron from all angles.

With her final approval, it's ready for packaging.

With robots and humans working in tandem, it takes just 10 minutes to assemble a steam iron.

Piles of rumpled laundry await, so it's full steam ahead.


Crosscut Saws
Haggis
Collectible Firearms

Chain saws and other machines may dominate forestry, but the human-powered crosscut saw still has a basic appeal.

Pushed and pulled through the trunks of trees, its jagged blade can handle any job, that is, until the person operating it runs out of gas.

Making a crosscut saw is an exact science that dates back centuries.

At this factory, they make these saws the old-fashioned way, mostly by hand.

It's a nod to a time when these saws were at the forefront of history, helping to clear the way for railways and settlements.

With guillotine blades, a worker first trims a steel rectangle along the lines measured and marked onto it.

The trimming gives it a distinctive taper and establishes the correct dimensions.

This particular saw is a one-person model, so it's about 3 feet long.

Using a punch cutter, the worker carves gullets in the steel.

These are the valleys between sawteeth, through which sawdust and debris are cleared.

He cuts one gullet every inch.

He then cuts the teeth, three between each gullet.

This pattern is known as the great american tooth.

It's designed to cut medium to hardwoods across the grain without snags.

He hammers each tooth to bend it and alternates the direction of the bends-- one up, the next down.

This is called setting the teeth.

And the result is protruding teeth that cut more efficiently.

He files each tooth, working from the bottom up to the tips and sharpens those tips to a point.

It takes about a half-hour to give this steel blank its crosscutting edge.

A worker then connects the blade to a power source.

He centers a stencil of the company logo on the saw...

And then applies liquid electrolyte to the exposed metal within the stencil.

He turns on the power, and the electrolyte conducts the current to burn the logo into the metal.

A computerized router carves a piece of beech into the pistol-shaped handle.

This software-driven tool also drills holes for installing the blade.

The computerized system is quicker and more precise than manual carving.

An employee then cuts a slot in the handle to fit the saw.

He sands the edges of the handle until it's smooth.

He then inserts the crosscut saw blade into the handle.

It's a tight fit, but to more solidly entrench it, he drills through the holes in the wood handle to make corresponding holes in the metal blade sandwiched within it.

He inserts screws into the handle, securing the blade to it.

He tightens the screws as much as possible.

And this one-person saw is now complete.

A two-person crosscut saw is crescent-shaped and longer to cut through bigger trees.

The teeth are also more substantial with deep pitches between them.

Sawdust will be expelled through these deep pitches, so there's no need for gullets in this particular cutting edge.

Once the teeth have been cut, a worker places socket fittings on each end of the saw.

He pounds in rivets to secure the fittings to the blade.

These fittings will be used to install a different kind of handle known as a fist grip, which is more suitable for a two-person saw.

It's essentially a wooden dowel that just slides into the socket fitting.

It has taken about an hour to make this crosscut saw.

Wielded with force, it will cause mighty trees to fall, proving that this low-tech tool can still cut it on the jobsite.

Haggis is scotland's national dish, made from minced lamb and beef, encased in beef intestine.

While quintessentially scottish, historians believe haggis actually originated in ancient greece and eventually made its way northward with the romans to britain.

Haggis is traditionally served with mashed potatoes and turnips-- what the scots call neeps and tatties-- along with a glass of scotch whiskey to wash it down.

At the haggis factory, the production process begins with beef fat.

They put it through a mechanical chopper, and a guillotine blade slices it up.

The chunks of fat go into a large cook tank.

They fill the tank with water and simmer the fat for 2 1/2 hours.

Then, using a strainer, they drain the cooked fat and put it in a tub.

Then they empty the tub into a mincer.

Next, they chop up lamb lungs.

Haggis recipes sometimes also use heart and liver.

They simmer those in a cook tank, as well, for 2 1/2 hours.

Using a strainer, they drain and remove the cooked chopped lungs and transfer them to a tub.

They now take dried, shredded onions and rehydrate them with some stock from the cooked meat.

They pour the onion and stock mix into the tub with the cooked lungs...

Then empty the whole thing into the mincer to join the ground fat.

Next, two different grinds of oatmeal-- medium and coarse-- to give the haggis just the right texture-- not too stiff, but not too loose.

The consistency is key, which is why the grind proportions are a closely guarded company secret.

Also a top secret-- the composition of the spice blend they now add.

All the company will divulge about this seasoning is that it includes salt and pepper.

The oatmeal and spice blend now join the other ingredients in the mincer, and there you have it-- the finished haggis mix, ready to be stuffed into casings.

In keeping with tradition, the company encases its haggis in beef intestines.

After a thorough cleaning, the intestines are stored in salt.

Before use, they soak in cold water overnight to desalinate.

This also softens them up until sufficiently pliable for the stuffing process.

On the filling line, workers slip an intestine over what's called the stuffing horn.

Then, with a knee, activate a lever that triggers the machine to pump out a set amount of haggis mix.

On this run, they're preparing the one-pound size.

They close the casing on either side with a thick aluminum staple.

Now they spread the haggis out on cooking trays and pierce each casing to let air escape as the casing shrinks during cooking.

The temperature inside the steam oven is 230 degrees fahrenheit.

The haggis cooks for one hour, during which the casing shrinks and forms into a ball shape.

Once the haggis come out of the oven and cool, workers cut them apart.

Each haggis goes into a printed plastic bag, then into a vacuum sealer.

The machine draws out 99.9% of the air before sealing the bag.

This vacuum-packing process extends a 7-to-10 day shelf life to 4 weeks.

The packaged haggis now drop into a tank of hot water.

The bags instantly shrink and thicken by 25%, making them significantly more durable.

Haggis may date back to ancient greece, but it's certainly changed with the times.

This company also makes a one-minute microwavable version, a canapé format, and even vegetarian haggis...

Far beyond what robert burns could ever have imagined.

The term "collectible firearms" refers to antique guns and top-of-the-line new guns made in the traditional style.

These firearms are mostly handmade by skilled craftsmen, using centuries-old techniques.

This quality workmanship translates into top-notch performance.

This company in england has been manufacturing rifles and shotguns since 1835.

It still uses the same traditional gun-making methods, only now with the help of modern-day computerized equipment.

Even with that technology, it's still arduous work.

Making just one gun takes, depending on the model, up to 1,250 hours of labor.

In the factory's machine shop, under a shower of lubricant, a computer-guided tooling machine shapes a solid-steel bar into a hollow tube with a rectangular plate, called a lump, on one end.

This tube will become the barrel of a shotgun.

Here, you can see the progression from bar to tube, but it's still somewhat rough, so now a highly skilled barrel maker manually files the tube to obtain exactly the right roundness.

This traditional process is known as striking the barrel.

With his expert eye, he checks his work by observing how light and shadows fall on the barrel.

Now he lays two barrels side by side in a fixture and connects their lumps with pegs.

He lays a strip of silver solder along the joint and binds the adjoined lumps with steel wire.

Then he brushes on flux, a chemical which prevents steel from oxidizing and helps molten solder flow into the joint.

He now loads this end of the pair of barrels into a small furnace.

Within about 20 minutes, the fiery heat, peaking at a temperature of 1,650 degrees fahrenheit, melts the silver solder, which flows into the joint.

The barrels are now bonded.

Next, he lays a thin strip of steel, called a rib, in the gap between the joined barrels.

This time, he uses flux made of pine-tree resin, which works better than chemical flux when soldering with tin.

He immobilizes the rib with steel wedges and wire then, using a hand torch, melts tin solder to fix the rib between the barrels.

After removing the wire and wedges, he cleans off the flux and excess tin with abrasive paper, revealing a seemingly seamless double barrel.

Now he mounts the double barrel on a fixture and coats what's called a lapping rod with oil and an abrasive powder.

He moves the rod back and forth within the barrels until their inside is ground to within a fraction of an inch of the required diameter.

This process also smoothes the interior of the bore to a mirror-like finish.

The barrel maker then polishes the outside surface to a shine.

Meanwhile, the action body, the part that houses the gun's mechanics, has already been roughly shaped.

Now the final machining in a bath of paraffin to wash away the metal debris.

In a process called spark erosion, copper electrodes of varying shapes erode the steel to create the required slots, holes, and recesses.

Quite the transformation from what started out as a solid piece of steel.

It's critical that the action's 60-plus intricate components will fit together with ultimate precision.

Once again, nothing beats the traditional method.

The actioner blackens the component with a smoke lamp.

Here, he's fitting the trigger plate.

He positions it in the action, taps a few times...

Then removes it.

The black soot marks left behind indicate where the plate needs to be filed down.

He repeats this procedure again and again until the plate fits perfectly.

He does this with each and every one of the action's components.

Using the same marking method, he also files the lumps on the barrel to fit to the action perfectly.

They hook onto a cross pin and serve as a hinge on which the barrel pivots against the action.

He also marks and files the face of the barrel so that it fits perfectly with the face of the action.

Such flawless precision is the hallmark of top-of-the-line firearms.

The shotgun's action is finished, but there are still two main components to come.

The lock is the firing mechanism.

The stock is the gun's wooden butt end that you steady against your shoulder to shoot.

Once those components join the others, the whole shotgun will be complete-- lock, stock, and barrel.

Some double-barreled shotguns have two triggers-- one per barrel.

Others have a single trigger which fires each barrel alternately.

Depending on the style of the gun, the two barrels are positioned either side by side or one over the other.

The gun's firing mechanism is called the lock.

A double-barreled gun has two locks-- one for each barrel.

Each lock consists of a plate with 14 components.

They've all been machined by the factory's computer-guided tooling equipment.

An expert craftsman assembles them by hand.

To test the lock, he uses a cocking key to simulate what happens when you pull the trigger.

The key depresses two spring-loaded sears that release and drives a tumbler forward, striking a firing pin to fire the gun.

The locks are installed on both sides of the action body, just above the trigger.

In the factory's stocking shop, another craftsman lays a template for the gun's stock onto a piece of turkish walnut, traces, and then saws out the shape.

The wood appears quite ordinary now, but wetting it a bit shows the rich grain, which an extensive finishing later on will bring out.

Just like the actioner before, he uses a smoke lamp to fit the action to the head of the stock, the soot marks telling him where to shave the wood with various chisels.

This meticulous process takes more than 40 hours because he first has to strip the action of all its parts, then fit the main body into the stock, then reassemble the action piece by piece, fitting each and every one into the wood separately.

Now, using a tool called a drawknife, he finalizes the stock's shape.

By the time he finishes, the block of walnut has gone from this to this.

A finishing specialist now applies linseed oil mixed with a hardener and polishes the wood many times over until the wood is lustrous.

In the factory's engraving shop, decorative work is underway on each lock plate.

An engraving artist first draws the design on paper, then on the plate in pencil.

She then uses a sharp tool called a graver to cut the design into the metal plate.

This process, while painstaking, requires minimal pressure.

The graver is made of either high-speed steel or tungsten carbide, extremely hard metals which cut into steel quite easily.

Later on, they'll highlight the engraving with black ink and varnish the surface to prevent tarnishing.

Now the action and lock plates undergo a heat-treatment process that hardens the steel so that it won't wear out over time.

This process leaves colors on the surface.

On luxury guns like these, customers typically request designs or markings in gold inlay.

After disassembling the barrels, the craftsmen inlays, in this case, a barrel number.

After cutting the number, he undercuts the edge of it so that the gold he then beats into the number will lock in place.

Then he files the gold inlay flush with the surface...

And smoothes off the excess with an abrasive stone.

Every gun goes out to an independent authority for extensive firing tests.

The gun returns certified with proof marks.

The very last operation is a chemical treatment to protect the steel barrel from rusting.

The steel reacts to this chemical process by turning from its natural silver color to black.

Because these guns are not mass-produced but handcrafted, with each and every component custom-fit to the neighboring component, parts from one gun are never interchangeable with those of another, even if they're the same model.

It takes approximately 1,000 working hours to produce a single gun, so customers placing an order typically wait at least a couple of years until delivery.


Hydroponic Lettuce
Construction Wood
Recycling
Fishing Flies

Today on "how it's made"...

Hydroponic lettuce, construction wood, recycling, and fishing flies.

Bet you thought the only way to grow lettuce was in a garden.

Well, vegetables don't necessarily need soil.

They can also grow in water, provided it contains the proper nutrients and fertilizers.

That's called hydroponics.

This method of growing hydroponic lettuce is called "deep pool floating raft technology".

It sounds pretty complicated, but it's really quite simple, and it all starts in the germination area with lettuce seeds.

To plant them, workers use a steel tray connected to a vacuum hose.

The tray has 276 holes, and a vacuum sucks a seed into each one.

Next they take a foam block with corresponding holes called an oasis and position it into the tray.

A quick flip deposits a seed into each hole of the oasis.

The seeds are coated in clay.

Clay holds in moisture to nourish the seed but also breaks apart easily to let the seed sprout.

On the way to the greenhouse, the seeds get their first watering.

Then workers set them afloat.

The pool of water is about 12 inches deep.

Technicians continuously monitor and manipulate its levels of oxygen and fertilizer.

That's the key to hydroponic growing.

The water is never discarded, just topped off to replace what the plants drink and what evaporates.

On the first day, they water the seeds frequently.

Within a couple of days, the seedlings start to appear.

They water and fertilize them.

By about the fourth day, there's some significant sprouting action.

Again, they water and fertilize the plants.

The first leaves emerge on about the seventh day in the summer, on about the 11th day in the winter.

The winter growth rate is slower because there's less sun.

At this point, it's time for the first in a series of transplants.

Workers transfer the lettuces from the 276-plant oasis to a styrofoam board that holds more plants-- 288.

They set the boards afloat in the nursery zone.

At about the 13-day mark in the summer-- the 20-day mark in the winter-- transplant number 2 takes place, this time to a less crowded styrofoam board that holds just 72 plants.

This gives the plants more light and more room to grow.

Workers use a hook to avoid damaging the roots.

A plant needs healthy roots to absorb water and nutrients.

The last transplant happens on about the 26th day in the summer, the 45th day in the winter.

Now the lettuces go from the 72-plant board to a board that holds just 18.

By now the plants have long roots, so they're harder to manipulate.

The lettuces go into the production zone, the last move before harvesting.

These pools are bigger, so automatic machines move the boards around.

This hydroponic system produces 500 plants per square yard, almost five times the yield of field-grown lettuce, and it's safer, too.

There's no need here for pesticides or fungicides, and because it's all indoors, fertilizer can't contaminate the environment.

By about the 45th day in the summer, the 75th day in the winter, the lettuces are finally ready for harvesting.

Workers cut off the yellowed leaves at the base, then either cut off the roots or wrap them around the stem, depending on how this crop will be sold.

Then they vacuum-cool each lettuce for longer shelf life.

An american engineer has invented a self-mending plastic to use for components that vibrate and weaken.

When the plastic tears, tiny capsules inside it also tear, releasing a liquid, like blood from a cut.

Then a catalyzing agent also in the plastic seals the tear like a scar.

There was a time when if you wanted to build something out of wood, you had to pick up an ax and go chop down a tree.

Thankfully for city dwellers, all it takes today is a trip to your local home-improvement center to buy 2x4's, 2x10's--  you name it.

They start with logs cut from spruce or fir trees.

Turning them into construction wood isn't that complicated.

First they soak the logs for about 20 minutes.

This removes the mud and softens the bark to make it easier to remove.

Next the logs go through the debarker, a machine with a rotor that shaves off the bark.

The rotor has six sharp blades that take just 10 seconds to shave a log bare.

In the filing room, they regularly sharpen and inspect the saw blades they'll use to cut the shaved logs, straightening them back into shape when necessary.

In this sawmill, there are two production lines.

The wider logs go through this saw.

The worker at the controls uses a laser to help him position and reposition each log as he runs it through the saw several times to cut it into as many 4x10-inch pieces as possible.

An average log usually yields about seven or eight pieces.

The narrower logs go through a different saw.

This saw first cuts a board off each side, then sends what's left of the log on to another saw.

The 4x10's on the first production line go for a second cut called the resaw.

They're cut in half into 2x10's.

The logs on the second production line end up here in what's called the canter-bull machine.

It has eight adjustable circular saws that can cut the log into various sizes of wood anywhere from 2x3's to 2x8's, depending on the log's diameter.

Both production lines feed to machines that smooth the edges and trim off any defects that can effect the strength or resistance of the wood.

Then an automated sorter drops the wood into bins according to their size.

Each bin then feeds the stacking machine.

From here they'll put the wood into a kiln to be dried to about 15% humidity.

Then they'll grade the pieces and ship them to a lumberyard or home-improvement store.

If you care about our environment, chances are you separate your recyclable waste from your other garbage and either take it to a recycling center or put it out at the curb for pickup.

But have you ever wondered where it goes from there?

When the truck arrives, your recyclables go through their first sorting.

The worker puts paper and boxes in one receptacle, glass, plastics, and metals in another.

At the sorting plant the truck dumps each receptacle into a separate area.

Then it's on to separate conveyor belts for more sorting.

On the paper-and-boxes line, workers first remove any plastic, metal, or glass that got there by mistake.

Then they sort what's left into three categories-- first, corrugated cardboard--  what brown boxes are made of-- second, newsprint, and third, mixed-fiber paper such as cereal boxes, envelopes, and greeting cards.

On the glass, metal, and plastics conveyor belt, workers first remove the big bulky items such as gallon-sized containers.

A jumbo magnet picks up everything metal except for aluminum, which isn't magnetic.

Workers then sort milk and juice cartons to one area, aluminum to another.

They separate plastics into three categories, glass into two--  clear and colored.

Once everything's been separated, each category goes into a baler, which compacts it...

Then binds it with wire like a giant bale of hay.

Then it's off to the warehouse until they're sold to a recycler.

At the recycling plant, they cut open a bale of plastics, then load everything onto the conveyor belt.

The plastics pass through magnets to remove any metal that might have slipped through.

Then it's into the shredder.

It takes the shredder just an hour to shred two tons of plastic.

All those containers are now tiny, little plastic flakes.

Next, cleaning by friction and water.

Any remaining glass or other contaminants now sink to the bottom while the lighter plastic flakes float to the top.

The dirty water will be chemically filtered and used again.

They dry the flakes by hot air, then put them into silos to be compacted.

Inside the compactor, it's 320 degrees fahrenheit.

The heat partially melts the plastic, fusing the pieces as they compact.

The flakes go through the compactor's perforated inner drum, much like a pasta press...

And come out looking a bit like macaroni.

They're now officially recycled plastic in raw-material form.

Next they're melted, pressed through a screen, then cut into pellets 1/8 inch long.

They drop into water to cool, then go into a dryer.

Factories buy these pellets and use them to make plastic products.

This recycling plant takes the plastic flakes it produces to mold warehouse pallets.

The mold goes in at 446 degrees fahrenheit for just about seven or eight minutes.

It takes just 2 1/2 minutes to mold a recycling bin...

Something to help ensure a steady supply of what the factory needs to keep producing recycled plastic.

Still moping about the one that got away?

Well, maybe you just didn't use the right fly.

Fly-fishing is one of the most challenging types of sport fishing, and tying a good fly to the end of your line can make all the difference.

In about 300 a.d., people began decorating their fishing hooks to mimic insects and small fish.

The macedonians were known to use a fishing fly made of red yarn and rooster feathers.

Today, with so many synthetic materials available, the design possibilities are endless.

But every fishing fly is still based on that centuries-old technique of attaching bird feathers or animal hairs to a hook.

The whole idea is to trick the fish.

The fly imitates an aquatic insect or tiny fish, something the fish you're trying to catch likes to eat.

The flymaker starts by placing a hook in a vise.

Using a tool called a bobbin holder, he winds a waxed nylon thread carefully and tightly around the shank of the hook...

Then cuts off the excess.

This fly will simulate a mothlike insect called a caddis, a primary food for trout-- a caddis in the pupal stage of its life cycle, just before it transforms into an adult.

The flymaker first attaches a special synthetic yarn to create the tail.

He secures it along the middle of the hook.

He then takes another synthetic material called dubbing to create the body.

He spins the dubbing between his fingers onto the thread.

The wax on the thread helps it adhere.

He winds the dubbing over the base of yarn to form the body.

Then he folds some yarn over the dubbing and attaches it with more nylon thread.

Then he cuts off the excess.

Good fishing flies not only look like the real thing, they also act like it, mimicking the insect's natural movements.

When a caddis pupa is ready to transform into an adult, it swims to the surface of the water, then deploys its wings.

The shimmering yarn on this fake caddis will give the illusion of the air bubbles this voyage to the surface creates.

To simulate the wings, the flymaker uses dubbing made of deer fur.

He cuts off the long, coarse hairs known as guard hairs...

Then places them into a device called a hair stacker.

He shakes it...

Turns it to the side...

Then opens it up.

All the hairs are now evenly aligned.

He measures the length he needs to create the fly's wings.

Then he attaches it, leaving a portion sticking out the front to form the insect's head.

Next he uses a tool called a whip finisher to tie a sturdy knot made of several loops.

This caddis fly imposter is now ready to trick some trout.

There are thousands of styles of flies.

You choose which to use according to what fish are feeding on at the moment.

Flymakers use many types of natural and synthetic dubbings to form and decorate their flies-- feathers, animal hairs, metals, and plastics often dyed brilliant colors.

Tying a great fly won't always snag you the catch of the day, but if you maneuver the fly to make realistic movements in the water, the fish will buy it--  hook, line, and sinker.