Dress Forms
Boat Propellers
Duvets
Faucets

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

Dress forms...

Boat propellers...

Duvets...

And faucets.

When it comes to dressmaking, a dummy can be a lot of help.

These dummies are known as dress forms, and they're full-scale reproductions of the human body.

They give seamstresses a form on which to solve fitting problems.

They're also used to showcase outfits in storefronts where they can look pretty smart all dressed up.

For centuries, the fashion industry has relied on dummies to act as stand-ins so clients don't have to endure lengthy fittings.

Sometimes, a form is even custom-made as the client's exact body double.

To make one of these forms, a worker starts by soaking cardboard in water.

It's strong and porous, so it can absorb a lot of water without falling apart.

He positions the back half of a plaster body mold, then rips a soaked cardboard sheet in two.

He dips his gloved hand in paste and slathers it on the cardboard.

This paste is a combination of plaster and tacky glue.

Then, in a process called feathering, he makes a series of tears along the edge of the cardboard.

Next, the glue-coated cardboard is pressed into the shape of the body mold, building up several layers.

Some pieces are arranged lengthwise and others horizontally for a tight interweave.

Overlapping the feathered edges helps to interlock them, and a few taps with a hammer makes them level.

The worker lifts a few of the feathered edges...

Then joins the front of the body to the back.

The cardboard forms fit loosely on top of one another.

It takes even more paste to seal them together.

The worker manipulates the end of a paste-covered tool inside the cavity, overlapping loose layers with adhesive.

Finally, he opens the mold to reveal the shape.

This dummy is a size 12.

After 24 hours of drying in the open air, the form goes into an oven where it bakes at 350 degrees for 8 hours.

This causes the moisture to evaporate from the form, hardening it.

A worker scrapes off all the rough bits with a rasp...

Then sands it smooth.

Another worker draws lines on the form with a pencil.

He'll use these marks as guides as he cuts into the dress form to make the shoulders collapsible.

He carves out slots on each side of the form, then peels back layers on either side of the slots.

This allows him to install hinges level to the form so they won't protrude and ruin a fitting job.

The dress form then undergoes some major surgery.

A worker slices open both shoulders, but leaves them attached to the rest of the form by the hinges.

He makes sure they function smoothly...

Then trims the dress form along the incisions.

This will allow the shoulders to be collapsed into the form, a feature that makes it easier to pull a garment on and off.

This piece of pliable steel is a spring for a mechanism that locks the collapsed shoulders in position.

Along with the rest of the locking mechanism, it's attached to wooden supports in each shoulder.

The dress form is now covered in layers of jersey and linen.

These pins will serve as reference points for the seamstress.

Another worker then washes the dummy with a sponge, shrinking the fabric to the form.

The dress form gets the stamp of approval.

A worker then gives the headless body a metal collar...

And caps it off with a gold-colored finial.

And now you have a body shape that's made to measure.

When we return, we'll take you up to speed at a boat propeller factory.

Boat propellers were invented in the early 19th century, and they've been making waves ever since.

These propellers rotate in a screwlike fashion, drawing water in and pushing it out to move the boat across the water.

With a steel propeller, you can zip across the lake in a flash and make a real splash.

Production begins with wax pellets, which are melted until they're the consistency of toothpaste.

Nearby, a mold of a boat propeller closes, and the thick wax is injected into it.

It takes about a minute for the wax to cool into the propeller shape, which will serve as a pattern for the metal prop.

A shot of compressed air helps extract a wax funnel from its mold.

It's called the pour cup.

We'll find out what's poured into it later on.

After a cast shape is wiped down, its flat end is softened on a burner and joined to the glue-coated end of the pour cup.

Workers dip the attached pieces into hot wax to fill any gaps in the joint.

A quick wash and rinse gets rid of any oily residues left behind.

Here, a robot submerges a rack of propellers in a special solution that gives them a nonstick coating.

Then it's over to a tank containing a mix of silica sand and water.

The robot dips the wax propellers several times, then plunges them into various ceramic-based concoctions.

After each dipping, the propellers go into a machine that showers them with sand.

Then they dry under fans.

The process of dipping and sand bathing builds up a hard ceramic shell around the wax.

Workers load the propellers into a pressurized oven called an autoclave, where the wax melts away, leaving only the ceramic shells.

Those shells are then fired in big ovens, the way potters bake ceramics to strengthen them.

Nearby, molten steel is bubbling, heated to the melting point by electrical induction coils.

A worker takes a ceramic propeller shell out of the oven, then the searing steel is poured into it through the pour cup.

The steel immediately begins to cool, causing cracks in the ceramic shell.

Any remaining bits of ceramic are knocked off with a metal rod.

Now it's time to get rid of the pour cup, which has already served its purpose.

They grind the edges to smooth them.

Then a more intensive grinding removes any corrosion on the surface.

Talk about putting your shoulder to the grindstone-- this process takes skill and strength.

The propellers are lowered into a series of vibrating polishers.

The friction from these pulsating cones smooths out the grind lines on the propellers and adds shine.

Finally, each propeller gets the once-over from a laser that measures the blades from all angles.

It sends the information to a computer which compares it to the specifications.

If it checks out, the propeller will be on its way to a waterway, ready to launch.

Up next...

Getting down on the duvet production line.

"down" is the term for belly feathers of waterfowl, primarily ducks and geese.

Made from interlocking fibers that create micro-size air pockets, down works something like a scuba diver's wet suit.

The bird's body heat warms the trapped air, and the warm air then insulates the bird against the cold water.

Regular feathers have a central stem from which the fibers emanate.

Down is more lightweight, and its fibers are in clusters.

Bags of plumage from waterfowl farms arrive at the feather-and-down processing factory.

The first step is to separate the down from the feathers.

A vacuum hose sucks everything up into a sorting machine that has four air chambers side by side.

In the first one, the air blows everything upward.

The heaviest feathers rise just partway, while the lighter plumage floats through an opening into the next chamber.

Same air-sorting process there-- heaviest stays, lighter moves on.

This continues until there's only pure down in the fourth and final chamber.

A vacuum hose then transfers the down to the cleaning machines.

First, agitation and suction remove any dirt trapped inside the fibers.

Then a 13-cycle, hot-water wash with soap kills bacteria.

A degreaser strips the natural oils that coat the down fibers, and the last rinse cycle applies an antibacterial, antifungal treatment.

The next machine spins the down to remove the water.

When the down comes out, it's still a bit damp.

A robotic machine called the picker gathers small batches at a time and loads them into a steam dryer.

After processing, the factory's lab tests a sample from each batch for cleanliness.

Technicians also evaluate "loft," the technical term for filling power.

The higher the loft, the better the down will insulate.

They measure how much space the sample fills.

If the down meets specifications, the factory bags the batch for shipping to the duvet factory.

First stop there--  a holding tank.

A programmable filling machine extracts a specific amount of down and transfers it to a canister.

Next, a worker shoots the canister's contents in a duvet's fabric shell.

To keep the down evenly distributed throughout the duvet, the shell is sewn into sections called boxes.

Emptying one tube at a time, they fill one box at a time.

Air pressure piles all the down at one end of the box, but it'll get spread out later in the process.

The open ends of each row are temporarily closed with a plastic clip.

Then, when all the boxes are filled, it's off to the sewing department.

There, seamstresses stitch the open ends closed and sew on labels and washing instructions.

A light table allows them to see the down within each box.

Then they spread it out evenly using, of all things, badminton rackets.

The 100%-cotton shell has gone through a high-pressure treatment to fuse its fibers so that no down can poke through.

The factory also stuffs bedding items with feathers.

Back at the processing factory, feathers go through the same post-washing tests as the down.

To measure cleanliness, lab technicians soak a sample from each batch in distilled water.

Then they strain the water...

Mix it with sulfuric acid...

And add a potassium compound.

They analyze the color of the liquid to gauge its oxygen content.

If the oxygen level's under 10, the feathers are clean enough to ship to the duvet factory.

There, the feather-filling process is just like the down-filling process, only with bigger canisters and blowing nozzles to accommodate the larger feathers and larger fabric shells.

Feathers are heavier than down and have less insulating power, but they're more affordable.

Down is only found on the bird's belly, and that scarcity makes it expensive.

That explains why high-end bedding contains 100% down, while the rest contains either a down-and-feather mix or feathers alone.

But when it comes to getting a cozy night's sleep, there's no "downside" to any of those options.

Coming up...

A production line where they know how to go with the flow.

Faucets were actually invented by the ancient romans.

But when their empire collapsed, so did their water and sewer systems.

It took many centuries for running water to make a comeback and for water to become available on tap.

Today, faucets are an indispensable part of our daily lives.

Modern faucets come in many different designs, but inside, they all have the same basic components.

Workers start by setting a brass spout tube on a revolving support.

An automated dispenser applies silver solder to the inside rim of the spout.

They press a threaded tip into the spout, then dip the other end of the tube in flux paste, which cleans the brass and prevents tarnishing.

The tubes are set against brass hubs.

Then torches liquefy the solder, which flows into the joint, sealing the tube to the hub.

The threaded tip is soldered in turn.

A carriage now moves the faucet spouts against buffing wheels coated with polishing compound for a mirror finish.

A wheel with an abrasive surface gives that finish a brush texture.

The faucet spouts are dipped in an acid bath laced with dissolved nickel.

The application of an electric current draws the dissolved nickel onto the brass spouts, plating them with a thin, even layer.

Next, the faucet spouts and other parts are loaded into a special chamber.

Inside, an electron beam flashes like lightning as it spirals around the zirconium rod.

This causes the zirconium to vaporize.

The vapors mix with gases being pumped into the chamber and bond to the faucet for a final finish that's virtually indestructible.

The other parts of the faucets get the same treatment.

Meanwhile, a blade slices a solid-brass rod into smaller pieces.

A variety of cutting tools machine the brass lump to make a faucet body.

It will house a ball valve that controls the volume and temperature of the water.

A jaw grabs the other end of the brass body to position it for more drilling.

Several tools carve out holes that will act as waterways.

The waste brass gets recycled.

That piece of solid brass has now been transformed into a pivotal piece for the faucet, the valve body.

With copper tubes and brass fittings now attached, the faucet slides into the baseplate.

That's the plate that sits on the sink deck.

Working from underneath, it's fastened with screws.

Next, a robot puts one-half of a stainless-steel ball in a spinning vice, which orients it so an automated welder can join it to the other half.

The ball's openings align with hot and cold inlets in the faucet body to regulate the flow of water into the spout.

Rubber seals are inserted into those inlet holes in the faucet body.

Rubber o-rings on the body will both form a seal and allow the spout to swivel.

In goes the ball valve.

Then a rubber seal caps it off.

The aerator is screwed onto the spout, and pneumatic driver tightens it down.

The spout assembly is secured to the rest of the faucet with a metal bonnet.

Now it's time to see how this faucet functions.

An inspector connects it to a pressurized water source for a test run.

Finally, the handle is attached to the rest of the faucet, and it's ready to ship out.

Included in the box are the spray hose and support system, which will be installed on-site.

It takes a day or two to build one of these faucets.

But it will be on clean-up duty for many years to come.


Olive Oil
Lift Trucks
Seamless Rolled Rings
Ski Boots

The ancient greek poet homer called olive oil "liquid gold," and today a little drizzle can still dazzle.

Like fine wine, premium olive oil can bring a complexity of flavors to the table and create flavors to the table and create a real taste sensation.

A real taste sensation.

The roots of the olive tree stretch far into the past.

For thousands of years, people have harvested its fruit and crushed it with stone to extract the precious yellow oil.

In those early days, olive oil wasn't just used in food, it fueled lamps and was a medicinal ointment.

Today's thriving olive groves are living proof that our appetite for olive oil hasn't waned.

When green olives turn a violet red, they're ripe and ready for harvest.

Workers shake the olives off the workers shake the olives off the branches with vibrating rakes.

Branches with vibrating rakes.

The olives fall onto nets spread the olives fall onto nets spread beneath the trees.

Beneath the trees.

They funnel the harvested olives into the factory.

They fall down a chute into a large vat of pure water.

A hose suctions the olives and water into a vibrating bin.

It separates out leaves and twigs as the water drains away.

The cleaned olives now bounce merrily on their way toward the crusher.

A few centuries ago, the crusher was a donkey-powered apparatus.

Today, a motor drives 1,300-pound granite wheels to grind the olives, pits and all, grind the olives, pits and all, into a paste.

Into a paste.

Once the paste reaches the desired consistency, it's over to a computerized system that regulates the temperature of the paste as an auger mixes it.

This separates the oil from the paste, making it easier to extract with this machine.

Traditional extracting techniques involve spreading the paste on mats and then stacking them to press out the oil.

This system is more high-tech.

Rows of metal plates dip into the paste and the oil adheres to them.

A spin in a centrifuge separates the residual paste from the oil.

Oil.

The result is virgin olive oil.

The result is virgin olive oil.

A sample of every batch goes to the testing room where there's a guy who has a nose for the job.

He inhales the olive oil's aroma.

Like a glass of fine wine, it should have a certain bouquet and should taste intensely fruity.

If the olive oil makes the grade with this tester, the entire batch is ready for packaging.

The packaging process is entirely automated, ensuring it's all done hygienically.

A conveyor funnels these tins into line for a filling.

A mechanized system then feeds the olive oil directly from big tanks into the tins.

A measuring device controls the amount that goes into each one.

At the next station, equipment spins and curls a metal disk around the lip of the container to put the bottom on the can.

The conveyor flips the can around so it lands right side up, ready to pack.

They package the premium-grade oil in bottles.

They use dark glass to protect the oil from the sun's ultraviolet light, which could cause olive oil to degrade and lose intensity.

After an automated fill up, they cap the threaded necks of the bottles.

Machinery press-fits and then screws the caps on for an airtight seal.

Equipment then glues and applies the labels to the bottles.

Preserved and protected, this olive oil is now on its way to the store shelf and ultimately to the table, where it's sure to the table, where it's sure to kick up the flavor factor.

To kick up the flavor factor.

The development of the forklift truck in britain early in the last century was an uplifting event.

It was during the first world war, and much of the country's male workforce was on the battle front, so the forklift literally picked up where they left off to keep the economy moving on the home front.

The modern forklift has quite an extensive reach.

That's because warehouses today expand up rather than out to stack more into a given space.

Production starts with this welding robot.

The robot uses computer smarts to fuse steel parts together to produce the truck body.

Humans take over to weld together rails for the lift system's mainframe.

After a sleek paint job, the truck body is ready for the mechanics.

An emergency switch goes on the front.

It will allow the forklift operator to quickly cut the engine's power.

Then they assemble the lift's hydraulic system, beginning with the tank that holds the hydraulic fluid.

They hook it up to the pump that provides the required pressure.

They wire the pump so they can later connect it to the forklift's battery.

They nudge the pump into its permanent position and bolt it to the floor of the truck.

Wiring for the lights, horn, and lift sensors comes next.

Then they slide a foot pedal into place.

It both activates and brakes the forklift truck.

At seven horsepower, this engine may seem small, but it's enough to move the truck and a load of 2.2 tons safely.

They check the oil and install a bracket for the vehicle control bracket for the vehicle control handle.

Handle.

The handle is then connected to a computerized system that operates both the vehicle and its hydraulic lift.

They slide the steering wheel onto a shaft and make sure it's solidly attached.

Production then hits a turning point as they power up the motor and check the steering wheel installation.

They flush filtered oil through the hydraulic system that powers the lift.

It's a cleansing process to ensure no dirt can compromise the hydraulics.

They test the computerized controls for the lift and motor.

With the hydraulic cylinders installed, they grease the mainframe above them.

This makes it easier to slide the inner rails onto the frame, and later, the grease will also improve the function of this hydraulic lift.

They thread chains through the mainframe and its inner rails.

These chains will work in conjunction with lift cylinders to elevate the load.

They roll the forklift's carriage along grooves in the rail system.

It's this carriage to which the forks and other attachments will be mounted.

A special machine now maneuvers the lift into an upright position.

Then they wheel in the completed truck.

They call this a marriage because the truck and lift are getting hitched.

They bolt the two subassemblies together from the inside of the empty battery compartment.

They then temporarily connect the forklift to a battery in order to move it down the line.

It's time for the forklift to undergo a little corporate branding with these company decals.

They engrave a serial number onto a metal plate.

It identifies the forklift for warranty purposes.

They put a cover on the truck, and this forklift is ready to go to work.

The forks and the battery will be installed on the worksite because they're often specific to the job.

But one thing's for certain-- this forklift is sure to carry a this forklift is sure to carry a lot of weight in the workplace.

Lot of weight in the workplace.

Seamless rolled rings keep a lot of things running in our world, so we thought it was time to recognize their contribution.

These wheels of steel are essential components of engines, power generators, and industrial machinery, to name just a few things.

And you could say they keep things operating seamlessly.

Seamless rolled rings are at the center of the action in a lot of machinery such as bearings, gears, and connectors.

A seamless rolled ring starts with one of these solid steel billets.

A powerful magnet moves them into a queue for production.

A saw with carbide-tipped teeth cuts the billet into smaller chunks.

A hydraulically powered claw then takes the cut piece to a furnace fired to 1,260 degrees celsius.

That's hot enough to soften the steel for forging but below its melting point.

The steel turns bright yellow, which indicates that it's ready to be removed.

The operator places it in a chamber where chains batter the ends to break off scale formed by the searing heat of the furnace.

The claw then transfers it to an 1,100-ton press.

It squashes the steel slightly, causing the scale on the sides to crack and break off.

To crack and break off.

Then it's over to a die.

Then it's over to a die.

A worker places a bit of coal in the center of the hot steel chunk.

The coal catches, generating a powder that lubricates the action of a 2,800-ton punch.

The punch pierces the center of the steel and pushes it against the walls of the die, transforming the steel chunk into a doughnut.

30 feet away, the operator controls the gripper to lift out the doughnut.

He then reactivates the punch to knock out the last bit of metal in the center hole.

By now, the steel has cooled down quite a bit, so it's into another furnace to bring it back to forging temperature.

Once it's yellow hot, this steel doughnut is ready to be transformed into a ring.

A mandrel pokes up through the center.

It stabilizes the doughnut as a conveyor slides it into position for ring rolling.

The doughnut rotates, and rollers press against it to shape it into a thin, wide ring.

Cone-shaped tools above and below also spin against it to establish the desired height.

The hot steel is easily manipulated by the tools and stretches like putty.

This process turns the doughnut into a ring, and that's why they call this ring rolling.

The change is truly dramatic.

A worker stamps a serial number onto the rim.

Next, a tool drags the ring onto a conveyor which takes it to a stacking device.

The rings cool from yellow to orange.

Soon, they'll be completely cooled and ready to head into another furnace, this time for heat treating.

This tempering process relieves the stresses in the steel caused by all that rolling and forging.

This makes the steel stronger and more resilient.

Once this ring has been cooled and hardened, they position it on a turntable, relying on a special gauge to let them know special gauge to let them know it's on the mark.

It's on the mark.

The ring revolves as a tool peels off that sooty-looking crust to reveal the glossy substructure.

And they give the interior of some rings the same treatment.

Now these steel rings are ready to take their place as components in heavy equipment, power plants, and even train wheels because when it comes to their capabilities, they're their capabilities, they're definitely well-rounded.

Definitely well-rounded.

In a sport with steep challenges, proper footwear is a must.

Early ski boots were made of leather, but when molded plastic boots came along in the late 1960s, they offered a big advantage-- stiffness.

Stiffer boots meant better control, and when you're heading downhill fast, control is definitely a good thing.

The modern ski boot transfers the body's movements effectively to the skis, and a little high tech can't hurt when you're trying to take your skiing skills to new heights.

Transforming these plastic chips into a high-tech ski boot takes some planning.

They design the boot on a computer and simulate the process of the chips being melted and molded into the shape.

Like in the computer model, it will take just seconds to turn the chips into the outer shell of the ski boot.

Machinery lowers boot forms into molds which clamp together with a force of up to 550 tons.

Pumps then inject the melted chips into the space between the molds and the forms.

The plastic hardens instantly, and robotic arms pull the new ski-boot shells off the forms.

Two different plastics have been used to give these shells specific performance characteristics.

Equipment now stamps the brand name and graphics onto the shell.

The assembler rivets rubber protectors to the sole of the boot.

They'll interface with the ski's bindings.

They'll also provide tread to make the boot safer to walk around in during those ski breaks.

This ski-boot shell is now ready for some buckles.

Their location has been mapped out during molding with little indentations.

The indentations guide the assembler as she rivets the buckles to the boots.

Meanwhile, another worker focuses on the boot's plastic cuff.

It's fresh out of the mold, so he trims the edges to ensure they're perfectly smooth.

He installs a reflector on the inside to locate the skier in the event of an avalanche.

This feature is found on high-end models.

He attaches a long strap to the back.

It's for adjusting the boot's fit around the skier's calf and shin.

Now they're ready to attach the cuff to the shell.

The fastener is adjustable to align the cuff with the shape of the skier's leg.

This adjustment is called canting.

With the outer boot now complete, production moves to the liner.

A technician loads the patterns into a computerized fabric cutter, arranging them to minimize waste.

The computer-guided blade goes to work and cuts out the shapes.

They use a combination of synthetic fabrics to help the boot liner insulate the skier's foot against cold and humidity.

After sewing the outer part together, they glue two layers to it.

The outside fabric and inner padding are polyurethane material and the inner layer is polyester.

This special device presses the glued fabrics together and shapes them.

Then it's over to the sewing department where the glued seams are stitched.

They add the sole and finish it off with a waterproof fabric.

It has a special weave that keeps the liner from sliding around in the boot.

Mechanical arms now hold open the boot as the assembler slides the boot as the assembler slides a liner into it.

A liner into it.

Once the liner is installed, this ski boot is on its way to the sporting-goods store, and, the sporting-goods store, and, inevitably, to higher ground.

Inevitably, to higher ground.

The manufacturing process has taken about an hour.

And these boots should be good for years of plunging through for years of plunging through powder and mogul maneuvering.

Powder and mogul maneuvering.


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

When it comes to iconic hats, nothing says french more than the beret, specifically the basque-style beret, as people wear different styles in other countries.

The basque beret was traditionally worn by shepherds tending their flocks along the pyrenees mountain range that divides southern france from spain.

The basque beret dates back to the 1600s in southern france.

Made of black merino wool, it has a little cabillou on top.

The factory making these berets has been doing so since 1840.

An automated machine knits undyed wood yarn into a galette, the french word for pancake.

The galette is flat and round with loose knit stitches making it soft and floppy.

A worker then pulls the galette's central thread, closing it into a circular shape resembling a shower cap.

In an industrial size washing machine, a worker washes this rudimentary beret in lukewarm water from the local river and soap for about 8 hours.

The type of soap is a trade secret.

The wool shrinks, causing the loose knit stitches to tighten.

The wool fibers also soften, transforming into the smooth and soft wool and fabric we call felt.

After felting the beret, the manufacturers begin the dyeing process.

The worker loads it into another washing machine, only this time with powdered dye.

This factory has always produced its own dyes in a wide range of colors, again using water from the local river.

However, the temperature to which this company heats it is a closely guarded secret.

When the dye cycle finishes, another worker checks the beret against a color sample because the wool composition and the river water quality are variable factors that can affect dye absorption.

The next step is to form the beret to the final shape.

Traditionally, beret factories did this using wooden forms, but today, they use metal ones.

The beret remains on the form long enough to lock in the shape.

This process, too, depends on the wool composition as well as on how humid it is in the factory on that particular day.

Each beret goes for a spin on the scratching machine, a rotating wheel surfaced with wire brushes.

The bristles lift the wood fibers, thickening the felt.

After inserting a cardboard template to maintain the shape, a worker uses a manual shearing tool to carefully scratch the area around the cabillou.

She removes any clinging plant debris left by the river water used in the wash and dye cycles.

Then she inspects for any holes or stretched fibers.

The beret now goes to the seamstress.

First, she heats a black cotton lining on a mold to shape it to fit perfectly inside the beret.

The lining has the manufacturer's label in the center, which features the company crest and the model name, vrai basque, confirming that this is indeed an authentic basque-style beret.

She turns the beret inside out to sew in the lining.

Then she turns the beret right side out again and puts it on a stretching machine.

She sets the machine to the desired hat size, and it automatically stretches the beret to that size.

Now, she sews a black leather band to the edge.

The hat size is printed on it.

Some models feature a color trim on the band.

The finishing touch is the company's metal hallmark.

She rivets it to the underside of the beret on one side...

And that caps off production.

Pastis is an anise-flavored liqueur popular in france, particularly in the southern city of marseilles where it originated.

You don't drink it straight, though.

The proper technique is to dilute it with water, typically 5 to 7 parts water to one part pastis.

Then add ice.

The maker of this pastis combines star anise with licorice extract and herbs and spices from the provence region of france.

Star anise is an asian spice.

The starting ingredient for this pastis is a pale yellow star anise essential oil purchased from a chinese supplier.

The first step at this french distillery is to distill that essential oil.

As the oil is heated, it evaporates and rises up the column still, passing through a series of stacking cooling trays.

Each tray condenses, then removes one of the oil's various components.

Pastis requires just one of the extracted components-- anethole, which is an organic compound responsible for the anise flavor and smell.

This pastis recipe also contains 60 different herbs and spices, each of which is separately distilled into alcohol.

One of these herbs is artemisia vulgaris, commonly known as mugwort.

A worker loads mugwort leaves into a tank filled with a mixture of water and alcohol.

As the leaves soak, the alcohol acts as a solvent, extracting the aromatic molecules.

This process is called maceration.

After a few days, workers drain the alcoholic liquid, now infused with aromatic molecules.

It's so alcoholic that it emits volatile fumes, so workers wear an alarm that goes off when the surrounding air reaches an explosive level.

The liquid is stored in a vat until it's time to mix the pastis.

Then, a worker removes the alcohol-soaked mugwort leaves from the tank and transfer them to a distillation device called an alembic.

The alembic heats the mash of fermented leaves with steam produced by a wood-fired boiler.

Once the mash heats to a temperature of 172 degrees fahrenheit, the alcohol in it begins to evaporate and rise.

The alcoholic vapor eventually reaches the neck of the alembic, where cooling coils condense it into liquid, which then flows out of the alembic and through a filter that also removes plant particles.

An alcoholometer measures the percentage of alcohol, which starts off very high, then tapers off.

The pastis maker uses only the middle of the flow, when the reading is between 70 and 50%, what's known as the heart of the distillation.

To make the pastis, workers combine all the ingredients.

The anethole, distilled from the anise essential oil, the 60 different maceration liquids and distillates of herbs and spices and licorice extract.

Workers also add water to dilute the final product's alcohol level to 45%.

A last filtration removes any particles that would diminish the clarity of the pastis.

A machine bottles the pastis in dark glass to protect the contents from light, which, by oxidation, would damage the liqueur.

The second station on the filling line seals each bottle with a t-cork, a type of stopper designed for bottles which are opened and sealed repeatedly.

The next station applies a sheath of heat shrink plastic over the t-cork.

The bottle then travels through a heating tunnel, which shrinks the plastic tightly over the neck of the bottle.

The final station applies the adhesive-backed label.

Pastis is always poured into the glass first, followed by water.

This makes the liqueur cloudy because the anethole doesn't dissolve in water.

If you want to add ice, you can do so only after the water, otherwise, the anethole crystallizes.

So just remember that chemistry lesson and enjoy.

The first stationary bike was developed by a london physician in the late 18th century to exercise the joints of patients suffering from gout, rheumatic disorders, or other afflictions.

The modern stationary bike is all about helping people stay fit to prevent illnesses.

On this stationary bike, magnets linked to the flywheel create tension that causes the cyclist to push harder, making the workout truly an uphill battle.

Production starts with steel tubing for the base.

A probe locates the center of the tubing.

This reference point allows a computerized laser cutter to find the exact spots to cut assembly holes.

With the assembly holes cut, the laser slices the tubing to the correct length.

An automated system retrieves the part and transfers it to a holding area.

A worker inserts screws in the base part, which will attach it to the main frame.

He pipes sealant around the screws.

Another worker now arranges the three tubular base parts in a welding fixture and clamps them in place.

The fixture revolves and meets up with a robotic welder.

The robot welds the three parts together.

This completes the base of the stationary bike.

The bike's main frame has been configured on the other side of the welding fixture.

The robot welds these parts together.

The fixture rotates to serve up another base assembly to the robot, and the worker collects the welded main frame from the reverse side.

He grinds the welded seam smooth and gets rid of burrs on the steel.

Workers sandblast the metal, wash it, and apply primer.

After grounding the main frame, another worker sprays electrostatically charged resin and pigment onto it.

Once it's baked on, this powder coat will provide a protective finish.

At another station, a 55-ton press punches holes into posts for the bike's handlebar and seat.

The holes are for adjusting the height of these parts.

Next up is the casting for mounting the handlebar to the post.

Using another press, the worker entrenches the top of the post in the casting.

He taps the casting with a rubber mallet to tweak the installation and sets the assembly aside.

At another station, a worker arranges numerous seat posts in tight alignment.

He drapes a stencil of sequential lettering on top of the posts.

He dips an etching wand in a chemical solution and then moves it over the letters five times.

This burns the letters into the steel, providing markers for height adjustment.

An assembler drives the wedge into one of the bike's two crank arms to create a hole that the axle will fit into.

He checks the depth of the hole with a gauge.

He inserts the end of the axle in the hole and using a press, pushes it into place.

He measures the hole from the other side of the crank arm and confirms that the axle has been set to the correct depth.

He then bolts the assembly to a precise torque.

He locks the crank arm assembly in a lathe.

He slips a foam sleeve over the axle to protect it from shards of flying metal as a tool machines the part of the crank arm that will ultimately hold the bike's pulley.

Another member of the team now assembles bearings to a wheel hub.

He slides two bearings with a spacer in a press.

He heats the hub in an oven, causing the metal to expand.

The machine presses the hub sandwich together.

As the hub cools, it shrinks for a tight fit to the bearings.

He installs a retaining clip in the hub to also keep it together.

Next up are the holders for the magnets that create resistance on the flywheel.

A worker places each one in a fixture to inspect the dimensions.

He then checks the strength of the magnets in a tester, and satisfied, he inserts two in each holder.

This metal cage, pulled into position by the magnets, completes the magnetic field.

Stay tuned for more on the making of this stationary bike.

Stationary bikes are equipped with resistance mechanisms.

They can be simple tension belts or more complex systems in which magnets produce an electrical current in the flywheel.

The indoor cyclist simply dials up the resistance, and he or she will soon feel the burn.

The assembler installs the magnetic resistance unit so that it swings from a bracket on the main frame.

This bracket also holds the computer board.

He mounts the aluminum flywheel to the axle, sliding it between the magnets and the tension device.

He caps the flywheel hub and secures the cap with screws.

The torsion spring-equipped cover completes the stationary bike's tension system.

He assembles the crank arm and axle to the bike and installs a bearing.

Then the bike moves on to the next station.

Another worker places an alignment tool on the back axle.

He loops an elastic belt with grooves around the small pulley on the flywheel and around the larger crank arm pulley, linking the two.

He inserts another tool into the crank arm and turns it to better wrap the belt around the large crank pulley.

He then removes both installation tools.

He installs four flat bushings in the handlebar post.

These bushings make it possible for the handlebar to be raised and lowered.

He applies a decal with the height indicators.

Made of a rugged synthetic material, the decal encases three sides of the metal post, and this protects it from abrasion.

He bolts the second crank arm to the axle and torques it to the specified tension.

Next up is the seat assembly.

He slides the seat stem into the post and tightens the adjustment knob to lock it in place.

He inserts the handlebar post into the bike frame and fishes the gear cable and communication wires through it.

He secures the handlebar post with the adjustment knob.

He connects the communication line to the resistance system's computer board.

He links the gear cable to the resistance system and tests its functionality.

Satisfied, he tightens a nut at the side to secure the cable.

Another worker installs a plastic cover on the drivetrain.

This will protect the cyclist's legs from the pulley system and shield the metal components from human sweat.

For added moisture protection, she applies sealer around a welded reinforcement on the bike frame.

She then encases the fork of the bike with more molded plastic.

Bolts secure the casings to the bike.

She now places a magnetized microphone on the axle and spins the flywheel at a high rpm.

This is a test.

The bike must operate noiselessly.

And the decibel meter confirms the noise level is negligible.

She also feels the frame for unwanted vibrations.

She now sets the location of the magnetic resistance mechanism using a special tool.

This calibrates the resistance so that they handlebar computer can find it and display the resistance setting during cycling.

Another member of the team then applies thread-locking adhesive to the screw holes in the crank arms.

He screws the pedals tightly to the crank arms and torques them to a specific setting.

The worker aligns the four bolt holes on the frame to the bolts on the base and secures them with cap nuts.

He installs a metal guard that encircles most of the flywheel.

This prevents contact with the edge of the wheel when it's spinning.

Once the trip computer has been mounted to the top of the frame, he slides the handlebar into place.

It takes about 2 hours to manufacture this stationary bike.

Now that the work is done, the workout can begin.


Tin Whistles
Horn Products
Formula F Race Cars

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

The distinctive sound of the tin whistle is characteristic of the traditional music of england, ireland, and scotland.

When this flute was first manufactured in the mid-19th century, it sold for just a penny, making it affordable and earning its nickname "the penny whistle".

This u.k. company was the first factory to make tin whistles.

In 1843, the company produced whistles using tinplate-- that's tin-coated steel--  from british metal foundries.

A press strikes each sheet with a dye 20 times, stamping out 20 flat shapes called blanks.

Each blank contains six finger holes toward the bottom and a rectangular opening called a fipple near the top.

A technician inserts one blank at a time into a custom-made mandrel, then turns the crank.

The mandrel rolls the flat blank into a tube.

While some tin whistles are straight, this company's tin whistles are tapered.

The signature shape creates a distinctive sound.

Next, a technician slides four tubes into tapered slots on a custom-built jig.

The slots align the tube's edges, creating a seam that will prevent air blown into the instrument from leaking out.

The seam is coated in a chemical called flux.

Without it, solder wire won't adhere to the tinplate.

Using a custom-designed soldering gun, the technician melts lead-free solder wire onto the edges, fusing them together.

The flux and solder are both nontoxic since they're being used on an instrument that goes into the mouth.

A worker washes the tin whistles in mild soap and water to remove any excess flux.

Another technician uses a custom-made file to scrape off any excess solder and ensure the seam is smooth.

Then he shapes the top end of the tin whistle with this custom-made squaring tool.

The round top of the instrument is now square.

The tin whistles are sent to the factory's paint shop.

An operator hooks the whistles onto a track that moves through a paint chamber.

Inside, automated nozzles spray the instruments with powder paint.

Then the tin whistles head to an oven, which bakes the paint for 20 minutes, at a temperature of 255 degrees fahrenheit.

As each instrument exits the oven, the operator inspects the paint job.

A pad printer spreads gold ink into the engraved company logo and design.

The pad picks up the ink, and stamps the logo and design on the instrument.

To create the narrow air channel that produces sound, a wooden plug is created and placed above the mouthpiece, or fipple.

The plug is made from cedar or beechwood.

This type of wood contains closed grains that prevent swelling.

After pieces of wood are cut to the required shape, a tin whistle tuner applies a water-based, nontoxic adhesive inside the top of the instrument.

Then he takes a plug, sands the cut edge, and glues it into the top.

Once he's completed sanding, the whistle specialist tunes the tin whistle by inserting a sizing tool in the gap between the tinplate and the plug.

He gently hammers the tinplate against the plug and tool.

This step adjusts the air channel to the required width, perfectly tuning the instrument.

After tuning 50 or so tin whistles, he performs a musical spot-check.

Once the adhesive has cured for 24 hours, the tin whistle is ready for packaging.

After the instrument has been cleaned, a technician includes a fingering chart and a sheet of tunes in the package so that beginners can teach themselves how to play.

The tin whistle comes in the key of c and d. the musical landscapes of jigs, reels, highland flings, and other traditional melodies of the british isles.

Animal horns are made from meat-industry by-products.

They can be shaped and cut easily, while remaining incredibly durable.

In the 20th century, synthetic plastics largely replaced horn, but today, it's making a comeback as an all-natural biodegradable material.

In 1749, this manufacturer made inexpensive utensils for people on a tight budget.

Two and a half centuries later, horn products are desirable luxury items.

This facility sources its horns from nigeria where ankole cattle are known for their long, magnificent horns.

A craftsman cuts the horns on a band saw.

Horn is formed from keratin, the same material in hair and nails.

Even though it's hard, woodworking tools can easily cut and shape the horn.

The horn is also biodegradable.

The craftsman uses a sanding disk to shape the edges.

This particular horn will become a drinking mug.

Horn is thermoplastic.

It can be shaped when heated and will retain its new shape when cooled.

An artisan heats a thin section and bends the tip.

He heats the base of the thin section over an open flame and then carefully folds it over to form a perfect handle for the mug.

The craftsman puts the mug into a vice to ensures that the handle will retain its new shape once cooled.

In just a few steps, this cattle horn has been transformed into a unique mug-shaped object.

Now the mug needs a bottom.

A technician glues a set of mugs to wooden planks and then pours in a food-safe resin to form a watertight seal.

It takes 24 hours for the resin to cure.

Once cured, a craftsman uses a band saw to separate the mugs.

Then he trims the wood until there's only a small amount left around the edges.

The sanding disk easily removes the excess until the wood is even with the horn.

A specialized wheel with sandpaper edges smoothes hard-to-reach areas of the mug.

A craftsman sands and polishes each mug thoroughly until they shine.

For constructing other types of products, this facility uses a deep fryer to heat sections of horn in 392-degree cooking oil.

A hydraulic press flattens the heated material by applying pressure, then it's set aside to cool.

After 10 minutes, the horn will retain its new shape, which is called a plate.

Flat horn plate is used to make a variety of products.

Here, a cutting form stamps out spoons.

Artisans use a sanding disk to refine the spoon's shape.

Another press hollows out the end of the spoon.

Horn is a naturally non-stick material that won't absorb odor or color from food.

Beside their many other products, this facility also manufactures shoehorns.

Shoehorns get their name from the horn material used to make them.

A sanding disk is used to shape the horn.

It takes artisans years to develop this particular set of skills.

The horn, which has been straightened in a specialized press is now ready for the final phase.

A craftsman refines the shape of the horn by using a specialized tool, equipped with a narrow belt of sandpaper he smoothes the inner curve of the shoehorn by pressing on the sandpaper belt.

This operation requires a high degree of concentration and skill.

Too much pressure will remove more of the horn material than necessary.

Polishing wheels give the shoehorn its final sheen.

Once polishing is complete, the horn's color is revealed.

The colors of a horn are near the surface, so the sander must be careful not to remove too much material.

Skilled craftsmanship has transformed a raw horn into a shoe horn in just a few steps.

A laser engraving machine brands the shoehorn with the manufacturer's mark.

Horns may be an ancient material, but they still make relevant instruments for modern life.

Many professional race-car drivers got their start in a formula f car, an entry-level racing car developed in britain in the 1960s.

Initially called "formula ford," the name was changed to formula f when a motor other than a ford was permitted.

A formula f racecar is driven by both aspiring professionals and amateurs.

This car can give drivers a start in the sport and hopefully a strong finish.

Productions starts with a steel tube skeleton known as a space frame.

The frame is designed to be lightweight yet rigid.

The technician measures a piece of steel to be trimmed.

Using a band saw, he cuts the steel to its specified length.

This piece will be used for the roll hoop, which protects the driver's head in the event the car rolls.

He measures the tubing one last time.

When satisfied with its placement, he lowers the saw and cuts off any excess steel.

He clamps the tubing in a hydraulic bending device.

Once activated, the device wraps the tubing around a dye forming it to the desired curvature.

Next, he builds the car's front bulkhead.

He arranges steel tubing in the desired configuration and clamps them to the work bench to hold them steady.

Using angle-measuring tools, the craftsman verifies that the corners of the bulkhead structure measure 90 degrees.

This confirms that the bulkhead is perfectly square.

Next, the bulkhead structure is welded at the joints.

The space-frame tubing is made up of varying thicknesses.

This ensures the bulkhead steel is strong and protected in the event there's a frontal collision.

He compares the newly fabricated bulkhead to the standard.

Once the frame is complete, the builder applies epoxy to the base in preparation for floor installation.

Since the steel floor is substantial in thickness and weight, it takes two technicians to lift it onto the epoxied section of the space frame.

In addition to the epoxy, a craftsman uses rivets to fasten the floor to the frame.

The floor will be the only barrier between the driver and the track.

With the space frame and floor secured, the racecar is ready for mechanical-component assembly.

After installing adapter plates to the engine, the engine is hoisted into the back of the space frame.

Then the adapter plates are bolted to the frame, securing the engine in place.

The technician uses a hoist to carry the transmission system to the motor.

Once in position, he connects the input shaft to the engine.

He straps a fire extinguisher to the cockpit floor using metal bands.

Then he runs wires from the instrument panel to the extinguisher for easy activation.

He screws the panel to the cowl.

Moving to the front, the technician bolts the foot pedals to the floor.

Next, he works on the rack-and-pinion steering system.

This assembly will convert the rotational motion of the steering wheel to the lateral motion of the rack.

Tie rods link the tires to the system.

The technician tests the movement of the rack to confirm that it's operating smoothly.

At another station, computerized tools drill holes in a solid piece of aluminum.

This step transforms the aluminum into a part called the bell crank.

The bell crank will provide a link between the car's suspension rods and the shock absorbers.

It takes about 10 minutes for these computerized tools to turn a piece of aluminum into a precision-crafted bell crank.

The technician installs the bell crank onto the car frame.

With that, they've turned a production corner, and it's full speed ahead to the next phase, coming up.

A formula f car is designed to make semi-professional racing accessible to amateurs.

This vehicle's steel space frame is inexpensive to produce and easier to repair in comparison to frames made of carbon fiber.

With the steel frame complete and the engine and transmission installed, the technician bolts shock absorbers to the chassis, one for each wheel's suspension system.

A technician connects the shock absorbers to the bell crank, linking it to the rest of the suspension system.

He bolts suspension arms to mounts on the frame.

A push rod links the arms to the bell crank.

He bolts the wheel hub assembly to the suspension arms.

He assembles a brake rotor to the hub.

Then he installs the drive shaft assembly.

This assembly connects the transmission to the wheel hub.

That completes the push-rod suspension system for one wheel.

This sheet of aluminum will be used for the back of the fuel-cell compartment.

He measures and marks the sheet accordingly.

He clamps the sheet in a press brake along the measured line and activates the press brake.

The bend forms a flap that will be used to attach the sheet to the car frame.

He measures and marks spots for mounting holes so they'll be evenly spaced when drilled.

The panel is placed in the space frame behind the cockpit with the flap resting on lateral tubing.

The fuel cell is made of a flexible rubber-like material that's unlikely to rupture if in an accident.

He assembles the sides and front panels to the back, creating a compartment that encloses the fuel cell.

Next, the technician wires the racecar's electrical systems together.

He crimps connectors to the ends of the wires and plugs them into their corresponding electrical components.

He routes wiring through the car and plugs in the alternator.

He installs fiberglass support parts to the radiators, attaching one to each side of the car.

He runs hoses from the radiators to the engine.

With the radiators now on the supports, the packing material is removed.

A cone-shaped air filter located on the engine's throttle body will keep dirt out of the engine.

After installing front shock absorbers, he assembles the steering column and shaft to the car.

He slides the steering wheel onto the column.

He tucks a special safety seat into the cockpit.

The seat has been custom-made for the driver.

The harness has six straps for upper-body protection.

Then he connects an exhaust pipe to the engine and hangs it to the car with metal bands.

After the fiberglass body parts are molded, he maps out holes for components.

He cuts out the holes with a rotary sanding tool.

The cockpit's side panels are fitted to the space frame and screwed into place.

The nose of the car is made of carbon fiber.

The strength of the carbon fiber provides additional crash protection.

The body panels are attached with fasteners that can be quickly during a race.

With the front suspension installed, this racecar is ready for wheels.

The technician torques the locknut that holds the wheel in place and slides a pin onto the axle.

It takes about two to three months to build this formula f racecar.

Now that it's left the shop, things are sure to accelerate.


Industrial Casters
Wedding Cakes
Terahertz Spectrometers
Racing Catamarans

Industrial casters are used to move heavy equipment from one location to another.

The wheels make it easy to move mining machinery, large medical devices, or factory carts wherever and whenever it's required.

The size of the object determines the size of the casters used to move it.

Heavy items need casters with thicker wheels.

Some larger objects may need multiple wheels to evenly distribute its weight.

First, they make the top plate, which mounts the caster underneath the object.

They begin with a thick sheet of steel.

A computer-guided cutting machine combines oxygen and electricity to produce plasma.

This incredibly hot flame melts the steel to cut out the part.

They make several other caster parts out of steel coil.

It's a thinner, more flexible type of steel.

They fit it through a punch press.

The press strikes it with a yoke-shaped die.

The yokes are the arms that hold each side of the wheel axle.

Workers place each yoke piece in a forming press.

The press bends the piece into the required shape.

It also makes a circular groove around the hole in the middle.

Next they fill the groove with steel ball bearings.

These bearings allow the yoke to swivel.

The steel retainer holds the ball bearings in place.

They fill the grooves of the steel cap with ball bearings, as well.

Then they place it in a punch press and position the yoke on top of it.

The press joins the cap to the yokes retainer, sandwiching the ball bearings in between.

After riveting the top plate to the yoke, they put a steel seal over the retainer.

They lock it in place with a pneumatic press.

This factory purchases nylon wheel inserts from a supplier.

Workers place the inserts in an injection molding press.

The press melts neoprene rubber and injects it into the mold.

Once it cools to a solid state, the machine ejects what are now rubber-edged wheels.

This process takes about four minutes.

The rubber edge absorbs shock, reduces noise, and prevents damage to the floor.

When this factory needs to make larger wheels, they use a different injection molding press, one that can make wheels five times larger than their standard models.

It works exactly like the other injection molder except it only makes one wheel at time.

A worker carefully places the wheel on a cool-down rack for two and a half hours.

The wheel molds are made of two parts.

The parts form a seam once attached.

A worker grinds down the rubber seam until the surface is smooth.

Now that all the caster's parts are ready, assembly can begin.

First they place a two-part bearing inside the wheel and lock it into position with a pneumatic press.

Next they install a steel guard on each side.

The guards prevent anything from getting inside the wheel and inhibiting its movement.

They position the wheel between the yokes and insert the steel wheel axle.

A bolt head secures one end, and they attach a nut to the other.

Then they tighten everything with an impact gun.

They inject grease to lubricate the ball bearings.

This factory runs random samples through a series of quality control tests.

A machine applies weight and counts how many revolutions the caster can withstand before it finally breaks.

This factory also makes special casters for oven and freezer carts using rubber wheels built to withstand extreme heat or cold.

Their ball bearings are also lubricated with grease that doesn't freeze or melt.

Casters can also come equipped with a foot-activated brake.

Wedding cakes have become bigger and more elaborate over the years.

Today's wedding cakes are multi-tiered and even multi-flavored.

They're typically covered in fondant icing and decorated with ornate sugar flowers.

The finished product is an edible work of art, perfect for that special day.

These customized wedding cakes are covered in fondant.

This special icing acts as a canvas on which delicious designs can be created.

The baker starts by making chocolate cakes for the bottom tier.

Once the cakes come out of the oven, she transfers them directly to the fridge.

The cool, firm cakes are easy to slice into layers.

She spreads buttercream frosting between the layers.

The frosting ingredients include lightly salted butter, icing sugar, and dutch cocoa powder.

Layer by layer, she builds the tier to the desired height.

She puts the tier back in the fridge.

While it's solidifying, she makes the gum paste that will be used to craft the edible flowers.

First, she adds icing sugar to egg whites...

Then thins out the mixture with a teaspoon of water.

Next, she adds food coloring.

She mixes the ingredients for a couple of minutes until they're thoroughly blended.

She adds tylose powder, a synthetic version of gum arabic to harden the mixture.

After another 15 seconds of mixing, the gum paste is ready for kneading.

The baker rubs some vegetable shortening on her hands for lubrication.

She sprinkles some icing sugar on the table to prevent the gum paste from sticking.

Then she kneads the gum paste for 5 to 10 minutes.

Now the artistry begins.

She uses a set of modeling tools made of food-safe, nonstick plastic.

First she makes a little hat out of the pink gum paste.

Then she rolls out another piece until it's paper thin.

The baker uses a gum paste cutter to cut out several teardrop shapes.

One at a time, she lays the tear drops out on a hard foam mat.

She thins and curls the edges with a ball-tipped modeling tool to create a natural-looking rose petal.

Then she switches to a scribe tool.

She curls back the edges to make the petal even more lifelike.

Then she applies tasteless edible glue.

She adheres the first petal onto the point of the gum paste hat.

She wraps it all the way around to create the center of the rose.

The baker attaches the next layer, this time using two petals.

She adds several additional layers using two more petals each time until the rose is complete.

She snips off the base of the hat, then lets the glue dry for 15 minutes.

The baker uses green gum paste to make the leaves.

She rolls the paste thicker at the base and thinner at the top.

Then she presses the sheet against the top of the board to produce vertical veins.

She centers her leaf-shaped cutter over one of the veins and cuts out a leaf.

After attaching the wire to the base, she uses a silicone stamp to imprint smaller veins on the leaf.

This makes it look more realistic.

The baker curls the leaf's edges with a round tool.

She uses a different tool to deepen some of the veining and complete the leaf.

The baker sets her decorations aside and removes the cake tiers from the refrigerator.

She firmly applies the fondant over the chilled chocolate frosting.

She made the fondant earlier with melted marshmallows, butter, icing sugar, vanilla extract, and food coloring.

She applies fondant to the remaining tiers, then stacks them.

She begins decorating this cake with ribbon and italian lace.

She attaches the flowers with stiff edible glue made from egg whites, icing sugar, and lemon juice.

She can also make edible ribbons and lace by pouring liquid gum paste into the appropriate molds.

This special gum paste uses corn syrup and corn starch to reach the right consistency.

A magnificent custom-made cake is designed to be a showpiece at the wedding reception, admired, devoured, and always remembered.

Terahertz spectrometers use invisible light to see through objects, including living tissue.

These t-rays are an emerging technology that allows objects to be imaged and analyzed.

It's a form of radiation that is non-ionizing and believed to be non-destructive.

An alternative to x-rays and ultrasound, terahertz technology generates a light that can't be seen by the naked eye, but it can see what lies beneath the surface.

The technology has potential applications in the medical, security, and manufacturing fields.

Production starts with the circuit board holder for the transmitter sensor head.

Computerized tools drill a hole into a cylindrical piece of brass and carve ridged slots to hold the circuit board.

Another tool transforms a second brass cylinder into the main body for the sensor head.

This is the completed sensor head body.

A technician screws an optical collimator into the housing.

This device separates the laser light into parallel beams.

He inserts a lens in the housing.

The next piece he installs adjusts the position of the circuit board holder in the spectrometer.

He selects a circuit board.

It has a sensor chip in the center that emits terahertz light.

He places it into the holder and slides the holder on the sensor body.

He uses steel pins to lock it in place.

The worker fastens a larger lens on the end.

A device holds the sensor head in place as he tweaks the position of the circuit board.

It must be perfectly aligned in order to receive the laser beam.

He attaches a round circuit board to the sensor head.

This board will allow the sensor head to establish electrical connections.

Next he installs the collimating module.

This device has a larger lens than the sensor head so it can send parallel terahertz beams further.

He attaches a retainer ring to the module.

The technician screws the collimating module to the sensor head.

Now the spectrometer transmitter is complete.

He slides the base of the stand into a rail system.

He installs a receiver at the other end of the rail, and connects fiber optic cables to both the transmitter and the receiver.

The next technician assembles the optical chassis that scans objects for imaging.

He installs lenses in specific locations within the aluminum chassis.

He attaches a mirror to a rail in front of the lenses.

The moving mirror will bounce laser light to scan images.

He tests the rail system to make sure it shuttles the mirror across the spectrometer chassis.

The technician places the chassis on a steel panel and wires the fiber optics throughout.

He connects the fiber optic cable to the laser-generating unit.

He screws an acrylic glass cover to the chassis.

Then he secures the chassis and laser unit to the cabinet panel.

Technicians mount the panel to the back of the spectrometer cabinet using brackets and screws.

Once it's solidly in place, they install the cabinet door.

The door allows for easy access during servicing.

They lock the door, then screw on the top lid.

The spectrometer is ready for the transmitter and receiver assembly.

The technician pushes the fiber optic cable through a hole in the lid and makes all the connections.

He tests the device using a plastic bottle.

The transmitter sends terahertz light through the bottle to measure its thickness and analyze its chemical composition.

The receiver collects the data for computer analysis.

This terahertz spectrometer is now ready to scan objects and show them in a new light.

Thousands of years ago, the polynesians built the first catamarans.

Then in 1876, an american redesigned one for racing.

It was so fast that it was deemed unfair competition and banned from organized racing.

But eventually, racing catamarans made a comeback in the late 20th century.

With two hulls instead of one, catamarans skim the water faster than traditional sailboats.

While a single-hull boat relies on a heavy keel, a catamaran uses its width as leverage to harness the power of the wind.

A racing catamaran starts with foam material for the hull's lightweight core.

A worker clamps the foam to a fiberglass form.

Then he places it into an oven and closes the door.

The oven gradually brings the core temperature up to 160 degrees fahrenheit.

After a few minutes, he takes the foam out of the oven and places an upper form over it.

The softened and malleable foam bends to the form's contours.

After applying a gel coat and fiberglass fabric in a hull mold, he lays in the shaped foam pieces.

He fills any gaps in the core with slivers of foam material.

He adds little squares of porous plastic to reinforce areas where hardware will be attached later.

The worker drapes fiberglass fabric loosely over the core.

He sprays a small amount of rubber cement onto the core and presses the fabric into it.

The cement helps the fabric stick to the core.

Then he stretches nylon fabric over the fiberglass and foam.

He runs spiral cut tubing along the sides of the mold.

He cuts it to the right length and tapes it down.

After laying down a plastic mesh, two workers cover the mold and its contents in plastic.

They secure the edges of the mold with tacky tape, creating a tight seal.

The team connects a vacuum to the spiral tubing on one side of the mold.

When they turn it on, the vacuum sucks out the air, pulling the layers tightly together.

They prepare a vinyl-based resin and apply it using the vacuum tube.

The vacuum pumps the resin through the layers of fiberglass and foam.

The resin takes a couple of hours to dry.

The team removes the plastic, mesh, and nylon layers, revealing one half of a catamaran hull.

Next they install the bulkheads.

They use special tools to accurately position them in the hull.

They also place bulkheads in the second half of the hull.

The workers join the two hulls while they're still in the molds and seal the seam with epoxy.

They remove the hull from the molds and cut an opening for the trunk.

It holds a retractable center board for curbing sideways movement.

They attach the screws used to lace the trampoline platform.

A worker applies glue-back strips of plastic to protect the fiberglass from chafing.

He screws sailing hardware to both hulls.

The hulls are placed in an alignment jig.

Then the team installs crossbars that fit into molded recesses.

They attach a rudder system to each hull and test them to verify they operate correctly.

The trampoline platform is made of polypropylene.

The front slides into a molded groove.

They lace up the back and sides with double-braided synthetic rope.

He pulls the laces tight to keep the platform rigid.

Once the other sailing control lines are in place, they're ready to hoist the sail on this racing catamaran.

From start to finish, it takes three weeks to produce a racing catamaran.

In competition, these boats have been clocked at three times the speed of wind.


Radiators
Hatchery Chicks
Filo Pastry
Cross

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

Car radiators...

Hatchery chicks...

Phyllo dough...

And cross-country skis.

When the gasoline in a car engine burns, up to 70% of the energy generated converts into heat.

A lot of this heat goes out the exhaust system, but much of it stays heating up the engine.

The car's cooling system prevents overheating.

The system's key component is the radiator.

A water-and-antifreeze mix absorbs the heat generated by the engine.

The fluid then flows through the radiator tubes to cool down.

The tubes are made from paper-thin brass.

The 1.5-inch-wide strip is bent by rollers into the shape of a flat tube.

The tubing then runs through a vat of bubbling-hot molten lead.

As the tubing exits the vat, it runs through cold water that hardens the lead coating.

A cutter then chops the tubing into pieces, the length of which varies according to the model of radiator.

These are about 30 inches long.

Meanwhile, another machine shapes a narrow strip of copper just 6/100 of an inch thick into what are called "cooling fins".

As we'll see in slow motion, the machine folds the copper strip like a fan, then perforates it, creating mini air vents.

When the hot fluid runs through the tubes, these fins will transfer the heat to the air flowing through the radiator.

The cooled fluid can then go back for another round of absorbing engine heat.

The cooling fins come out of the machine cut to size.

Then workers manually stack the tubes and fins one on top of the other.

They straighten them out and apply a brass tag indicating the model number and date of production.

Then they compress and strap the components together.

Elsewhere, a computer-guided machine punches out a pattern on brass sheets.

These will become what are called "headers".

There's one on each side of a radiator.

The punching tool then changes to a knife, which now cuts along the perforation lines.

Using a press, they bend each header.

Then punch slots for the radiator's tubes.

Now, using a mallet, they hammer the headers onto the ends of the tubes.

The banging inadvertently closes a few tubes, so they use a special roller to reopen them.

After cleaning the surface, it's into an oven at 600 degrees fahrenheit.

In just two minutes, the lead melts, fusing the tubes and cooling fins.

After straightening out any crooked tubes, workers dip the headers in a tank of hot-liquid lead for 30 seconds.

This solders them to the sides of the radiator.

They apply a few drops of lead on the corners for reinforcement.

The headers and tube openings are now encased in lead.

Workers now feed a sheet of brass into a press to form the tanks that go onto the headers.

One contains a brass tube.

Hot transmission oil enters one end of it and exits the other, cooling along the way.

Once workers finish soldering the tanks to the headers, they solder on what's called the filler net, a spout for pouring antifreeze into the tank.

On the opposite tank, they solder on a water-intake pipe.

This will be the entry point for the fluid heated by the engine.

Finally, they coat the finished radiator in an asphalt-based black paint.

The asphalt content makes the paint heat resistant and protects the radiator's cooling fins.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

It's an age-old question, and we can't give you the definitive answer.

But we can take you to a hatchery to see how baby chicks are bred.

It's the first step in commercial chicken farming, or the second step if you think the egg came first.

Chicks come from eggs fertilized by mating, but a hen can lay eggs without mating.

Those unfertilized eggs are the ones we eat.

The fertilized ones go to the hatchery three or four days after being laid.

Hatchery workers transfer the eggs onto special trolleys, then roll them into the incubator, where the temperature and humidity level mimic natural conditions.

The egg yolk, egg white, and shell all nourish the embryo.

Every hour, the trays shift 45 degrees to the opposite side and back, simulating the way hens turn their eggs while waiting for them to hatch.

After 18 1/2 days, the eggs come out of incubation and go onto a conveyer belt.

They pass under an infrared sensor that checks for eggs that are too transparent.

These are unfertilized eggs that slipped through.

The sensor triggers a suction device to remove them.

They go to a rendering plant to become animal feed.

The fertilized eggs continue along to the next station to be vaccinated against marek, a poultry disease.

Automated needles pierce a hole in each shell and inject a vaccine into the amniotic fluid surrounding the chick.

Now a suction device transfers the eggs to hatching trays, 168 eggs per tray.

About 150 of them can be expected to hatch.

The rest die in incubation or have physical defects.

Day 19--  the chicks use their beaks to crack a hole through the shell, then a horizontal line all around.

After six to eight hours, the chicks finally emerge from the shell.

They're covered in short feathers called "down," and they're able to walk and see.

After about four hours, their down has dried.

Now workers roll the chicks to what's called the separator, a machine that separates the birds from the shell halves.

The shells are larger than the chicks, so they stay on top while the chicks fall down to a conveyer belt below.

The shells, which are high in calcium, go to a rendering plant.

The chicks move on to be classified according to gender.

Workers put the females down one chute, the males down another.

They determine the sex by checking two rows of feathers.

If one row's shorter than the other, the chick's a female.

If the rows are the same height, it's a male.

Each chute feeds a separate conveyer belt.

An optical counter tracks the number of males and females.

The chicks now fall into specially designed transportation boxes, 102 chicks per box.

Some clients request that their order of chicks be vaccinated against bronchitis.

Those boxes pass under an aerosol sprayer that sprinkles them with a mild dose of vaccine.

Poultry farmers raise chicks for their meat or eggs.

Females used for egg production begin laying eggs at about 20 weeks of age.

For meat production, females reach slaughter weight at about 38 days.

Males, depending on market size, take from 40 to 65 days.

If you like greek food, then you've probably tasted baklava.

It's made with a paper-thin, flaky dough called "phyllo," the greek word for "leaf".

Phyllo dough itself is low-fat and cholesterol-free.

Unfortunately, the stuff they usually fill it with isn't.

Phyllo dough can be made by hand or by machine.

Either way, it starts with the same dough recipe.

The proportions are roughly 40% water to 60% flour.

They use two types of wheat flour-- high-protein flour to make the dough strong and flexible and low-protein flour to make its texture smooth.

They also add sorbate, a preservative, to increase shelf life.

After about 15 minutes of mixing, the dough is ready.

They cut off a section and feed it into a machine called the divider, which transforms it into a cylindrical wad.

They hand-roll the wad into a rough ball, then feed it two or three times through a machine that kneads the dough into a rounder, harder ball with no air bubbles trapped inside.

They can tell when it's ready just by feeling it.

Then a machine called the sheeter flattens the ball into what looks like pizza dough.

Workers stack about 30 sheets with craft paper in between to absorb some of the moisture.

Now the key step--  opening the dough.

First, they lay a large cotton cloth over the work surface.

It must be 100% cotton to absorb the moisture.

Otherwise, the dough would stick together.

They take the sheet of dough and begin stretching it by hand until it's approximately 27 square feet.

Even though the dough is stretched thin, it doesn't tear.

This is due partly to its protein content and partly to the skill of the worker.

They repeat the process with all 30 sheets, stacking them one on top of the other.

Then they take a plank of wood, called a "sanida" in greek, and roll the dough sheets onto it one by one, removing the cloths that were in between.

They sprinkle corn starch on the dough, just enough to prevent sticking.

Too much corn starch will burn the dough.

Now they move the sanida to another table and cut along one side of the dough.

They remove the wood and open the sheets flat.

Then they cut rectangles measuring 13x17 inches, standard phyllo size.

Each sheet of phyllo dough is about as thin as a sheet of tissue paper, but it's strong and flexible enough not to tear when a baker works with it.

Machine-made phyllo dough is a much faster method, used primarily for mass-produced frozen-food items.

An automated machine called the stretcher transforms a big wad of dough into a thin, flat sheet, applying just the right amount of corn starch.

A continuous air current coming from underneath creates an air bubble.

The height of the bubble tells them whether the dough is the right consistency.

The dough dries under infrared lamps.

This step is necessary because this method doesn't use craft paper and cotton cloths to absorb the excess moisture.

The dried sheet of dough rolls onto a spool.

They cut along the side to release the dough and lay it flat.

Using a template, they cut the standard size rectangle, yielding about 800 sheets of phyllo dough.

They roll about 20 sheets together at a time and wrap them in plastic.

Then, they vacuum-pack and heat-seal the package.

Phyllo dough stays fresh for six weeks in the refrigerator, six months in the freezer.

Cross-country skis used to look pretty much all the same-- long, narrow, and wooden.

Today's skis, however, come in many different styles, specifically designed for the many types of cross-country-- telemark, back-country, all-terrain, touring, and racing.

Archeologists in scandinavia have uncovered ski artifacts 5,000 years old.

These stone-age skis enabled people to hunt during the winter.

Skiing became so vital a means of transportation that the vikings worshipped a god and goddess of skiing.

19th-century scandinavian soldiers wore skis in winter warfare.

They held races in their spare time, turning cross-country skiing into a popular sport.

From there, it just snowballed.

One way to make cross-country skis is compression molding, a process that uses heat and pressure to bond the components together.

First, a computer-guided blade cuts out what will become the ski's underside, called the gliding surface.

It's made of pre-assembled fiberglass laminate and polyethylene thermoplastic, a friction-resistant material.

They lay it into the bottom half of a mold, then glue on steel edges for grip.

This spray makes the adhesive dry faster so that they can apply the principle adhesive-- epoxy.

A rubber shock absorber goes on the back, followed by a durable plastic reinforcement called the heel-piece protector.

The ski's wooden core is made of aspen and birch laminated together.

Next comes a sheet of fiberglass impregnated with epoxy for extra reinforcement.

The wood core is now sandwiched between two high-resistance layers.

Then, for decoration, a plastic film with a silk-screen design.

With everything now in the bottom half of the mold, they clamp on the top and tape it up to ensure nothing shifts out of place.

Then it's into a press that compresses the mold and heats it to 185 degrees fahrenheit.

This activates the epoxy, hardening it in 12 to 15 minutes, depending on the thickness of the ski.

Now they do a rough cut to trim off the excess.

Then they sand all the edges until they're smooth.

They run the gliding surface across a grinding stone, that white object you see below.

This extra step is only for the higher-end models.

Another way to make cross-country skis is by a process called reaction-injection molding.

First, they place the skis' top layer, a fiberglass-epoxy sheet, in the mold...

Then the gliding surface, made of pre-assembled fiberglass laminate and polyethylene with a high-resistance backing.

Instead of a wooden core in the middle, this press injects a super-resilient plastic.

In just three seconds, the injection phase is over, and the reaction phase begins.

This demonstration shows what happens.

First, the polyurethane inflates...

Then it hardens.

After eight minutes, it's hardened enough to come out of the mold.

They let the ski cure for up to eight hours, at which point it's strong enough to support the weight of a skier.

Now, these three components-- the top layer, the polyurethane middle, and the gliding surface--  are one.

Now comes the finishing.

First they trim and bevel the edges.

They sand the gliding surface.

Then they carve a groove down its length.

This gives the ski directional stability.

All that's left to do now is decorate the skis.

First the background color and a quick-drying, solvent-based lacquer.

They apply the design manually, one color at a time, using the silk-screening process.

A typical design consists of five to seven colors, including the background.

To keep the skis looking vibrant, they protect the paint with a coat of transparent varnish.


Motion Sensors
Belt Loaders
Pheasant Breeding
Diving Helmets

Tiny motion sensors known as accelerometers are at the heart of much of today's technology.

Built into a smartphone, for example, the sensor detects both movement and the angle at which the phone is being held to trigger the rotation of the screen.

This little chip is why a smartphone knows when it has moved.

These motion sensors are tiny, but smart, because they can detect every move.

They start with silicon disks called wafers.

Each wafer will be used to make thousands of motion sensors.

A technician aligns the disks in a cassette, using the flat part of each one as a reference point.

Once properly aligned, a mechanism lowers the silicon wafers onto a carrier made of quartz, which can withstand intense heat.

The technician loads the wafers into the furnace.

Inside, the 2,000-degree heat and steam cause an oxide to form on the surface of each wafer.

It'll act as an electrical insulator.

Then it goes into what's known as a sputter system.

Here, inert gas ions bombard aluminum, causing it to sputter onto the wafer until an even layer accumulates.

This aluminum layer will serve as a conductor of electricity.

The next machine deposits a light-sensitive chemical onto the wafer.

The wafer spins, allowing the chemical to flow evenly across the surface.

This all happens under the glow of yellow light to prevent the untimely activation of the chemical, which reacts to bright light just like an unexposed photographic negative would.

They're now ready for that bright light.

U.v. light beams through tiny patterns on a glass plate to activate the light-sensitive chemical.

The patterns transfer to the wafer's surface, forming an outline for thousands of motion sensors.

Another chemical then flows onto the silicon wafer to further develop these miniscule images.

Next, lasers locate the wafer's flat edge, signaling a chuck to spin into its proper position for plasma etching.

The etching creates thousands of free-moving 3-d structures.

Each one is a motion sensor.

After etching, a sprayer blasts the surface with carbon dioxide.

It's the only way to clean it without damaging the now-movable sensors.

At the next station, a robotic arm flips the wafer into position.

A tray moves under the robot and places the wafer on it.

The tray retracts and loads the wafer into a clamping system.

It then collects a second silicon wafer and places it on the first one in the clamp.

The second wafer acts as a lid to protect the individual sensors.

Held in the clamp, a machine heat-seals the two wafers, and the bond is complete.

Next, a computerized saw cuts grooves into the top wafer only, while a steady stream of water keeps the dust down.

The saw exposes the aluminum layer on the bottom wafer, something that will allow each sensor to make an electrical connection.

A platform now moves the wafer a millimeter at a time so that a probe can test each sensor and confirm it performs correctly.

This continues until every sensor on the wafer has been tested.

From a plain silicon wafer to a unit that contains thousands of motion sensors-- this process takes three weeks.

After the individual sensors have been cut and encased in plastic, they're ready for a final test.

A robot loads each sensor into a test socket.

The socket both tests the sensor's performance and programs it to customer specifications.

A robot packages the sensors for shipping.

And once installed in phones, tablets, and computers, these motion sensors will be ready for action.

If you've been to an airport, you've seen mobile belt loaders on the tarmac.

They drive from the terminal to the aircraft, align their built-in conveyor belt with the entrance to the cargo hold, then load baggage or cargo on board.

When an aircraft arrives, they do all that in reverse to unload baggage or cargo.

A turn of the control handle adjusts the height of the front of the belt loader, enabling it to reach the cargo hold of even the tallest aircraft.

The rear height is also adjustable so the airport baggage handlers can set it at a level comfortable for loading.

The vehicle and the conveyor belt are separate units.

In this part of the factory, workers construct the conveyor's steel frame.

They weld together all the steel parts then grind all the weld seams flat so that the belt will move over the frame smoothly.

Workers install a crossmember just past the midpoint of the frame.

It will connect with two sets of lift arms installed in the vehicle-- one which raises and lowers the front of the conveyor, the other which raises and lowers the rear.

Workers insert alignment pins to position the crossmember on the frame correctly, then weld it into place.

The vehicle's chassis is also made of welded steel.

Workers blast the chassis and conveyor frame with a metal abrasive.

This removes rust and other debris, prepping the surface for paint to adhere properly.

The caulk all the unwelded seams to prevent corrosion, then spray a coat of primer followed by a coat of industrial-grade paint in the color the customer requested.

Once the paint dries, assembly can resume.

On the conveyor frame, they install the motor, which drives the belt.

There are two options available-- this hydraulic motor powered by the vehicle's engine or an electric motor powered by battery.

The motor rotates two large metal rollers-- one at the front of the frame, the other at the rear.

The belt wraps around these rollers so that, when they turn, the belt moves.

Between the end rollers, running the entire length of the conveyor, workers install 58 smaller metal rollers.

These form the floor of the conveyor and can support up to a ton of cargo.

The motor runs these rollers forward or in reverse, depending on whether the belt is loading or unloading the aircraft.

The belt itself is made of high-strength tire-grade rubber with an antiskid texture on the surface.

To be long enough to loop around the 25-foot-long conveyor plus the end rollers, the belt is 50 feet in length.

The ends have teeth which fit into each other like a zipper and fasten with a metal pin.

Elsewhere in the factory, technicians install components on the vehicle chassis.

First, the front and rear axles...

Then on each axle, two wheels with tires specifically designed for long life on the airport tarmac.

At the rear of the chassis, they install the hydraulic cylinder, which raises and lowers the rear lift arms, then the vehicle's engine, which can be either gas, diesel, propane, or electric powered.

The vehicle drives at a maximum speed of just 25 miles per hour, but that's more than sufficient for traveling between the terminal and the aircraft.

After installing the power-steering system, technicians run wiring for the lights and other electrical components, run hydraulic hoses for the brakes and lift cylinders, and install the controls for the conveyor.

They install the hydraulic cylinder, which raises the front lift arms, then connect the fluid hoses to the hydraulic pump.

Next, they install the front and rear lift arms along with a safety brace underneath to use when mechanics are working beneath the conveyor.

They attach the lift arms to the front and rear cylinders, which expand to raise the arms and retract to lower them.

Now workers hoist the conveyor over the vehicle and bolt the front and rear lift arms to the crossmember on the conveyor's underside.

The two units are now one mobile belt loader, ready to roll off the line and hit the tarmac.

The pheasant is one of the most sought-after game birds in north america, but populations in the wild have dwindled.

To replenish them and also supply a market for pheasant meat, farmers raise breeding stock and incubate their eggs to make it more likely they'll yield chicks.

With stunning plumage and an ability to both run and fly, no wonder the pheasant struts around.

Each pheasant lays approximately four eggs weekly, april through to july.

Farm workers collect the eggs daily before the pheasants have an opportunity to nest.

With their intervention, the hatch rate will get a big boost.

It will go from 40% to at least 75%.

The farmer washes the eggs in water and special soap to remove dirt and bacteria that could infiltrate the shells and harm the growing chicks.

She inspects the eggs and rejects any cracked or very large ones that would contain a double yolk.

Eggs with cracks or double yolks won't hatch.

One last dip, and she sets the eggs aside to drip dry.

Once dry, she taps eggs together systematically and listens.

If the tap sounds like fine china clinking together, they're suitable for hatching.

But if the tap sounds dull, there's likely a crack.

By listening, she finds one or two cracked eggs she missed with the visual inspection.

She places the eggs in an incubator rack and transfers it to a cooling room.

The pheasant eggs chill here for a few days.

The cooling slows down cell division until the farmer is ready to put the eggs in the incubator.

Chick production is timed for two hatches weekly.

When the time is right, she transfers the eggs to the incubator.

The incubator is a toasty 100 degrees fahrenheit to mimic the warmth of a hen's body.

She latches the racks onto an automated system that gently rocks the long cradles back and forth to turn the pheasant eggs.

Turning the eggs routinely is something that nesting hens do naturally, and it's important.

Without it, the developing embryo could stick to the shell, causing abnormal growth.

The farmer monitors the incubator temperature and humidity several times daily.

Three weeks later, she removes the rack and places it on a tray lined with cheesecloth.

She opens each cradle, and the eggs spill softly onto the tray.

At this point, there are tiny pits on the shells caused by the chicks' beaks as they attempt to break through.

Once on the tray, she arranges them close together in a figure-eight configuration.

This way, the chicks can feel each other moving, cuing them to break out of their shells.

She pumps water onto the tiers of the hatcher now.

The hatcher is warmer than the incubator.

She covers the trays with screens to keep the chicks from jumping onto other trays.

As the water heats up, the humidity increases.

This causes the shells to weaken, making it easier for the pheasant chicks to break out of their shells.

After a couple of days, the eggs have hatched.

After drying off, the chicks are fluffy and lively.

The farmer packs them in ventilated cardboard boxes.

Freshly hatched, they'll survive 60 hours without food, giving the breeder enough time to ship them anywhere in the world.

That's why pheasants are easier to ship when they're chicks.

Some customers prefer more mature birds, so the farmer raises some chicks in wire frames for a week, until their legs become stronger.

Then they move those chicks to other heated buildings until they're ready to thrive outdoors.

Some will be kept as breeding stock.

Others will be sold as food.

The rest will be introduced into the wild and just fly away.

Today's diving helmets are produced primarily for history buffs and divers performing underwater work, such as welding the submerged parts of bridges.

Unlike a scuba tank, which carries a limited amount of oxygen, a helmet connects to an air pump at the surface, providing an unlimited air supply.

A diving helmet is completely watertight so the diver doesn't need a mouthpiece to breathe and can speak to people at the surface via a built-in transceiver.

This helmet is the design the u.s. navy used from 1916 until 1984.

At the factory, they make the helmet's head portion, called the bonnet, from a copper sheet about a millimeter and a half thick that's been spun on a lathe into a dome.

They buff it smooth, then, using a template, mark where to cut openings for the various components.

It takes a good month and a half for the factory to machine all those components and assemble the helmet.

With a hammer and punch, they dimple the copper at the marked spots.

This will give the saw a foothold on the otherwise slippery surface.

Then they apply cutting oil to prevent the saw from overheating as it bores through the metal.

The first cut is a 6-inch-wide hole at the front for the bonnet's hinged faceplate.

They saw eight openings for the bonnet's other components, including three windows.

Next, with tin-and-lead solder, they fuse a threaded neck ring to the bottom edge.

This ring attaches the bonnet to the helmet's breastplate, which bolts to the collar of the diver's dry suit.

Then they solder a base to the faceplate opening.

Like all the helmet's components, it's made of red brass, which is more durable than standard brass due to its higher copper content.

Next, through a template, they drill holes into a banana-shaped brass exhaust tube.

It enables the diver's exhaled air to exit the helmet.

They solder the exhaust to the bonnet, positioning the non-perforated end over a hole near the diver's mouth and the perforated end at the rear.

This directs air bubbles behind the diver so as not to obstruct the view.

Then they solder on the remaining components, including three window bases.

Just as one does when installing a window in a building, they apply glazing to the faceplate and window bases to seal the three-inch thick acrylic pane against leaks.

For underwater safety, they screw a brass guard to the base.

This prevents the pane from popping out should too much air pressure build up inside the helmet.

Now they install the transceiver and feed its wires through a brass elbow, which will ultimately attach to a communications cable running to the surface.

With the bonnet complete, it's time to shape the helmet's breastplate.

They lay a copper sheet onto a breastplate-shaped mandrel, clamp on a breastplate-shaped form, heat the copper with a torch to make it malleable, then, with a wooden mallet soaked in brine to keep it from splitting, pound the copper for about 45 minutes, until it assumes the shape.

Then they chisel out the neck opening.

Once the copper has cooled, they transfer the breastplate to a form and begin reinforcing the bottom with a brass strap.

After clamping the strap in position, they hammer the copper around and over its outer edge.

Then they remove the clamps and solder the copper to the strap.

Once the soldering's done, they grind the surface smooth and drill 12 holes into the strap for the custom-made bolts that connect the helmet to the collar of the diver's dry suit.

Then, after flipping the breastplate upside down, they wrap solder around the bolts, drop them in the holes, and melt the solder to lock them in.

They polish the metal and solder on the last breastplate components-- a threaded neck ring for connecting the bonnet and, at the front, a pair of brass eyes for lashing the air- and communication hoses off to the side so they won't get in the diver's way underwater.