Severalyears ago I was visiting the laboratory of a colleague who studies the behavior of birds when I observed something that I considered to be spooky. He had two banks of cages in the lab, containing about a dozen-and-a-half white birds. I was discussing an academic issue with him when I suddenly noticed that almost all of the birds were standing in their individual cages with their heads and bodies pointed in the same direction. It was obvious that the birds were not looking at something that they found interesting, since they were looking slantwise away from the open mesh cage door which gave a clear view of the laboratory.
When I asked my colleague what was going on, he smiled and said, "It's fall, and if these birds were out in the wild they would be preparing to migrate back to the south. A bunch of researchers have been able to show that these birds, and many others, have a magnetic sense, so that they can tell where north and south is. So the reason they are all oriented in the same direction is that they are attuned to that magnetic information and are responding to it by facing south."
About a year or so after that incident I encountered a piece of research which seemed to provide evidence that domestic dogs also perceive the Earth's magnetic fields and even respond to small variations in geomagnetism. The data was subtle, but it demonstrated that under calm magnetic field conditions dogs showed behavior that was influenced by magnetism. Specifically, the researchers looked at when dogs marked their home territory by urinating or defecating. At these times the dogs tended to align their bodies roughly along the north-south magnetic axis. During unstable magnetic field conditions (such as during geomagnetic storms caused by variations in the "solar wind") this directional preference disappeared. While that study seemed to indicate that dogs were responding to magnetism, it left a lot of questions unanswered, such as "What mechanisms allow dogs to detect magnetic fields?" and "How is this ability useful for them?" But I suppose that the question that nagged at me the most as a psychologist was whether the dogs were simply being subtly and unconsciously influenced by these magnetic fields or were they actually perceiving something which they could consciously process and cognitively respond to.
The answer to my question appears in a recent report published by a team of researchers headed by Sabine Martini of the Department of General Zoology at the University of Duisburg-Essen in Essen, Germany. Their reasoning was that if dogs were consciously aware of magnetic fields then this perception could be used to train dogs to make specific discriminations, just like one might train dogs to respond to a particular shape or sound.
The setup sounds a bit strange at first, but it does make sense. The researchers took three large brown glass jars, placed a bar magnet in one, and a brass unmagnetized bar in each of the others. Lids were then placed on the jars to keep out any potential odor cues. The notion was that the magnetic effects would easily pass through the glass and if dogs perceive these in some way then they could use that that information to select the jar containing the magnetized target. As a control condition, three glass jars were used again but this time one of the jars contained a food treat. Once more the jars were sealed and since no odors could escape and the contents of the jar could not be clearly seen it seemed unlikely that the dogs would ever detect the presence of the food contained within.
These experiments seem to support the existence of a magnetic sense in dogs, and further, seem to prove that something about the magnetic field is actually registering in the dogs' conscious perception of the world. Why this ability evolved in dogs, and whether this magnetic sense is used in helpful or adaptive ways to guide a dog's behavior both still remain unanswered questions.
Just like Jaws scared people away from swimming, this scene made me afraid of getting up in the middle of the night to pee. One of the reasons why is that it seemed like something that could possibly happen to me. After all, I was around the same age as Cole.
It turns out that the actress behind the ghoulish glare and bruise makeup is a lovely woman named Janis Dardaris. When I talked to her over the phone, I brought her back to 1999 and described the sense of inescapable fear I felt during her scene, shuddering in a stadium seat of my local theater.
Along with echidnas, this semi-aquatic animal is one of only five mammalian species that lays eggs. These monotremes, as egg-laying mammals are known, share another characteristic. They have a so-called sixth sense: electroreception.
To find these meals in the mud, it relies on its bill instead. This super-sensory organ is packed with three distinct receptor cells that help the platypus detect movements and subtle electric fields produced by its prey.
Push-rod mechanoreceptors on the bill detect changes in pressure and motion, while two types of electroreceptors track the electrical signals produced by the muscular contractions of the small prey. Using a side-to-side motion of its head, the platypus gauges the direction and distance of its next meal by collecting, and combining, these flows of sensory information.
As hunters know from hours, days and years of stalking, sitting, watching and waiting each fall in the woods, routine noises often come from three sources: squirrels, birds and the wind or other natural occurrences. The sounds of leaves rustling or branches breaking can usually be attributed to one of the three, and the telltale sounds of approaching elk (or other animals) are oftentimes nearly indistinguishable.
However, after a couple hours of sitting, listening and observing, a barely audible noise compelled me to (without consciously thinking about it) slightly shift my sitting position to better face the game trail. Within seconds a mule deer doe and two fawns appeared, and I immediately directed my predatorial stare slightly away from the advancing trio, tracking their progress peripherally.
A few days later I was again sitting motionless next to a game trail and, again, subtly shifted my sitting position in response to another innocuous sound that could have been made by almost anything. My visual scan of the trail noticed something by a tree about 100 feet distant. It might have been just an overlooked branch, log or shifting sunlight, and I nearly disregarded it out of hand, but for some reason continued watching.
Elk traveling in groups are usually led by an older, more experienced cow that has survived many encounters with predators (human and otherwise) thanks to her keen senses and adroit evasion skills. She peered cautiously down the trail, unable to discern my motionless form sitting in the early morning shadows, and took a few more tentative steps. Behind her another adult cow appeared, then another, followed by a calf. The bull, if there was one, would be last in line.
Millions of years of direct contact with wilderness and hunting-gathering are hard-baked into our genes, and a mere 10,000 years of existing mostly in cities and civilizations has not changed our basic genetic makeup. A few days of hunting (sitting, listening, waiting and watching) can bring latent skills and senses back to the forefront of our daily lives, keeping vital instincts alive and, sometimes, putting meat in the freezer.
This last shot is interesting in other ways. My impression is that Shyamalan is playing with our unconscious here: the shape of the greenery area leads my thoughts to a coffin, something that is reinforced by the framing of the black fence, like the black borders traditionally used for photographs of the deceased. Even though green usually represents life, the fact that Malcolm is only seemingly alive fits fine with the green-enclosed-by-black constellation. Furthermore, it is precisely Malcolm sitting there on the bench, waiting for Cole to come out of a house on the other side. Since Malcolm is dead it is symbolically perfectly logical that something representing death should function as a visual barrier. The same barrier continues to be in play when Cole soon tries to run away from Malcolm, who chases after the boy, each on their own side of the barrier.
So there is a crescendo of plot connections to be made. There is also a cascade of redemptions, resolutions and closures. All the while, as the three endings grow progressively longer and more complex, there are an unusually large number of motifs, phrases and situations from earlier stages of the film that will reappear, something that adds even more to the general sense of coherence and finality.
So all four major characters are given the opportunity to move on to a new, improved plane, and everyone has helped. This is already a pretty solid foundation of unity and coherence, but there is more.
So there is a strong feeling of thematic unity in The Sixth Sense. Let us briefly consider some other contributing factors. All of the four main characters have something in common: they strongly miss another person.
To avoid interrupting the flow of the story, I have chosen also to include images that do not have any particular interpretative value nor any need for explanation.Unless otherwise noted, the analysis contains frame grabs of all the shots. Only pertinent dialogue has been included.
But there is more coherence, completeness and closure. Incidentally, one form of completeness arises out of the formal device of the fades we just saw, because the film fades away both into whiteness and darkness, and what can be more complete than that?
Fitak and researchers in the United Kingdom and Israel recently authored an article in Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B that proposes a hypothesis that the magnetic sense comes from a symbiotic relationship with magnetotactic bacteria.
In the article, the researchers review the arguments for and against the hypothesis, present evidence published in support that has arisen in the past few years, as well as offer new supportive evidence of their own.
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