On a surface much hotter than their boiling point, droplets can surf on a layer of their own vapor due to the Leidenfrost effect. Recent research has shown that textured surfaces like ratchets can create corrals, traps, and mazes for such droplets. Here, researchers manipulate the propulsion of Leidenfrost drops using non-parallel grooves instead. When placed between two non-parallel plates, the droplet is squeezed by side forces perpendicular to the walls, with the resultant force in the direction where the gap widens. In most states, friction forms an opposition to this squeeze, but for Leidenfrost droplets that frictional force is negligible. Instead, the squeezing from the plates launches droplets toward the wider end of the groove, allowing researchers to design repellers (top) and traps (bottom) for the fast-moving drops. (Image credits: C. Luo et al., source)
Despite their ubiquity and importance, we know surprisingly little about how clouds form. The broad strokes of the process are known, but the details remain somewhat fuzzy. One challenge is understanding how nucleation – the formation of droplets that become clouds or rain – works. A recent laboratory experiment in an analog cloud chamber suggests that falling rain drops may help spawn more rain drops.
The experiment takes place in a chamber filled with sulfur hexafluoride and helium. The former acts like water in our atmosphere, appearing in both liquid and vapor forms, while the latter takes the place of dry components of our atmosphere, like nitrogen. The bottom of the chamber is heated, forming a liquid layer of sulfur hexafluoride, seen at the bottom of the animation above. The top of the chamber is cooled, encouraging sulfur hexafluoride vapor to condense and form droplets that fall like rain. A top view of the same apparatus during a different experiment is shown in this previous post.
When droplets fall through the chamber, their wakes mix cold vapor from near the drop with warmer, ambient vapor. This changes the temperature and saturation conditions nearby and kicks off the formation of microdroplets. These are the cloud of tiny black dots seen above. Under the right conditions, these microdroplets grow swiftly as more vapor condenses onto them. In time, they grow heavy enough to fall as rain drops of their own. (Image credits: P. Prabhakaran et al.; via APS Physics; submitted by Kam-Yung Soh)
It’s easy to imagine sea turtles as slow and awkward given our familiarity with their terrestrial cousins, tortoises, but this could hardly be further from the truth. There are currently seven living species of sea turtles and all use a mode of locomotion known as aquatic flight. As the name suggests, swimming sea turtles share a lot in common with birds and other fliers. They generate most of their propulsion by flapping their forelimbs. Like birds, they change the angle of attack of their flippers over the course of both their upstroke and downstroke.
Of course, a cruising sea turtle is more interested in thrust than lift, but the efficiency of flapping is far higher than that of a rowing motion. That holds true across a range of speeds and is probably why marine turtles, known for their vast migrations, predominantly use flapping. It’s also remarkable how fast they can move when they want to. The animations above show two species of sea turtles cruising casually at a speed where a snorkeler in fins could follow along. But when the turtles wanted to, they could take off at a clip no human could hope to match! (Image credit: N. Sharp; research credit: J. Davenport et al., J. Walker and M. Westneat, H. Prange, E. Dougherty et al.)
One of my favorite things to do while we were sailing along the Galapagos was watching the blue-footed boobies hunt. Like the gannets shown above, boobies are plunge divers. They circle overhead until they spot their prey, then they fold their wings and dive headfirst into the water, impacting at speeds of more than 20 m/s (~45 mph). It’s absolutely incredible to watch. The physics involved are impressive, too, especially considering how badly a human would be injured diving at their speeds!
Fluid dynamically speaking, there are three important phases to the birds’ entry. The first is the impact phase, which lasts from initial contact until the bird’s head is underwater. In the second phase, an air cavity forms behind the head and around the neck as it enters the water. Finally, when the chest – the widest point of the bird – hits the water, the bird reaches the submerged phase.
Mechanically, the most interesting part is the air cavity phase. During this time, the bird’s head is slowing down due to high hydrodynamic drag from the water, but the rest of the bird is still moving fast. That means the bird’s slender neck experiences strong compressive forces, which would tend to make it buckle. Researchers at Virginia Techexamined this very problem and found that the birds’ sizing – its head shape, neck length, and so forth – combined with their typical diving speeds kept these birds well away from the conditions that would cause their necks to buckle. With the added stabilization from the birds’ neck muscles, they estimated that gannets and other plunge divers might be able to safely dive at speeds twice what would kill a human! Check out the BBC video below to see high-speed footage of gannets diving. (Image credits: G. Lecoeur; B. Chang et al.; research credits: B. Chang et al., pdf; video credit: BBC)
Tomorrow will be the final day of Galapagos Week. Catch up on previous posts here.
One of the most unique inhabitants of the Galapagos Islands is the marine iguana. These reptiles live in colonies of thousands and subsist entirely on marine algae. Smaller iguanas are intertidal feeders, grazing on green and red algae when it is exposed near low tide. But the largest iguanas feed near midday by swimming out and diving to feed on richer pastures.
The iguanas are surprisingly good swimmers, even though marine iguanas exhibit little extra specialization for it compared to other iguana species. They swim both at the surface and underwater with an undulatory motion driven by their tails. The iguana also streamlines its body somewhat by tucking its legs along its sides. Although the marine iguana is a much slower and less efficient swimmer than a bony fish of equal size, swimming is still a good choice for getting around. The marine iguana expends only 75% as much energy per distance swimming as it does walking. The big challenge is staying warm in the cold Galapagos waters. Small iguanas are both less efficient swimmers and lose body heat faster. This is why you’ll only see the biggest iguanas feeding underwater. (Image credits: N. Sharp; research credit: K. Trillmich and F. Trillmich; J. Videler and B. Nolet; G. Bartholomew)
This is the first post of Galapagos Week here on FYFD. Check back every day for new Galapagos-themed posts!
A rigid ball accelerated by a moving surface can only ever move as fast as the surface propelling it. But that’s not true for squishy objects like a water droplet. The composite image above shows the trajectory of a water droplet launched from a moving superhydrophobic surface. As the surface starts rising, it squishes the droplet like a pancake, triggering a deformation cycle where the droplet will squish and extend repeatedly. How quickly the drop changes shape depends on factors like its size and surface tension. The researchers found that a droplet’s launch was strongly affected by the ratio of the droplet’s shape-changing frequency and the frequency of the plate’s motion. When the drop’s shape changed three times faster than the surface’s motion, it would catapult off the surface with 250% of the kinetic energy of a rigid ball!
Launching elastic balls works the exact same way as droplets, indicating that the phenomenon depends on the way the projectiles deform. The process is similar to jumping on a trampoline. If a trampolinist times her jump just right, she’ll get more energy from the trampoline and fly higher. The droplet does the same when its deformation is properly tuned to its catapult. (Image credit: C. Raufaste et al.; via APS Physics; submitted by Kam-Yung Soh)
Flying fish, strange as it sounds, have aerodynamic prowess comparable to hawks. The fish aren’t true fliers, but they do glide for hundreds of meters using their large pectoral and pelvic fins as wings. Wind tunnel research shows the fish have their maximum lift at an angle of attack around 30-35 degrees, matching their typical take-off angle (top). Their best gliding performance occurs when they’re roughly parallel to the water (middle). The researchers even found that the fish use ground effect to enhance their lift. Although their aerodynamics allow flying fish to get out of reach of their aquatic predators, the fish must be wary of flying too high, as this makes them a target for frigatebirds (bottom). These acrobatic seabirds can’t get wet, but they have some impressive aerodynamics of their own to help make up for it. (Image credit: BBC Earth, source; research credit: H. Park and H. Choi; see also SciAm)
The use of numerical simulations in fluid dynamics has exploded over the past half century with new computational techniques being developed constantly. Most methods involve solving the equations of motion (or an approximation thereof) on a grid of points known as a mesh. To accurately capture the physics, meshes must often be quite closely packed in areas where detail is needed, but they can be more widely spaced in areas where the flow is not changing quickly. An increasingly common technique is adaptive meshing in which the mesh of grid points shifts between time steps; this places more grid points where the flow requires them and removes them from less important areas in order to reduce computational time.
An example of adaptive meshing is shown above. On the left particles are falling into salt water. The colors show the concentration of particles. The right side shows the solid particles and the fluid mesh around them. Notice how the grid shifts as the particles fall. (Image credit: C. Jacobs et al., source)
A thread of mineral oil laid across a pool of water twists and turns like a river run wild. Because the oil has a lower surface tension than the water, Marangoni forces spread it outward (far left). Small variations in the thread make the areas of highest oil concentration start to bend just a bit. Inside the bends, the gradient of surface tension – the difference between the lowest and highest surface tensions – is very high, which pulls at these regions more than others. So bends beget more bends, causing the entire thread to wrinkle. Although the behavior is driven by a completely different process than the one that causes rivers to meander, the end result looks remarkably similar; this is because, in both cases, forces act to make each bend increasingly sinuous. (Image credit: B. Néel et al., source)
Editor’s note: Starting tomorrow I’ll be on a trip that takes me out of range of the Internet until next week. Regular posts are queued up and should post as usual, but we’ll all have to trust Tumblr to handle everything because I won’t be able to check. Thanks!
Earlier this summer, I looked up on a bright, sunny day and saw a quartet of black and white figures soaring overhead. Initially, I thought it might be a formation of kites or unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) because I saw no flapping as the group wheeled about. With the help of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s awesome Merlin app, I was able to identify the soarers as American white pelicans – not a species I’d expected to find flying along the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains! (Turns out, they breed on lakes around here.)
The reason I saw so little flapping is that the birds were riding thermals. As the sun heats the ground, air near the surface warms up and begins to rise due to its buoyancy. Pelicans interested in flying between breeding and foraging grounds will start testing the thermals early in the day, as soon as they begin to form. As the heating continues, the intensity of thermals strengthens and they extend higher into the atmosphere. This is where the birds can really excel at using atmospheric energy for their flight. Pelicans will circle within a thermal until they reach roughly the middle of its height. Then they will glide, gradually losing altitude until they reach another thermal where they can climb without expending their own energy. With a 2.7 meter wingspan and a relatively low drag coefficient, the pelicans can glide and soar remarkably well. Researchers have even suggested using them as a sort of biological UAV for studying atmospheric dynamics! (Image credits: D. Henise, M. Stratmoen; research credit: H. Shannon et al., pdfs – 1, 2)
