Wet fur forms a spiral of spiky hairs in this image by photographer Ben Dalgleish. For thin and flexible fibers like hair, a little moisture lets them clump together, forming stiffer (but still flexible) shapes. The technical term for this water-meets-flexible-solid phenomenon is elastocapillarity, and it lets you do things like wind a wire with a bubble. It also makes a big difference when washing hair, including in space. (Image credit: B. Dalgleish/BWPA; via Colossal)
Our ears, like those of many other animals, convert mechanical signals to electrical ones, through a Rube-Goldberg-esque series of transformations. External sound waves make their way down the soft tube of the ear canal, which funnels them to a thin-walled cone, the eardrum, that’s about half as large as a dime. Here, the vibrating air pushes against the cone’s membrane, and those vibrations travel onward through a linked trio of small bones that amplify the vibration’s amplitude.
The last of these bones presses against an even smaller, oval-shaped membrane. As the bone moves, it shakes the membrane, sending waves through the liquid on its other side. Those waves travel down the spirals of the tiny, pea-sized cochlea, named for a snail shell’s shape. As the waves move through the liquid, they bend bundles of hair-like strands back and forth, like tall grass waving in a breeze. The bending triggers a chemical that binds to nerves at the base of the bundles, sending an electrical signal through the nerve and into the brain.
But the hair-like bundles, known as stereocilia, are also able to amplify incoming vibrations. In this case, the bundles in the outer portion of the cochlea expend energy to bend more than the incoming vibrations naturally make them move. This bending amplifies the fluid motion that gets transmitted to stereocilia further down the line; it’s those bundles that will make the final conversion to an electrical signal the brain receives. (Image credit: B. Kachar; research credit: Y. Thipmaungprom et al.; via APS)
Fish detect turbulence in the water around them; among other things, this helps them avoid colliding with objects. Here, researchers are looking to understand how fish interact with underwater turbines. Experiments give them a set of trajectories that actual fish follow when dealing with the experimental turbine. But to understand what the fish is detecting, the researchers build a digital facsimile of the turbine and use Large Eddy Simulation (LES) to calculate the turbine’s wake.
By overlaying the fish trajectories onto the simulated flow structures, they can better understand what flows the fish is and is not comfortable with. That knowledge helps engineers design turbines with smaller ecological impact. (Video and image credit: H. Seyedzadeh et al.)
Although water can freeze below 0 degrees Celsius, it requires a little help–in the form of a nucleation site–to do so. Often temperatures must dip well below 0 degrees Celsius for droplets to become ice. But a new study shows that at least one fungus forms proteins that help the process along.
The proteins come from the Mortierellaceae fungal family, by way of a bacterial species some hundreds of thousands of years ago or more. In experiments, adding the fungal protein helped water freeze 10 or more degrees Celsius sooner than it otherwise would.
The authors note that there are many possible applications for this freezing additive; it could help preserve food or cells without requiring lower freezing temperatures that could damage delicate tissues. It could also serve as a cloud seeding chemical in place of toxic silver iodide particles. (Image and research credit: R. Eufemio et al.; via Gizmodo; see also V. Tech)
Photographer Chris Perani is fascinated by the microstructures of insect wings, which he captures in “extreme macro” through focus stacking–letting us see wings in glorious micron-scale detail. In addition to giving insects their brilliant colors and irridescence, these structures serve another key role: they help insects stay dry. In a world where contact with water is unavoidable, insects have instead evolved to trap air in the gaps of their wings, letting water slide off instead of sticking. (Image credit: C. Perani; via Colossal)
Relatively simple visual and hydrodynamic signals are enough to make digital fish school in ways that resemble living ones. Here, researchers look at what happens when well-behaved schools of fish get too big. The researchers first demonstrate that their schools behave reasonably at one hundred members, either in a schooling configuration or a group milling around a central region.
At one thousand fish, the schools are still reasonably coherent and sensible. But at fifty thousand fish, the picture is drastically different. Neither schooling nor milling groups are able to remain together. They fracture and scatter into smaller groupings. (Video and image credit: H. Hang et al.)
A toad swims across a pond in this award-winning image from photographer Paul Hobson. The shot was actually captured from below the water, with the camera kept dry in a glass housing. Although the frog appears to be mid-leap, the light-distorting ripples around its feet hint at the flow its kick generated. It’s reminiscent of the vortices left by water striders as they move. (Image credit: P. Hobson/BWPA; via Colossal)
The field of active matter looks at the collective motion of particles and organisms–how birds flock and fish school. In systems of “dry” squirmers–those that have no hydrodynamic interactions with one another–clumps of squirmers can form with empty spaces in between them. This is known as motility-induced phase separation, or MIPS. Researchers wondered whether microswimmers in a fluid–which do produce hydrodynamic forces that can affect one another–would also show MIPS.
In a new study, researchers show, instead, that hydrodynamic interactions between swimmers will prevent (or destroy) these clumps. Through a combination of theoretical work and simulation, the authors found that translational flows between swimmers swept the swimmers out of clumps as they formed. Rotational flows between swimmers made them able to change direction faster, which also kept stable clumps from forming. (Image and research credit: T. Zhou and J. Brady; via APS)
Convection isn’t always driven by temperature. Here, researchers explore the convective patterns formed by Thiovulum bacteria. These bacteria are negatively buoyant, meaning they will sink if they aren’t swimming. They also have an asymmetric moment of inertia, so any flow moving past them tends to affect their swimming direction.
When let loose in a Hele-Shaw cell with a oxygen levels that decrease with depth, the bacteria create complex convection-like patterns. They swim slowly upward in wide, slow plumes and sink in denser, narrow plumes. In other areas, they form large-scale rotating vortices. (Video and image credit: O. Kodio et al.)
If you’ve ever seen crashing waves glowing blue, you’ve been treated to bioluminescence. Although many creatures can bioluminesce, tiny dinoflagellates–a type of marine phytoplankton–are one of the easiest to spot. These microscopic organisms create a flash of light in response to viscous stresses. Their response to flow-induced stresses is so robust that they can be used to visualize stress fields.
In a new study, researchers explored how turbulence affects the dinoflagellate’s luminescence. They mathematically modeled the dinoflagellate as an elastic dumbbell that emitted light based on its extent and rate of deformation. Then they explored how this model dinoflagellate behaved in different types of turbulent flows. They found that the fluctuations and intermittency of turbulent flows both encouraged the radiant displays. (Image credit: T. McKinnon; research credit: P. Kumar and J. Picardo)
