Water droplets cling to spine-covered plant life in this series from photographer Tom Leighton. The hairs are hydrophobic — notice how spherical the drops appear. Many plants make parts of their leaves and stems hydrophobic in order to redirect water toward their roots, where it can be taken in. Others use hair-like awns to collect and draw in dew that supplements their water capture. (Image credit: T. Leighton; via Colossal)
As manta rays swim, they’re constantly doing two important — but not necessarily compatible — things: getting oxygen to breathe and collecting plankton to eat. That requires some expert filtering to send food particles toward their stomach and oxygen-rich water to their gills. Manta rays do this with a built-in filter that resembles an industrial crossflow filter. Researchers built a filter inspired by a manta ray’s geometry, and found that it has three different flow states, based on the flow speed. At low speeds, flow moves freely down the filter’s channels; in a manta, this would carry both water and particles toward the gills. At medium speeds, vortices start to form at the entrance to the filter channels. This sends large particles downstream (toward a manta’s digestive system) while water passes down the channels. At even greater speeds, each channel entrance develops a vortex. That allows water to pass down the filter channels but keeps particles out. (Image credit: manta – N. Weldingh, filter – X. Mao et al.; research credit: X. Mao et al.; via Ars Technica)
Aircraft typically use a vertical tail to keep the craft from rolling or yawing. Birds, on the other hand, maneuver their wings and tail feathers to counter unwanted motions. Researchers found that the list of necessary adjustments is quite small: just 4 for the tail and 2 for the wings. Implementing those 6 controllable degrees of freedom on their bird-inspired PigeonBot II allowed the biorobot to fly steadily, even in turbulent conditions, without a rudder. Adapting such flight control to the less flexible surfaces of a typical aircraft will take time and creativity, but the savings in mass and drag could be worth it. (Image credit: E. Chang/Lentink Lab; research credit: E. Chang et al.; via Physics Today)
A fish‘s mucus layer is critical; it protects from pathogens, reduces drag in the water, and, in some cases, protects against predators. But little is known about how mucus could affect terrestrial locomotion in species like the northern snakehead, which can breathe out of the water and move across land. So researchers explored the snakehead’s mucus layer by measuring the force required to drag them (and two other non-terrestrial species) across different surfaces.
The team tested the same, freshly euthanized fish twice: once with its mucus layer intact and again once the mucus was washed off. Unsurprisingly, the fish’s friction was much lower with its mucus. But they also found that the snakehead was slipperier than either the scaled carp or the scale-free catfish. The biologists suggest that the snakehead could have evolved a slipperier mucus to help it move more easily on land, thereby extending the distance it can cover.
As a fluid dynamicist, I think fish mucus sounds like a great new playground for the rheologists among us. (Image and research credit: F. Lopez-Chilel and N. Bressman; via PopSci)
Sneezing and coughing can spread pathogens both through large droplets and through tiny, airborne aerosols. Understanding how the nasal cavity shapes the aerosol cloud a sneeze produces is critical to understanding and predicting how viruses could spread. Toward that end, researchers built a “sneeze simulator” based on the upper respiratory system’s geometry. With their simulator, the team mimicked violent exhalations both with the nostrils open and closed — to see how that changed the shape of the aerosol cloud produced.
The researchers found that closed nostrils produced a cloud that moved away along a 18 degree downward tilt, whereas an open-nostril cloud followed a 30-degree downward slope. That means having the nostrils open reduces the horizontal spread of a cloud while increasing its vertical spread. Depending on the background flow that will affect which parts of a cloud get spread to people nearby. (Image and research credit: N. Catalán et al.; via Physics World)
Gathering oil after a spill is fiendishly difficult. Deploying booms to corral and soak up oil at the water surface only catches a fraction of the spill. A recent study instead turns to nature to inspire its oil filter. The team was inspired by the Venus’ flower basket, a type of deep-sea sponge with a multi-scale structure that excels at pulling nutrients out of complex flow fields. The outer surface of the sponge has helical ridges that break up the turbulence of any incoming flow, helping the sponge stay anchored by reducing the force needed to resist the flow. Beneath the ridges, the sponge’s skeleton has a smaller, checkered pattern that further breaks up the flow as it enters into the sponge’s hollow body. Within this cavity, the flow is slower and swirling, giving plenty of time for nutrients in the water to collide with the nutrient-gathering flagellum lining the sponge.
By mimicking this three-level structure, the team built a capable oil-capturing device that can filter even emulsified oil from the water. They swapped the flagellum with a (replaceable) oil-adsorbing material and found that their filter captured more than 97% of oil across a range of flow conditions. (Image credit: NOAA; research credit: Y. Yu et al.; via Physics World)
Common terns are gregarious sea birds that cruise low over the water to fish. When they spot prey, they will dip down to grab a fish from the surface, or they will fold their wings to plunge-dive to depths of half a meter. Compared to gannets and boobies, these are slower, shallower dives that involve less impact risk. Presumably the birds’ choice of dive height reflects the typical swim depth of their preferred fish. (Image credit: N. Kovo/WPOTY; via Colossal)
Despite spending their lives in and around frigid water, snow, and ice, polar bears are rarely troubled by ice building up on their fur. This natural anti-icing property is one Inuits have long taken advantage of by using polar bear fur in hunting stools and sandals. In a new study, researchers looked at just how “icephobic” polar bear fur is and what properties make it so.
The key to a polar bear’s anti-icing is sebum — a mixture of cholesterol, diacylglycerols, and fatty acids secreted from glands near each hair’s root. When sebum is present on the hair, the researchers found it takes very little force to remove ice; in contrast, fur that had been washed with a surfactant that stripped away the sebum clung to ice.
The researchers are interested in uncovering which specific chemical components of sebum impart its icephobicity. That information could enable a new generation of anti-icing treatments for aircraft and other human-made technologies; right now, many anti-icing treatments use PFAS, also known as “forever chemicals,” that have major disadvantages to human and environmental health. (Image credit: H. Mager; research credit: J. Carolan et al.; via Physics World)
Sunflower blossoms face east, presenting their blooms to the morning sun and the bees that come exploring with it. But before they grow their massive flower, each plant spends the day following the sun, greeting it in the east and tracking it westward all day. Overnight, the plant reorients eastward to start over again. The motion occurs thanks to the plant internally shifting its water supply. During the day, it swells cells on the east-facing side of the plant, gradually lengthening that side and causing the plant to tip westward. At night, it switches to swelling the west-facing side. Why go to all this trouble? By following the sun, the plant is able to photosynthesize and grow more effectively. (Video and image credit: Deep Look)
Trees, blood vessels, and rivers all follow branching patterns that make their pieces look very similar to their whole. We call this repeating, self-similar shape a fractal, and this Be Smart video explores why these branching patterns are so common, both in living and non-living systems. For trees, packing a large, leafy surface area onto the smallest amount of wood makes sense; the tree needs plenty of solar energy (and water and carbon dioxide) to photosynthesize, and it has to be efficient about how much it grows to get that energy. Similarly, our lungs and blood vessels need to pack a lot of surface area into a small space to support the diffusion that lets us move oxygen and waste through our bodies. Non-living systems, like the branches of viscous fingers or river deltas or the branching of cracks and lightning, rely on different physics but wind up with the same patterns because they, too, have to balance forces that scale with surface area and ones that scale with volume. (Video and image credit: Be Smart)
