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)
When air bubbles rise through a liquid, they scavenge dust, viruses, microplastics, and other impurities as they go. Once at the surface, these contaminant-covered bubbles thin and burst, generating many tiny droplets that arc through the air above. You’re likely familiar with the sight and sensation from a glass of champagne or soda.
Here, researchers have stacked two sets of sequential images to illustrate this complicated flowscape. Under the surface, a trio of photos are stacked to show bubbles rising and gathering at the surface. In the air, the researchers have stacked thirty sequential images, which together trace out the parabolic arcs of droplets sprayed by the bursting bubbles. (Image credit: J. Do and B. Wang)
In volcanic eruptions, collisions between ash particles can sometimes build up enough electric charge for lightning to arc through the plume. Scientists have long debated how this happens–it’s not obvious that insulating materials like oxides would build up electric charges through contact, especially when dealing with substances of the same material. It’s not like rubbing a balloon against your hair, where each material–and its tendency to hold a charge–differs.
To test how charges build on identical materials, a team of scientists used acoustic levitation to repeatedly bounce a silica bead against an identically treated silica plate, observing their charge build-up. Then they would take one of the pieces–either the sphere or the plate–and treat it to strip away the film of molecules that naturally adsorb onto the surface over time. Then they bounced the treated and untreated surfaces off one another again.
The result was–pardon the pun–striking. Whichever surface had been treated to remove adsorbates charged more negatively the second time around. Looking more closely at what they were removing, the team found their surfaces were mostly adsorbing carbon molecules. And if they iteratively removed the carbon from both the sphere and plate, they could no longer charge the two through collision. It seems that the key to charging two oxides off one another is actually the difference between the incidental amounts of carbon on their surfaces! (Image credit: volcano – M. Szeglat, experiment – G. Grosjean et al.; research credit: G. Grosjean et al.; via Gizmodo)
A slight change in perspective can do wonders. In this video, the Slow Mo Guys look at a burning flame from below. They accomplish this by mounting a gas grill upside-down. This small change means that buoyancy can’t simply lift heat and exhaust gases away from the flame source. Instead, the flow pushes out and around the edges of the grill.
The views are, as always, amazing. The billowing flames are mesmerizing–often closer to laminar than turbulent. And the added spectacle of cinnamon combusting in the later segments really does make for the kind of visuals you’d expect in a sci-fi movie. (Video and image credit: The Slow Mo Guys)
Meltwater braids like a river delta in this gorgeous image from photographer Stuart Chape. It earned the Silver distinction from the World Nature Photography Awards in their “Planet Earth’s landscapes and environments” category. Water takes tortuous paths like these as it tries to balance the local incline, erosion, deposition, and flow rate. (Image credit: S. Chape/WNPA; via Colossal)
We usually think of surface tension turning droplets into spheres in order to minimize their area. But spheres aren’t the only shape surface tension can enforce. Here, researchers suspend tiny droplets of oil in a soapy fluid. At the right temperature, these droplets form a crystalline surface while the fluid within remains liquid. As in the fully liquid droplet, surface tension tries to minimize the shell’s surface energy, enabling it to take on many different shapes.
In this study, researchers demonstrate that the shell-enclosed droplets can even change, reversibly, from a hexagon to a six-pointed star and back. The transformation is shown above, in an experiment that gradually changes the droplet’s temperature–and, thus, its surface tension.
Although shape changes similar to these have been described before, this experiment was the first where the shell’s defects–the vertices of the hexagon–don’t shift during the transformation. (Video, image, and research credit: C. Quilliet et al.; via APS)
When particle-laden fluids like a mudslide flow downhill, even well-mixed particles can wind up separating. To explore how this works, researchers put glass spheres–of two different sizes but equal density–into silicone oil and let it flow down an incline. Their initially well-mixed oil soon turned red as the larger red particles overtook the smaller blue particles near the front. Looking at the flow from the side, the team observed a Brazil-nut-effect-like behavior where the larger particles move toward the top of the flow. That’s where the flow speed is fastest, and the particles are congregating there despite being denser than the oil carrying them! (Video and image credit: Y. Ba et al.)
In recent years, smoke from powerful wildfires has raised questions among atmospheric scientists by always swirling in the same direction. The confounding structures were observed in the stratosphere, where smoke injected at around 15 kilometers in altitude absorbed sunlight and rose further, up to about 35 kilometers of altitude. The rising column of fluid would stretch, causing any residual rotation to get stronger and form vortices.
None of this was a surprise. What was surprising is that all of the observed vortices were anticyclones, when theory–at least for a heat-driven vortex from a stationary heating source–called for a cyclone-anticyclone pair.
Researchers looked at how a self-heating (and, therefore, moving) source would rotate. They concluded that this, too, would create a pair of vortices–one cyclonic and one anticyclonic–but the anticyclone would be stronger than the cyclone that trailed behind it. By further considering the vertical shear the vortex pair would encounter, the researchers found that the trailing cyclone could get stripped away, leaving behind only the anticyclone–matching our wildfire observations. (Image credit: J. Stevens/NASA Earth Observatory; research credit: K. Shah and P. Haynes 1, 2; via APS)
If you fill a test tube with water and drop it, the impact causes a pressure wave that travels up from the bottom and creates a focused jet (left). If the impact is strong enough, cavitation bubbles form at the bottom and generate a sheet-like jet around the central one, like a crown (center and right). (Image credit: H. Watanabe et al.)
