Mono Lake, three times saltier than the ocean, is an extreme environment by any measure. But for the alkali fly, it’s home. This extremophile insect dives into the lake, protected by a bubble sheath, to eat and lay eggs. The fly’s wings and body are covered in tiny, waxed hairs that repel water. That traps a bubble of air around the insect, allowing it to breathe. Fresh oxygen can diffuse into the bubble from the water, replenishing the supply. (Image and video credit: Deep Look)
Springtails are tiny hexapods found living on the air-water interface. Like other creatures living at the interface, they sometimes need to make a quick escape. For the springtail, that means a high-flying leap, driven by their fork-shaped furcula. The springtail soars into the air, where it contorts its body and uses aerodynamic forces — along with a droplet it carries on its belly — to orient itself. For landing, it uses that droplet as a sticky anchor that helps it adhere to water (or ground) instead of bouncing. Nailing that landing sets it up to make another daring escape as quickly as needed. (Video and image credit: Deep Look; research credit: V. Ortega-Jimenez et al.)
“Emerald and Stone” is filmmaker Thomas Blanchard’s tribute to the music of Brian Eno. The short film is made, as Blanchard puts it, with “inks and painting,” but I suspect there’s some oil in there, too, to coat the droplets we see. Much of the movement is likely driven by surface tension variations in the background fluid. I love the effect this has on the droplets. If you watch closely, some of them appear to rotate like a miniature planet; others have counter-rotating sections within the drop. The difference, I suspect, is one of scale: I think the smaller drops rotate altogether while larger ones develop more complex internal flows. (Video and image credit: T. Blanchard)
Colors stream and mix in Rus Khasanov’s short film “Discovery.” Droplet-like liquid lenses float in the mixture until ethanol or other ingredients cause them to spontaneously rupture, sending their interior flowing outward until the lens reaches a new equilibrium. Gradients in surface tension guide Marangoni flows across the screen. There’s never-ending beauty in the world of macro fluids. (Video and image credit: R. Khasanov)
Ruslan Khasanov’s “Space Iris” explores the similarities between nebulae and eyes. Made entirely with common fluids like paint, soap, and alcohol, the film shows off the gorgeous possibilities of surface-tension- and density-driven instabilities. Marangoni flows abound! I even see some hints of solutal convection, perhaps? (Video and image credit: R. Khasanov; via Colossal)
Swimming often results in water getting stuck in our ear canals. The narrow space, combined with the waxy surface, is excellent at trapping small amounts of water. If left in place, that excess fluid distorts hearing, can cause pain, and may eventually lead to an ear infection. So most people’s common response is to tilt their head sideways and shake it or jump to knock the water out. This recent study looks at just how much acceleration is needed to dislodge that water.
The team built an artificial ear based on the shape of a human’s ear canal and observed how much acceleration was needed to knock the water out. The answer? Quite a bit. As seen above, nearly 8g of acceleration was enough to distort the interface of the water in the ear canal, but it didn’t move the water out.
At higher accelerations — above 20 times the acceleration due to gravity – the air-water interface distorts enough to get the water to flow. But accelerations that large are enough to potentially damage brain tissues.
The problem is worse for children and babies, whose tiny ear canals necessitate even larger accelerations. For them, shaking hard enough to remove water could cause real damage. Instead, a couple drops of vinegar or alcohol in the ear will lower the surface tension and make the fluid easier to remove. (Image credit: top – J. Flavia, others – S. Kim et al.; research credit: S. Kim et al.; submitted by Sunny J.)
A blob of sunflower oil floating on soapy water forms a disk known as a liquid lens. But add some dyed ethanol and things take a turn. The lens rapidly expands and distorts as the ethanol and soapy water meet. These surface flows are driven by the imbalance of surface tension between the different liquids. The liquid lens deforms and abruptly ruptures, releasing dye and ethanol before rebounding into a stable lens again. Adding more ethanol to the lens will repeat the cycle. (Image credit: C. Kalelkar and P. Dey; research credit: D. Maity et al.)
Nature is full of cilia, hairs, and similar flexible structures. Unsurprisingly, flows interact with these structures very differently than with smooth surfaces. Here, researchers investigate flow in a channel lined with flexible, hair-like plates. Initially, the channel is filled with oil and dark particles that help visualize the flow. Then, they pump water into the setup.
As the water intrudes, it forms an interface with the oil. That interface is powerful enough to bend individual hairs in the system. When the hair bends far enough, it can touch its neighbor, sealing the oil inside the gap between them. Along the length of the channel, this behavior leads to trapped pockets of oil that never drain, no matter how much water flows by. (Image and research credit: C. Ushay et al.)
Inspired by a simulation, Steve Mould asks a great question in this video: can water solve a maze? Yes — with some caveats. Steve makes two different maze patterns — a simple and a complex path — in two different sizes. With the small, simple-path version, the water immediately follows the correct path without taking any wrong turns. What keeps it on the right path seems to be a combination of air pressure and surface tension. In the dead-end passages, the air has nowhere to go in order to allow the water in. So the pressure of the trapped air and the narrowness of the passages (which allows surface tension to help hold the water in place) keeps the water out of the false paths.
With the larger mazes, the water is able to take some false turns as it seeks the lowest possible path. But after awhile the incorrect region fills and the water takes the next lowest path available, which eventually leads it to the outlet.
Toward the end of the video, Steve notes that the large mazes sometimes stop flowing, even though water is still in the reservoir. I’ll quibble slightly here with his explanation, though; I don’t think surface tension is playing as much of a role in this stoppage as friction. The water is basically being driven through a long, narrow pipe, which means quite a lot of friction between it and the walls. Just as you need a certain driving pressure to keep water in a pipe flowing, the maze needs a high enough driving pressure to keep the water going. The point at which drainage stops is the point where the upstream pressure (caused by the depth of the reservoir above the maze) is equal to the pressure lost due to friction in the pipe. All in all, it’s a very cool experiment and a video well-worth watching! (Video and image credit: S. Mould)
Without surfactants to stabilize them, bubbles don’t last long at room temperature. But adding a little heat changes the picture. When heated, the bubbles get stabilized by a thermal gradient that lifts fluid toward the bubble’s peak, where it cools and gathers. Eventually, the cold fluid grows heavy enough to sink down the side of the bubble (in either a constant stream or occasional drips); with warm fluid getting pulled up to replace it (via the Marangoni effect), the process repeats and the bubble lives on. (Video credit: S. Nath et al.; see also)