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Sheer brilliance

IT’S A STRANGE place to find one of the world’s finest optical engineers. But
there he is, entombed inside a drinks coaster, as dazzling in death as when he
fluttered through the Amazon rainforest. The male Morpho butterfly’s
amazing tricks with light make him popular with manufacturers of novelty
coasters, trays and a whole line of other tacky ornaments. They are also the
reason why generations of physicists have taken a keen interest in
entomology— intrigued by the way the butterfly produces such an intense,
electric blue colour. And they explain why today’s materials scientists have
taken such a shine to butterflies. They would like to borrow a few of their
optical innovations to create anticounterfeiting devices that would thwart the
forgers of bank notes or provide a cheap, paintless way to camouflage military
vehicles.

The Morpho’s iridescent blue is one of nature’s most eyecatching
colours. Henry Bates, the 19th-century English naturalist, reckoned he could
spot a Morpho almost half a kilometre away. More recent observers have
seen their blue flashes from small planes flying over the forest canopy. Yet
despite more than a century of study, physicists are still trying to discover
why the butterfly is so dazzling. The metallic blue of the male Morpho’s
wing is a “structural colour”. It owes its brightness and glitter not to
pigments but to the way the millions of tiny scales covering the surface of its
wings interfere with light. Just how sophisticated an optical apparatus
Morpho has is only now becoming apparent.

Far from the Amazon, in a gloomy basement laboratory at the University of
Exeter, Roy Sambles and members of his Thin-Film Photonics Group are piecing
together the story, one scale at a time. “You can’t understand all the
properties of Morpho’s colour until you study single scales,” says
physicist Pete Vukusic. Sambles and Vukusic and their colleague Chris Lawrence
from the Defence Evaluation and Research Agency (DERA) in Farnborough have found
that these butterflies have evolved an array of special effects to make
themselves as visible as possible.

A Morpho male is an exhibitionist. He wants to be seen, particularly
by other Morpho males. The bright colour is designed to intimidate any
rivals that might flutter into his territory. The more visible he is, the larger
the patch of forest he can defend.

The Morpho’s brilliance is the result of the microscopic
architecture of the scales that cover its wings. The wings of most butterflies
and moths are “tiled” with overlapping scales, thin plates of chitin that slot
neatly into sockets on the wing. Each scale, typically measuring 75 by 200
micrometres and manufactured by a single epidermal cell, is generally etched on
the upper surface with a pattern of fine ridges a few micrometres apart. In the
Morpho butterflies, each of these ridges itself has an elaborate
structure which turns it into a mirror-like surface called a multilayer
reflector.

In cross section, a single ridge resembles a miniature Christmas tree, with
thin branches of transparent chitin sticking out to either side, short branches
at the top and longer ones near the bottom. The surfaces of each branch
interfere with light in the same way as a thin film of oil on water,
transmitting some colours and reflecting others depending on the thickness of
the layer [see “To dazzle or not to dazzle”].

The more branches there are, the brighter the reflected blue. Some species of
Morpho have exploited this phenomenon, making themselves more dazzling
by adding extra branches to their Christmas trees—as Sambles and Vukusic
discovered when they measured the light reflected by single scales. They took
scales from two species of Morpho, the intensely blue M.
rhetenor, and the slightly pearly blue M. didius. By shining a
beam of laser light at a single scale fixed to the tip of a needle and
collecting the reflected light, they found that M. rhetenor’s scale
reflects 70 per cent of the blue light reaching it, an astonishingly high figure
for any natural material. The scale from M. didius reflected 40 per
cent of the blue light falling on it, still more than twice as much as any
natural pigment. The difference between the two species is easily explained: the
brighter butterfly has between 10 and 12 branches on each of its Christmas
trees, while the less dazzling species has between six and eight.

Although the efficiency of the Morpho’s multilayers was something of
a surprise, the team’s painstaking measurements of light reflected from
individual scales turned up something even more remarkable. Somehow, the
butterfly has found a way of reflecting its bright, iridescent colour over an
extremely wide angle, a trick designed to maximise its visibility in the
rainforest.

A characteristic feature of iridescence is that the colour you see depends on
both the angle at which light hits the reflecting surface and the angle you view
it from. When light hits a stack of perfectly parallel thin films, the reflected
rays form a very narrow cone. If Morpho reflected light in this way,
only a butterfly in exactly the right spot in the forest would get the message
to keep out. Morpho’s colour does shift slightly with viewing angle,
from bright blue to violet and eventually ultraviolet—which human eyes
can’t see but which butterflies can. However, Morpho’s blue reflects
across an angle of around 100°, a huge spread for an iridescent colour.

Flashes of blue

“The butterfly wants to be as visible as possible over a very large viewing
angle to increase its chances of being seen by other butterflies,” says Vukusic.
And it seems that these insects have gone to extraordinary lengths to achieve
this. So far, the team has found three different ways in which the butterflies
increase the visibility of their blue flashes.

Although the branches of each tree inside a scale are arranged neatly, they
are not perfectly parallel; some tilt slightly upwards, some slightly downwards.
Because the tilts are irregular, the outgoing blue rays leave at all sorts of
angles, effectively splashing the reflected colour around.

M. didius has a second optical trick that extends the viewing angle still
more. This species has a layer of simple, transparent “glass” scales partially
overlapping the elaborately sculpted “ground” scales. Almost all the white light
hitting a glass scale passes through, but it is diffracted by the tiny ridges on
the surface and, like light glittering off the faces of a cut diamond, it sprays
out and strikes the ground scale beneath from many angles. The blue light
reflected by the ground scales—already spread out by the tilted branch
effect—passes back through the glass scale and is diffracted yet again
before it emerges. Finally, in both M. rhetenor and M. didius,
the fine ridges on the surface of the ground scales help to spread the reflected
light that bit more.

Morphos, of course, are not the only iridescent butterflies. The team are
also investigating a range of other species, from the green Papilios of
Southeast Asia to the European peacock with its glittering purple eye spots.
Every species they look at seems to display its bright colours in a different
way. “Each family seems to have very different structures inside its scales. But
even within a subfamily there are differences,” says Vukusic. The physicists
suspect that butterflies have other nifty ways of manipulating light
too—they may even tinker around with the polarisation of light.

While the optics of these diverse structures are fascinating to physicists,
biologists are equally interested in how butterflies manipulate light. “If you
learn more about the optics, you learn about what the system is doing for the
animal,” says Helen Ghiradella, an entomologist at the State University of New
York at Albany. “These animals do things that engineers have tried and not
succeeded. They are fine-tuning their reflectivity and we haven’t got a reason
for it. But it makes us start thinking.” If they can control visible light, then
what might they be doing with light from other parts of the spectrum? “We just
don’t know how capable these organisms are,” says Ghiradella. Nor do they know
how a single epidermal cell makes a structure of such enormous complexity with
such precision.

Materials scientists are not so interested in how the butterfly does it but
in whether they can copy the structures to produce the same optical effects.
DERA, for instance, is interested in mimicking the structure of butterfly scales
to provide “quick change” camouflage for military vehicles. Repainting a plane
or a fleet of trucks to suit a new area of operation is slow and costly. If you
could cover them with thin plastic sheets incorporating a multilayered structure
that generates a particular colour effect, it would be much easier to switch
shades. It might even be possible to make active camouflage, altering the colour
and sheen simply by adjusting the spacing between the layers. An amphibious
vehicle, for instance, might be made to shimmer like a mirror when on the water,
but switch to a dull green when it moves on land. “We can tweak a lot of
factors, the thickness of the thin film, the separation of the layers and the
angles of the branches,” says Lawrence.

Structures that reflect brilliant colours over long distances and a wide
angle could improve the visibility of safety clothing, road signs and the
screens of laptop computers. They could even end up on the catwalk, as fashion
designers discover they can have a new range of fabrics that shimmer to order or
change colour as the wearer moves.

But the biggest interest in the butterflies’ optical skills comes from banks
and credit card companies seeking better ways to beat counterfeiters. The
growing trend towards plastic banknotes, pioneered in Australia, makes it
practical to include tiny optical devices that change colour when tilted or
turned through a specific angle. These could be made still more complex by
building in polarisation effects, for example, which would only become visible
to a sensor tuned to detect light with a specific polarisation.

“Butterflies use cunning methods to produce colours,” says Lawrence. “It’s
very difficult to copy these structures unless you have an electron microscope
and know what’s going on at the microscale level.” And the more complex the
structure, the harder it is to copy. “I see great potential for this sort of
structure,” says Gary Power of Securency, the company that manufactures
Australian banknotes.

It seems that every difference in structure, no matter how slight, gives
material scientists a potential new tool. In some cases, one part of a complex
structure may turn out to be useful; in others the combination of optical
effects might be what’s wanted. You might want the reflectivity or pure colour
of one structure but the angle spread of another, for instance.

So far the butterflies are still several steps ahead of humans. “Some people
look at the complexity and say it’s too difficult to mimic,” says Lawrence. “But
this presumes that you need to make an exact copy.” Often, you can achieve the
effect you want by picking out particular features of the structure. “The
butterflies are pointing out useful techniques rather than giving us absolute
blueprints,” he says. “They offer us a tool kit to work with.”

THE THICKNESS of a layer—whether a film of oil or a sliver of
chitin—dictates which wavelengths of light it reflects most strongly. As
light passes through a transparent film, some is reflected at the top surface;
the rest travels on until it reaches the lower surface when a little more is
reflected. Since this light has travelled further, it may have a different phase
to the light reflected from the top surface.

This phase difference depends on the colour of the reflected light, and on
the thickness of the transparent film. If two reflected rays of green light, for
instance, are in phase, they combine and produce a brighter green by the process
of constructive interference. If they are out of phase, they cancel each other
out and green light isn’t reflected. The result: some colours will be reflected
brightly, and others will not.

In the Morpho’s case, the layers of chitin are about 70 nanometres thick and
are separated by an air space around 100 nanometres wide—dimensions that
reflect mostly blue with a little ultraviolet. “Blue light is just the right
wavelength to bounce off each branch of the Christmas tree, and each one
reinforces the next,” says Vukusic. “Other colours pass through the layers and
their energy is absorbed by the wing beneath.”

Structure of a Morpho's butterfly wing

To dazzle or not to dazzle

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