Biomimicry: Nature's R&D Department (and We're the Interns)
18 August 2025 · Rich Bartlett
Nature has had 3.8 billion years of R&D. Every solution it's arrived at has been tested, iterated, and refined by the harshest selection process imaginable. So when we talk about biomimicry — designing by learning from nature — we're not talking about aesthetics. We're talking about borrowing the world's best-tested engineering.
Here's how that translates into learning design.
Clean entry points: the kingfisher beak
The Shinkansen bullet train used to create a sonic boom every time it exited a tunnel — loud enough to disturb communities miles away. The fix came from an engineer who was also a birdwatcher. He redesigned the nose based on the kingfisher's beak: a long, tapered shape that moves between two different mediums (air and water) with minimal disturbance.
In learning design, entry points are your kingfisher beak. A jarring start — too much too fast, ambiguous instructions, no orientation — creates cognitive "sonic booms" before the learning has even begun. Clean entry points (clear goals, a learner-facing overview, low-stakes warm-ups) help learners transition from their day into your course without turbulence.
Micro-grips for progress: gecko tape
A gecko can hang from a glass ceiling using nothing but molecular adhesion. Each toe has millions of microscopic setae — tiny hairs that create van der Waals forces through sheer surface area. No single hair does much. Together, they're almost impossible to dislodge.
Micro-assessments work the same way. Individual check-ins, reflection prompts, and low-stakes quizzes don't seem like much in isolation. But they create accumulated traction — each one reinforcing understanding a little more, until the overall grip is strong. This is also the logic behind spaced retrieval practice: distributed contact beats a single intense session.
Self-regulating systems: termite mounds
Termite mounds in Zimbabwe maintain a near-constant internal temperature despite extreme external heat — not with mechanical systems, but through a network of passive ventilation channels that open and close dynamically. The architect Mick Pearce used this principle to design the Eastgate Centre in Harare: a building with no conventional air conditioning that uses 90% less energy than comparable structures.
The lesson for learning design: passive scaffolding beats constant intervention. When you build reflection prompts, peer discussion, self-assessment, and feedback into the structure itself, you don't need to be there to regulate the environment. The course becomes self-correcting.
Purposeful bumps: whale fin turbines
The humpback whale's flippers have bumpy leading edges — tubercles — that seem counterintuitive. Shouldn't a smooth surface be more aerodynamic? The opposite turns out to be true: the bumps create small vortices that delay stall and improve lift efficiency at high angles. Wind turbines designed with tubercle-inspired blades are significantly more efficient.
In learning design, the bumps are productive struggle. Desirable difficulties — problems slightly beyond current competence, retrieval practice, interleaved topics — feel slower and harder. But they create the conditions for deeper encoding and better long-term transfer. Smooth, easy content keeps learners comfortable; purposeful bumps make them better.
The bigger idea
Nature doesn't design for disruption. It designs for fit — solutions that are tightly adapted to their context, resilient under pressure, and efficient over time. That's a good design brief for learning too.
Instead of asking "how do we disrupt learning?" — maybe the smarter question is: "what has already been optimised over 3.8 billion years, and how do we apply it here?"
We're the interns. Nature's the lead designer.