Mr. Stinky Adventure

On May 15, I went to see a big, smelly plant. This is how it happened.

The Fairchild Tropical Gardens in Miami is home to an Amorphophallus titanum plant, or more commonly a Titan Arum. A native of Sumatra in equitorial Africa, this rare species grows at as many as five inches a day to produce a bloom that can be as tall as seven feet. It flowers only rarely, and perhaps this is a good thing. When in full bloom, the Titan releases a powerful odor to attract pollinators. It smells like carrion. A lot like carrion, so much so that it was once described as "rotting elephant corpse," and at its peak, it can cause some people to become nausous. The Titan at the Fairchild Gardens is named, appropriately, Mr. Stinky. It is the first Titan in America to bloom more than once (it was previously thought that Titans only bloomed once). In 1998, Mr. Stinky was also the first Titan to bloom in the U.S. in more than 60 years. The plants are very sensitive and difficult to raise successfully. With such occurances being almost as rare as the chance to see a comet, it was impossible to pass up Mr. Stinky.

The road to Mr. Stinky, Alligator Alley.

Somewhere in this concrete jungle, Mr. Stinky awaits.

Near the entrance to the gardens is a cluster of interesting-looking trees and plants.

This is not the path to Mr. Stinky. Mr. Stinky lives in the conservatory, but it would have been cool if it was.

Instead, it led to "the Sunken Gardens," where a little green heron was hunting minnows.

Back on the way to Mr. Stinky, I passed many different bromeliads.

Many were in bloom.

And they produce distincive, though odorless, flowers of their own.

There were also other random flowers to see, like this one, which grew from what looked like a banana tree.

Inside the conservatory more bromeliads and hanging orchids waited.

But the people were clustered around...

Mr. Stinky.

From behind Mr. Stinky was also impressive. Because it had been more than eight hours after Mr. Stinky had bloomed, the famous stench was only faint, and it came and went coyly, depending on where you stood. It was, yes, just like dead rotting animal smell.

Craig M. Allen, the man responsible for growing Mr. Stinky, waters his baby as bystanders look on. A TV crew was there as well, asking the crowd (which complied) to turn to the camera and say, in unison, "Pee-yew!"; I could have been on the Miami six o' clock news.

A final look, gazing up, at the incredible, awe-inspiring Mr. Stinky.

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