Rare Corpse Flower Bloom at Mount Holyoke Attracts Crowds with Its Infamous ‘Rotting Flesh’ Aroma

SOUTH HADLEY, Mass. – The moment one steps into the verdant, Victorian-era greenhouse, they’re met with an unexpected scent. Some liken it to the acrid smell of sulfur, reminiscent of rotten eggs, while others are transported back to high school biology class, recalling the dissection of a bird. Another comparison is a soiled diaper left to bake under the sun.

“I knew it would be unpleasant,” admitted Nyx DelPrado, a freshman at Mount Holyoke College, who ventured to the Talcott Greenhouse this week to witness the rare blooming of a corpse flower. “But it genuinely smelled like decaying flesh,” DelPrado added with a chuckle, her nose scrunched in distaste.

The corpse flower, scientifically known as Amorphophallus titanum, is a rare botanical wonder famed for its overpowering stench. Hailing from the Sumatran rainforests, this plant’s bloom is both infrequent and short-lived, emitting a noxious odor designed to mimic rotting flesh to lure pollinators like flies and beetles. Affectionately dubbed “Pangy,” this plant made its initial bloom at Mount Holyoke College in 2023, and its latest appearance has captivated visitors eager to experience — and endure — its ephemeral show.

Though it seems like a singular blossom, the spectacle is actually an inflorescence: a collection of numerous tiny flowers at the base of a towering central spadix, all enveloped by a rich purple, velvety spathe. While this towering display wilts within days, the plant itself remains dormant underground, ready to bloom again in future seasons.

Tom Clark, the director and curator at the Mount Holyoke College Botanic Garden, explained that the plant’s notorious aroma is crucial for its survival, serving an evolutionary role that has sparked a myriad of colorful descriptions from those who encounter it.

“A few people who have come in since have described the smell as being unbearable, tangy, like a trash can — it’s overwhelming,” Clark said. “But that odor is there for a purpose. It’s there to attract pollinators, flies in particular.”

The timing of corpse flower blooms is difficult to predict, often following years of dormancy. Over the past six weeks, Pangy grew rapidly, at times shooting up several inches a day before unfurling. The flower finally opened overnight Monday, and he and other staffers were met with its powerful scent as soon as they got to work the next day.

“Walking through the front door, we could smell it,” he said. “As we walked back to the greenhouse where it’s growing, the smell became stronger and stronger. It was just overwhelming — literally unbearable — to be back there with it. If you weren’t aware of this plant and walked into the greenhouse, you’d say, ‘What died in here?’”

The spectacle drew visitors from near and far, including Michael Breton, who drove two hours and took a vacation day to see the bloom after tracking news alerts for years.

“If you see a news article, and it’s from two days ago, it’s gone, so you gotta run quick,” Breton said. He compared the scent to “a stinky diaper that’s been left out in the sun,” adding that despite the odor, the plant was “bright, beautiful and colorful. It’s a lovely plant.”

Others found the smell more familiar than shocking.

“I would say it smells kind of like a compost pile, a little bit like a working farm,” said Caroline Murray, a senior. “I’m from Vermont, so I’m very used to the smell of the farm and manure.”

Clark said the bloom highlights the broader mission of the Talcott Greenhouse, which he called a “plant museum” that houses about 2,000 plant species — a small fraction of the estimated 350,000 to 400,000 plant species worldwide.

“When anyone comes to the greenhouse, it’s an opportunity to engage them with some facet of the plant world,” he said. “When it’s a plant that’s so dramatic as the corpse flower, it’s this special opportunity to impress upon them the diversity and some of the amazing adaptations that plants have to survive in their environment in unique ways.”

By midday Tuesday, the odor had begun to dissipate as greenhouse vents were opened, offering visitors a less intense — though still memorable — experience. After the brief flowering period, the plant will gradually deteriorate and collapse. Because corpse flowers cannot pollinate themselves, seeds will only form if pollen from another titan arum is available.

For Namuuna Negi, a junior, the fleeting nature of the bloom added to the experience.

“The impermanence of it, I think. People like to be in on what’s happening,” Negi said. “If they hear something’s going to die soon, they want to go see it before that happens so they can talk about it later.”