As the Titan Arum, or "corpse flower," begins to bloom at the Sydney Botanic Gardens, the air will soon be thick with a heavy, unsettling fragrance—the smell of decay. This stench, strong and pungent, is not an accident. It is, in fact, a carefully crafted aroma, one that draws creatures who thrive on death. Known as "carrion flowers," these plants rely on the scent of rotting flesh to attract their pollinators—flies and beetles that feast on the decomposing bodies of animals. The beauty of these flowers lies not in their delicate perfumes but in their dark, primal allure—a fragrant invitation to the underworld of nature.

Carrion flowers, with their stinky aromas, defy our usual expectations of what a flower should smell like. Most flowers entice with the promise of sweet, heady fragrances, beckoning bees, butterflies, and humans alike. But for the carrion flowers, fragrance serves a more utilitarian role, designed not to charm, but to call forth those creatures that find their life’s work in decay. These flowers don’t just smell bad for the sake of it; their scent is a strategy—a survival tactic in the evolutionary arms race of pollination.

The odour of carrion flowers is largely composed of sulphur compounds—dimethyl disulphide, cadaverine, and putrescine—all of which mimic the smell of rotting flesh. This is the scent that pollinators such as blowflies, flesh flies, and carrion beetles seek out. In the dark and damp places where these flowers often grow, the scent of death is an unmistakable signal. To the insects, it is a familiar, even attractive, smell, and they are drawn to the flowers in hopes of laying their eggs in a carcass. Instead, they find themselves unknowingly transferring pollen, thus ensuring the flowers' reproductive success.