The distinctive scent of the Bradford pear tree isn't exactly what you'd imagine based on its name.

The Bradford pear tree's odor might not match your expectations if you haven't previously encountered it.

This ornamental tree is visually striking, with fluffy white blossoms in the spring and vivid red foliage in the fall. Once, it was the favored choice of landscaping planners in American subdivisions.

It turns out that the tree has numerous flaws — some of which are quite unpleasant — contributing to its increasingly poor reputation. Apologies for the extra metaphor, but it's certainly digging itself into the ground.

Why Are Bradford Pear Trees So Unpopular?

Its fragile structure, its greedy consumption of water, and its lack of self-maintenance all seem minor compared to the tree's relentless urge to multiply. To make matters worse, it's not even native to this area! A variety of the Callery Pear, Bradford pears originate from China and other parts of Asia.

The Washington Post describes the tree as a "nightmare," "an environmental time bomb," and "an ecological marauder destined to spread for decades." Meanwhile, The New York Times simply dubs it "the most despised tree."

And that's before we even get into the tree's smell, which, it turns out, most people find off-putting (though, admittedly, this writer is an exception).

What Is the Bradford Pear Tree's Scent Like?

Critics, trolls, and even journalists have compared its scent to "semen and decaying flesh," according to The Times, or even likened it to "the private booths at an adult theater," as noted by a Reddit user.

Others have said it smells like fish that’s starting to rot. This particular description comes from Alex Beasley, who works as the donor and public relations manager for Trees Atlanta, an organization dedicated to "protect and improve Atlanta's urban forest."

Even Beasley himself isn't a fan of the Bradford pear.

"I’ve never heard anyone describe this tree's scent as anything but unpleasant," Beasley remarks about the fish-like odor. "I personally think it’s awful."

The stench of decaying meat can draw in flies, which are the tree's primary pollinators.

Wait, Aren't Trees Beneficial?

Alright, we get it, the tree stinks. But it’s still a tree, and trees provide us with oxygen. In this era of undeniable climate change — with extreme weather events, droughts, and countless other crises — don’t we need every tree we can get? Shouldn’t we be nurturing more tree lovers and fewer tree detesters?

Yes, say Beasley (a landscape architect) and many other arborists and environmental advocates. However, the issues surrounding the Bradford pear are numerous and varied.

Its most significant problems, beyond its unpleasant odor, are its invasiveness in the U.S. The Callery pear, a variant of the Bradford pear, was introduced to the Northwest U.S. from China in the early 20th century, largely through the efforts of botanist David Fairchild, who also played a role in bringing Japanese cherry blossoms to Washington, D.C.

The Callery pear was believed to be resistant to fire blight, a destructive bacterial infection that impacts other types of pear trees. The plan was to use the Callery as a rootstock for grafting different varieties of European pears.

In 1960, researchers at the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Glenn Dale, Maryland, introduced the Bradford pear — a variety of the Callery — to the public. Despite its lack of actual pears, people were enamored with it. As The New York Times put it, "People went bonkers," in a positive way.

The tree appeared ideal for suburban America: a compact, tidy canopy; not too large; durable and vibrant colors in both spring and fall. It quickly became a staple in the U.S., planted across the country from north to south and east to west.

"Similar to how crape myrtles are viewed today, at one point this tree was the go-to for contractors and homebuilders," says Beasley. "It was easy to obtain, grew quickly ... and was nearly indestructible." Everything seemed perfect at the time.

And then, things took a turn.

Here to Stay?

Over the years, the Bradford pear's problems became more apparent. The unpleasant odor was one issue. But as the tree matured, its V-shaped crotch branches became structurally fragile. "We've been dealing with its storm damage ever since," Beasley notes.

Once the Bradford pear established itself in North America, it wasn't going anywhere. Its rapid propagation played a significant role. Just six months after blooming, it produces clusters of berry-laden seeds, which birds consume, spread through their droppings, and help the tree infiltrate new forests.

Bradford pears are also quite greedy, tree specialists argue. Their roots are so efficient at absorbing water that they can deplete resources needed by nearby plants and trees.

"If only people realized that by planting one of these trees, they might be unintentionally planting a hundred more, which can wreak havoc on a forest's ecosystem, one that countless wildlife depend on," Beasley observes.

Is It Too Late to Complain?

The invasive nature of this tree is undeniably striking. But from a devil's advocate point of view, let’s look at the opposing argument: The Earth is full of invasive species, thanks largely to what some consider the most invasive species of all: us, Homo sapiens.

As humanity has expanded across the planet, we have unwittingly spread a multitude of plant and animal species, many of which have decimated the native species they encountered. With this in mind, does "invasiveness" eventually become just a part of the natural order?

Beasley responds without hesitation: The battle is far from over.

"Never replant with an invasive species," he warns. "It's as disastrous as intentionally planting English ivy in your garden. You're condemning your neighbors for generations to come."

"When given the chance to replant and repair the damage we've done to our urban forests, why not take it?" he suggests. "Swap crape myrtle for a native hornbeam. Replace Leyland cypress with eastern red cedar. Exchange a Bradford pear for an oak."

"I truly don't understand how it's still legal to sell plants we know are invasive," he says. "[Ban them] just like smoking on airplanes was banned — it negatively impacts others. How can we allow the sale of a plant that's so destructive to our forests, costing taxpayers millions, if not billions, in remediation?"

So, until change happens, what should we do?

As spring begins, the Bradford pears start to bloom. The next time you come across one, take a moment to inhale deeply. If the scent bothers you, plug your nose and maybe vent about it online. Let your mind wander.

"If only I had a DeLorean," Beasley muses, referring to the time-traveling car from the "Back to the Future" movies. "Yes, I’d erase this tree from the American landscape."

Harsh words. But they align with the common sentiment. While the Bradford pear was once a beloved addition to American landscapes, these days, being a Bradford pear tree really does have a bad reputation.