126 LUTHER BURBANK 



On my Sebastopol farm there was once 

 growing an arum {A. dracunculus) whose 

 color and scent reveal a somewhat different 

 history. 



Unlike most flowers which advertise them- 

 selves by a pleasing fragrance to attract bees, 

 birds, and butterflies, this plant produces a scent 

 to attract carrion flies. 



Some flies feed on carrion. The nectar of the 

 clover is not to their liking and the brilliant 

 colors of our garden flowers fail to attract them. 

 Our refuse is their food, and they are guided to 

 it by colors and scents which are highly offensive 

 to us. 



So this arum, or carrion lily, as it has been 

 named — stranded at some time in its history, 

 perhaps, in some place where flies were its only 

 available messengers of reproduction, or bloom- 

 ing at a period when other means were not 

 within its reach — has bedecked its spathe with 

 a brownish-purple color, resembling the color 

 and texture of a piece of liver or an overripe 

 beefsteak. 



Just as the dianthus supplements its advertise- 

 ment in color with an advertisement in fragrance, 

 so the carrion lily has developed an individual 

 odor appeal, decidedly like that of meat of un- 

 certain age and quality. 



