You’re a handsome tree, Callery pear. But you stink.

Bringing Callery pears to the United States was a great idea. At least, Frank N. Meyer thought so a century ago.

Mr. Meyer was an agricultural explorer. He introduced 2,500 species of plants (including the Meyer lemon) to the United States in the early 1900s. He called the Callery pear wonderful. And why not? It survived drought and poor soil. Trees developed from Callery pears were pretty, insect-resistant, and hardy.

The vision caught on. People still plant Callery pears (and their descendant trees, including the Bradford pears) in yards.

How nice.

Except, these trees don’t belong in North America. They overwhelm native plants and sport nasty, four-inch spikes. Callery pears’ stinky blooms produce marble-sized, inedible fruits. These squish on sidewalks. Starlings and robins gobble them up. Their droppings spread seeds widely. Seedlings only a few months old bear spurs that can punch through tractor tires!

“They’re a real menace,” says Jerrod Carlisle. He and a neighbor had just five of the trees in their yards in Indiana. These spawned thousands of others on 50 acres.

Mr. Carlisle is trying to turn that land into a forest full of native plants. Native plants grow naturally in a certain place without people bringing them in.

Mr. Carlisle cut down pear trees. Pop! New sprouts.

He sprayed with herbicide. Boing! New leaves appeared.

He cut off bark in a circle around the trunk. This kills most trees. Not these.

Plus, the trees’ billowing white blossoms reek. People compare their scent to perfume gone wrong, rotting fish, chlorine, and a cheese sandwich left in a car for a week. Eeeeewwww!

Why? God made plants to flourish in the specific places He designed for them.