Tigers and lions kept by drug lords as pets in dramatic rescue from cartel war

Tigers, lions and elephants are among exotic animals kept as pets by drug lords – and they need rescuing from the crossfire as a deadly battle between cartels intensifies. Vets and other staff at an animal sanctuary have been loading animals in crates onto lorries to take them away from the violence in the northern Mexican city of Culiacan.

For years, exotic pets of cartel members and circus animals have been living in a small animal refuge on the outskirts of Sinaloa’s capital. But a bloody power struggle erupted last year between rival Sinaloa Cartel factions, plunging the region into the worst battles yet, leaving the leaders of the Ostok Sanctuary reeling from armed attacks, constant death threats and a cut-off from essential supplies needed to keep their 700 animals alive.

The aid organization is now leaving Culiacan and transporting the animals hours across the state in hopes that they’ll escape the brunt of the violence. But fighting has grown so widespread in the region that many fear it will inevitably catch up. “We’ve never seen violence this extreme,” said Ernesto Zazueta, president of the Ostok Sanctuary. “We’re worried for the animals that come here to have a better future.”

Violence in the city exploded eight months ago when two rival Sinaloa Cartel factions began warring for territory after the dramatic kidnapping of the leader of one of the groups by a son of notorious capo Joaquin ‘El Chapo’ Guzman, who then delivered him to US authorities via a private plane.

Since then, intense fighting between the heavily armed factions has become the new normal for civilians in Culiacan, a city which for years avoided the worst of Mexico’s violence in large part because the Sinaloa Cartel maintained such complete control.

“With the escalating war between the two factions of the Sinaloa Cartel, they have begun to extort, kidnap and rob cars because they need funds to finance their war,” said security analyst David Saucedo. “And the civilians in Culiacan are the ones that suffer.”

Mr. Zazueta, the sanctuary director, said their flight from the city is another sign of just how far the warfare has seeped into daily life. This week, refuge staff loaded up roaring animals onto a convoy as some trainers attempted to sooth the animals. One murmured in a soft voice as he fed a bag of carrots to an elephant in a shipping container, “I’m going to be right here, no one will do anything to you.”

Veterinarians and animals, accompanied by the Mexican National Guard, began traveling along the freeway to seaside Mazatlan, where they planned to release the animals into another wildlife reserve. The relocation came after months of planning and training the animals, a move made by the organization in an act of desperation.

They said the sanctuary was caught in the crossfire of the warfare because of its proximity to the town of Jesus Maria, a stronghold of Los Chapitos, one of the warring factions. During intense periods of violence, staff at the sanctuary can hear gunshots echoing nearby, the roar of cars and helicopters overhead, something they say scares the animals.

Cartel fighting regularly blocks staff from reaching the sanctuary, and some animals have gone days without eating. Many have started to lose fur and at least two animals have died due to the situation, Mr. Zazueta said.

Complicating matters is the fact that an increasing number of the animals they rescue are former narco pets left abandoned in rural swathes of the state. In one case, a Bengal tiger was discovered chained in a plaza, caught in the centre of shootouts. Urban legends circulate in Sinaloa that capos feed their enemies to pet lions.

Diego Garcia, a refuge staff member, is among those who travel out to rescue those animals. He said he regularly receives anonymous threats, with callers claiming to know his address and how to find him. He worries he’ll be targeted for taking away the former pets of capos.

Mr. Zazueta said the refuge also receives calls threatening to burn the sanctuary to the ground and kill the animals if payment isn’t made. “There’s no safe place left in this city these days,” said Mr. Garcia.

That’s the feeling for many in the city of one million. When the sun rises, parents check for news of shootouts as if it were the weather, to determine if it’s safe to send their kids to school. Burned houses sit riddled with bullets and occasionally bodies appear hanging from bridges outside the city. By night, Culiacan turns into a ghost town, leaving bars and clubs shuttered and many without work.

“My son, my son, I’m here. I’m not going to leave you alone,” screamed one mother, sobbing on the side of the road and cursing officials as they inspected her son’s dead body, splayed out and surrounded by bullet casings late Monday night. “Why do the police do nothing?” she cried out.

In February, while driving a refuge vehicle used for animal transport, Mr. Garcia said he was forced from the car by an armed, masked man in an SUV. At gunpoint, they stole the truck, animal medicine and tools used by the group for rescues and left him trembling on the side of the road.

The breaking point for the Ostok Sanctuary came in March, when one of the two elephants in their care, Bireki, injured her foot. Vets scrambled to find a specialist to treat her in Mexico, the United States and beyond. No one would brave the trip to Culiacan. “We asked ourselves, ‘what are we doing here?’,” Mr. Zazueta said. “We can’t risk this happening again. If we don’t leave, who will treat them?”

The concern by many is that Mexico’s crackdown on the cartels will be met with even more violent power moves by criminal organizations, as has happened in the past, said Saucedo, a security analyst. Mr. Zazueta blames local government and security forces for not doing more, and said their pleas for help in the past eight months have gone unanswered.

The sanctuary made the move without any public announcement, worried that they might face repercussions from local officials or the same cartels forcing them to flee, but they hope the animals will find some relief in Mazatlan after years of conflict.

Garcia, the sanctuary staff member, is not so sure. While he hopes for the best, he said he’s also watched cartel violence spread like a cancer across the Latin American country. Mazatlan, too, is also facing bursts of violence, though nothing compared to the Sinaloan capital. “It’s at least more stable,” he said. “Because here, today, it’s just suffocating.”

THE MIRROR