Four weeks before the sale of live animals is set to be banned by a judge’s order, the aisles of Sonora Market remain packed with overcrowded cages, from which barks, meows, bleats, and squawks spill out. The strong smell of excrement and urine mixes with the chemical trace of cleaning agents used by vendors to keep the stench at bay. It’s Tuesday, and the market is bustling.
Between stacks of cages, a worker grabs a cardboard box, pokes holes in it with a knife so air can circulate, pulls a pigeon from its enclosure, and slips it inside with swift movements. He ties the box with raffia and writes a name on the lid: “Alejandro.” He places it next to several others lined up on the floor. “None of these last more than two days here,” he says as he reaches for another box.
La Silla Rota toured the area and confirmed that, despite the countdown ending on December 31, 2025, Mexico City’s largest live-animal market continues operating as if it had no expiration date.
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Most aisles offer chickens, roosters, pigeons, cats, dogs, sheep, and goats; in some stalls, rodents, reptiles, hedgehogs, and porcupines can be found under the same conditions that have prompted years of mistreatment complaints.
But customers keep coming. Families ask about prices, children tug at their parents’ clothes, and vendors navigate the aisles calling out quick offers to visitors.
“These are necessary products”
In one of those aisles, at the stall “El Buen Pollo,” amid constant rooster crows and bird chirping, sits Jaime Olea Méndez, a vendor who has worked there for four decades. He speaks unhurriedly, seated in front of a row of cages filled with young birds. “This is a family business. It belonged to my father since the market was founded 68 years ago,” he says in an interview.
Jaime explains that his father brought him to the market as a child after school.
That’s where he learned the business. “We fulfill a role of selling products that are necessary—whether for breeding or as pets. They’re necessary products, and the proof is that this market has been here for 68 years and this is still being sold because there’s demand,” he says.
And although he insists that no protected species are sold in the market anymore and that the animals are “well fed and in good conditions,” his words, for activists, represent the core of the conflict.
A market operating under an active ban
“Animals are not objects. They are sentient beings, not things. They’ve already been de-objectified, and he can’t call them products or pets anymore,” says Susana Ramírez, leader of the animal-rights organization Va por sus Derechos.
The activist explains that the sale of live animals in public markets has been prohibited in Mexico City since October 2023, following an amendment to the Animal Protection and Welfare Law.
The rule turned into litigation when the association led by attorney Susana Ramírez filed an injunction against the sale of animals in the market on September 23, 2023.
The injunction led to a judicial inspection in November of that year. The inspection confirmed poor conditions, overcrowding, the absence of a full-time veterinarian, and the use of expired commercial permits.
“The clerk from the Fourth District Court witnessed the mistreatment and suffering of the animals,” Ramírez says. “Never before had an authority formally documented the illegality of how those animals live there.”
Although a district judge initially dismissed the case, a Superior Court overturned that decision, and in August 2025, a full and immediate ban on the sale of animals at Sonora Market was ordered.
The ruling requires the Venustiano Carranza borough to either close the area or provide economic alternatives to vendors before the year ends.
Vendors dig in with legal appeals
However, Jaime Olea says that despite the court order, he and dozens of vendors do not plan to leave without exhausting all legal avenues. “This business has existed for many years. We’re fulfilling a need for people. If this area were closed, they’d force people to meet that need by going to a black market.”
By his estimate, of the 88 stalls originally dedicated to selling animals, between 50 and 55 are still operating with permits that he claims remain valid. “There are entire families that depend on this. It’s not fifty people—it’s hundreds, maybe thousands if you count suppliers, loaders, transporters, and people from the towns who raise the animals. What’s going to happen to them?” he asks.
Jaime says that a group of vendors has already sought help from private attorneys and several have filed individual injunctions. “I know at least three have been accepted,” he says.
His hope is that if the final ruling favors them, they will be allowed to continue operating beyond the deadline.
“My whole life has been here”
Among the stalls, Isabel, 22, stacks boxes, sweeps, and tends to customers. Her more-than-10-hour shift unfolds among crowing roosters and chirping chicks. “I’ve worked here for six, seven years,” she says. “My dad was a supplier; he brought chicks from Puebla. My whole life has been around animals.”
“It’s really sad. It doesn’t seem fair that they take away our livelihood. Our entire lives have depended on this.”
Isabel is one of the few workers willing to speak. She studied three semesters of law until her father died, forcing her to work full time. “We do comply with the laws,” she insists. “We have regulations, veterinarians come by, we have paperwork. Sometimes they shut us down because the wall isn’t painted the right color. They look for anything to blackmail us.”
When asked what she will do if the stall closes, she says no other job would pay her as much. “I’ll end up selling gum,” she says with a laugh, adding that no one from the borough has offered concrete options. “They say we’ll have alternatives, but they won’t tell us what they are.”
“There are alternatives, but selling animals is no longer one of them”
Attorney Susana Ramírez firmly rejects the vendors’ narrative. “It’s not true that they’re being left defenseless. Their right to work is not being taken away. The ruling is clear: the stall is not taken from them—only the sale of live beings is prohibited. They can change their line of business. They can sell any lawful product,” she explains.
“It’s like if someone said, ‘How will we survive if we’ve spent generations in human trafficking? The grandfather, the uncle, the brother, the grandson.’ Do you see what I mean?”
Ramírez also explains that the Venustiano Carranza borough is legally required to provide economic-transition and training programs. “They’ve been offered options, but they insist on exploiting, objectifying, and breaking the law by mistreating animals. They’re comfortable within illegality.”
La Silla Rota contacted the borough for information about these transition programs, but as of publication, there was no response.
Nevertheless, in October 2025, Mayor Evelyn Parra Álvarez publicly stated that she would enforce the Administrative Justice Tribunal’s ruling and warned vendors that they must change their business before the year ends. “If they don’t comply, they will be shut down and lose all their rights,” she said.
“Hopefully they regulate them. They’re very aggressive.”
At the market’s exit, a father, mother, and daughter quickly climb the pedestrian bridge that crosses Frey Servando Avenue. The man carries a small puppy in his arms. They refuse to talk; however, when asked about the possible closure of the animal section, the woman responds: “The vendors threatened us.”
Without giving her name, she explains that after her daughter insisted, they asked for the price of a puppy. “A thousand pesos,” they were told. They asked about vaccines and paperwork, and were assured everything was included. But when the seller handed over the puppy, he demanded two thousand pesos. “We protested, and they got aggressive,” she says.
Under tension, the wife paid. “It was all the money we had.” They ran through the central aisle, out the door, and into the street vendors before climbing the bridge.
“Hopefully they regulate them. They’re very aggressive,” the woman says before hurrying away.
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