The mezcal boom is destroying Mexico’s bat ecosystems

Fabiola Torres Monfil points to the mountains surrounding the town of San Diego la Mesa Tochimiltzingo, in the Mexican state of Puebla, where she was born and raised. Among the remaining forests, she sees machinery. They’re clearing land and moving soil to cultivate a single species of agave.

In this part of Mexico, these plants are part of everyday life and the landscape, but something began to change a little over a decade ago. “Before, the quiotes [agave flowers] were seen luminously all over the hills,” says this master mezcal maker, who learned the tradition from her father and grandfather.

Agaves are a genus of plants that are endemic to the Americas. They extend from the southern United States to northern South America. In Mexico, they are used to produce various spirits, including mezcal. Their popularity has increased since 2010, when Mexican gastronomy was included on UNESCO’s List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Mexico is home to 75% of the world’s agave species. This genus of plants blooms only once, just before completing its life cycle, producing a quiote — a tall stalk that rises above the base. Depending on the species, agave growth can take between six and 40 years. During this time, they concentrate sugars inside, so as to use all that energy in a single quiote. After flowering, they produce fruits (seed capsules). And, from that point onwards, the plants begin to dry out and die. They can also reproduce via new shoots that emerge at the base of the plant, or from the flower stalk itself, which are genetically identical to the mother plant.

It’s estimated that the domestication of the agave plant occurred 10,000 years ago. The fibers of these plants are used to make numerous useful objects, such as hats and baskets. The tips are used as needles, while their leaves are used to make a type of paper used as food wrapper. They’re also consumable: agave hearts are used to prepare pulque (a fermented alcoholic beverage), or to make distilled beverages, such as mezcal and tequila. And agave leaves are essential for cooking some traditional recipes.

The co-evolution of agaves and nectar-feeding bats

Agaves are pollinated by bats. Less appreciated than bees — due to unfounded cultural stigmas related to their nocturnal habits — bats play a fundamental role as pollinators of countless plants, such as pitahayas and agaves. In Mexico, there are three species of nectar-eating bats related to agaves: the greater long-nosed bat (Leptonycteris nivalis), the lesser long-nosed bat (Leptonycteris yerbabuenae) and the long-tongued bat (Choeronycteris mexicana). The first two are considered endangered and protected, respectively, due in large part to their dependence on agaves, according to Mexico’s Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources (SEMARNAT).

The close relationship between agaves and nectar-feeding bats is the product of a sophisticated co-evolution, one which is estimated to have lasted more than 10 million years. Ana Ibarra — director of Bat Conservation International in Mexico and Latin America — describes it this way: as they evolved, agaves increased the height of their quiotes, so that bats could pollinate the flowers without getting tangled up in other plants. They also adjusted their cycle so that the peak nectar flow occurred at night.

For their part, bats’ snouts and tongues adapted, so that they could reach the nectar without damaging the flowers. They also synchronized their migration with the flowering of agaves in the territory that is now Mexico.

“The reason for sexual reproduction in nature is to guarantee genetic diversity that gives organisms better tools to cope with environmental variations,” Ibarra explains. “Thanks to bat pollination, agaves have a better genetic makeup to adapt to changes, such as drought and pests.”

Bats can generally find quality food year-round. With a flight range of 30 miles per night, they carry pollen on their fur, thus ensuring pollination with outstanding genetic diversity. In fact, experts agree that the diversity of agaves in Mexico is partly explained by this efficient pollination system.

In the 1990s, the so-called tequila boom made Mexican spirits world-famous. Although the tequila-producing region is restricted by law — to 181 municipalities in five states — agaves are found in Mexico at all latitudes. This means that other distillates are produced from the various agave species in the country. To make mezcal, tequila, or any agave distillate, the entire plant is harvested at the moment when it concentrates the most sugars internally, just as the flower spike begins to form. This leaves the bats without food, because the plant’s life cycle is interrupted.

According to Ibarra, the lack of food — combined with the destruction of natural shelters and the transformation of the territory — have caused a decline of almost 50% in the nectar-feeding bat population. “The saddest thing is that when the mezcal trend started, we already knew this was coming, because we had already seen it happen with tequila,” she laments.

Before mezcal became a trendy alcoholic drink, local communities produced it only a few months a year. Now, they distill 365 days nonstop. Producers once used wild agaves and left plenty on the mountains, but that’s changed. “There are very few left on the hills. Now, they only use shoots, via monoculture [farming practices],” Torres notes.

Once harvested, the agave hearts are cooked over wood in portable clay ovens in a process called tapada. This caramelizes the sugars, favoring both fermentation and the alcohol content of the final distillate. The fuel for both stages is wood, which is obtained from the surrounding hills. This further increases the environmental impact.

A booming market

“Bats have been used as a marketing strategy. But neither in Mexico nor in the United States is the true impact of the agave distillate market on Mexico’s ecosystems understood,” says Diana Pinzón, a forestry engineer with a master’s degree in conservation. Ten years ago, she combined her knowledge and expertise with Fabiola Torres to create an agave distillate project focused on ecosystem restoration, biodiversity conservation and the safeguarding of intangible cultural heritage. These three intertwined factors are seriously threatened by the industry. They named their project Zinacantán, which means “land of bats” in the Nahuatl Indigenous language.

In 2024, the two women visited the Cuenca de Ojos reserve in the Mexican state of Sonora. Their hearts sank when they saw so many flowering quiotes. “We forgot that the hills used to be full of quiotes… we no longer remember that the landscape was like this here in the village,” Torres sighs.

The expansion of the agricultural frontier — which is necessary to produce food — is partly responsible for the transformation of ecosystems. But so is the change in land use — planned or not — which can occur as a response to temporary fads. These actions are quickly accepted by historically impoverished communities, who are sold the narrative of “progress” and “becoming rural entrepreneurs.” Within a few years, the soil degrades, as do water sources. This leaves communities without food sovereignty and without roots, as the market dilutes the cultural ties that bind them to their land, forcing them to leave.

In all cases, it takes decades — along with a great deal of work — to reverse these transformations. Oftentimes, such a process is unviable for historically impoverished and oppressed communities.

Hope goes against the current

Despite operating within a deeply patriarchal society, Torres and Pinzón have managed to make a difference. They’ve distanced themselves from market demands, which drive large-scale mezcal production: the process of planting agave shoots in a monoculture, with the use of pesticides that destroy biodiversity. Instead, for just a few months a year, they plant agaves grown from seeds, avoid the use of agrochemicals and produce small batches of mezcal. Furthermore, they ensure that at least 30% of their flowering agaves remain in the fields as food for bats. They’re committed to the conservation and care of a biocultural heritage that’s extremely fragile.

Torres and Pinzón understand that this is for the collective good. And, if there’s a way to put an end to the devastation of the territory, it must be done as a community. That’s why their project’s commitment goes beyond San Diego la Mesa. They’re now part of Fondo Agavero (Agavero Fund), a collective conservation initiative made up of several families and communities.

“My dream is to create feeding corridors for bats. Within a range of 30 miles, we could have small associated plots of land where people commit to letting the agaves remain and make sure to plant new plants each year,” Pinzón says. Meanwhile, Fondo Agavero is already yielding results. The collective is building seed banks and has initiated ecological restoration processes in several regions of Mexico. Additionally, several rural communities have committed to halting the use of agrochemicals. They’re also encouraging locals to reflect on the impacts of the agave industry on their territories.

“Conservation work is based on establishing relationships of trust with communities, so that they don’t forget that the land is the only thing they have left. The problem is so big that we propose solutions while knowing that the future outlook is very bleak,” Pinzón laments.

Indeed, the future looks bleak: no forests, no bodies of water, no pollinators. Preserving the life, food sovereignty and cultural heritage of many rural and Indigenous communities will require concrete and immediate actions.

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