The Lightning Shrikes; A Novel of... | Buy

The first All-Star American Indian coed professional softball team, in the face of divisive stereotypes and a manipulative marketing ploy, carries the fight for unity, honour, respect, and a world championship from Oklahoma to the nation

Devon Mihesuah is a professor of applied indigenous studies and history at Northern Arizona University. She is the author of American Indians: Stereotypes & Realities, Cultivating the Rosebuds: The Education of Women at the Cherokee Female Seminary, 1851-1909 and Roads of My Relatives, as well as the editor of American Indian Quarterly. She lives in Flagstaff, Arizona.

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Outside my window grew two climbing rose bushes with little blooms and big thorns. As I admired my flora, a bird bigger than a blue jay with a small lizard in its mouth landed on the rose bush.

"Jer," I said quietly. "Look."

As we watched, the bird with the hooked beak and markings like a black mask across his eyes impaled the lizard on a thorn and cocked its head side to side, watching its lunch expire.

"What the hell?" Jerry asked.

"Haven't you ever seen a shrike? A Loggerhead Shrike. It's also called the butcher bird. They impale their catches on things like thorns. They eat lizards, mice, other birds, bugs -- whatever they can catch. I saw one bring a garter snake to our fence one time when I was a kid and he stuck it on the barbed wire. The snake stayed there a whole day and when the bird came back it had a mouse and stuck it on the barb next to the snake. It ate the snake and saved the mouse for later. Kind of a pantry."

Satisfied that the lizard died, the shrike looked through the window at his spectators, predator eyes taking us in. He gave a harsh shriek and flew off with his prize to eat in private.

Jerry was grinning. "I got an idea," he said.

"You always have an idea."

"The McAlester Lightning Shrikes."

I thought about that a minute. "Sounds like strikes. Like a bolt."

"Yeah, I know. But it's not 'strike.' It's Shrike, which makes it a catchy name. That's a cool bird. We should use it."

I gave the name a quick once-over. It had to make our sports team sound intimidating. Aggressive? Check. Fast? Check. Mean-looking? Check. Non-stereotypical? Check.

0"Good idea. I'll get out the bird book and think about a logo."

"Who'll design it?"

"Rafte says they'd deal with a mascot as soon as we had an idea, but I'd rather see an Indian artist put it together."

"I know lots."

"And, we need to come up with team rules and regulations beyond the basic ones. I'm telling you Jer, there could be some real cultural and personality issues here."

"Conley," Jerry said before he swallowed the last of his tea. "We got money, a tough bird as the mascot, and a list of people to recruit. You worry too much."

"This is worth worrying about."

"That's what I'm getting paid for. Let me worry for you."

Excerpted from The Lightning Shrikes: A Novel of an All-Star American Indian Softball Team by Devon Mihesuah
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