Out of doors the father is anxiously watching for the first direct light of the sun, and the moment it appears above the horizon he gives the signal. Immediately the godmother picks up the cradle, so that the baby's head is towards the door, and near to the floor, carries it over the line of sacred meal, the mother following. Each has a handful of meal. At the door they stand side by side. The godmother removes the blanket from the baby's face, holds the sacred meal to her mouth, says a short prayer, and then sprinkles the meal towards the sun, and then the mother does the same; and, after ceremonially feeding the baby, all joining in the feast, the ceremony is at an end.
Another most beautiful ceremony of the Hopis is that which alternates with the Snake Dance, viz., the Lelentu, or Flute Dance. I have had the pleasure of witnessing it several times, and last year (1901) was one of five white persons present. To me this meant walking a weary thirteen miles over the hot sands of the Painted Desert, carrying a camera weighing about fifty pounds on my back. But the beauty and charm of the ceremony and the satisfaction of obtaining the photographs of it more than repaid me for the hot and exhausting walk.
After the secret kiva ceremonies (rites in the underground chambers of the fraternity of the Flute) the first public rites of the day took place at a spring near the home of Lolúlomai, the chief of the Oraibi pueblo, and about five miles west of the town. Here is one of the pitiful springs upon which the people depend for their meagre supply of water. Just before noon men, women, and girls might have been seen wending their way from the village on the mesa height, down the steep trails, over the sandy way trodden for centuries by their forefathers, towards the location of the spring.
Every face was as serious and wore as grave and earnest an expression as that of a novice about to be confirmed in her holiest vows. Arrived at the spring, an eminence just above it to the southwest was the chosen site for the preliminaries. Here an hour or more was spent in prayers, sprinkling of meal before and upon the altar, and the painting of the symbols of the clan upon the participants.
Other priests during the whole time were on their knees or in other postures of reverence, praying, singing, or chanting, and sprinkling the sacred meal on or before the altar. A large number of bahos, or prayer sticks and plumes, were used.
At this time the chief priest left the hillside and solemnly marched down to the spring. It is circular in shape, and with a rude wall built around it. At the opening in the circle three small gourd vessels were placed, two of which held sacred water from some far-away spring, and the other was full of honey. A singular thing occurred about the filling of this honey jar. A nest of bees had located in the wall of the spring, and the chief priest, taking it for granted that this was a good sign, had the nest dug out and the honey extracted from the comb, for his sacred purposes. After he had prayed for a while the priests and women from above marched down, all except the flute players. As they stood around the spring they sang and prayed, while the chief priest stepped into the water, bowing his face down over it, and waving his tiponi in and through it. Soon it was a filthy, muddy mess, instead of a water spring, and when it seemed mixed up enough he began to dip his face deep into it, while the men and women around continued their singing and worship.
Then he came forth, and now began a most beautiful processional march around the spring, in time to the weird playing of the priests above. After three times circling around, the group stood, facing the west, and at certain signals sprinkled large handfuls of sacred meal in the direction of the water. This was followed by a most profuse scattering of bahos in the same manner. Literally hundreds of them were thus thrown, and I gathered (after the celebrants were gone) scores of them for my collection. The bahos used on this occasion were mere downy feathers to which cotton strings were attached. The effect as the meal and the feathers were thrown was remarkably beautiful, and the scene was most impressive; none the less so for its strangeness and peculiarity.
These concluded the ceremonies at this spring. In the meantime the chief priest had gone to his house over the hill, and from there had started out a group of young men who were to race to the spring near the mesa—four miles away. It was a scorching hot day—as I had found out in my own walk—and yet these young men bounded over the sandy trail like hunted deer. It was a glorious sight to witness them. Ten or a dozen athletic youths, clad scantily, their bronzed figures in perfect proportion, revealing their strength and power, their long black hair waving out behind them, darting off like strings from a bow across the desert.
Slowly we followed them, and when we arrived at the other spring found they had long ago passed it, and the victor had received his reward.