\ 0 V_ .
BULLETINS
OF THE
Zoological Society of San Diego
« »
No 9
A Herpetological Review
of the
Hopi Snake Dance
By
L. M. KLAUBER
Curator of Reptiles, Zoological Society of San Diego
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
JANUARY 25, 1932
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OFFICERS OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY
OF SAN DIEGO
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
Harry M. Wegeforth, M.D., President
F. L. Annable, Vice-President
Frank C. Spalding
Mayor of San Diego
Keith Spalding
Gordon Gray
C. R. Holmes
L. T. Olmstead, Secretary
T reasurer
President of Park
Commissioners
A. T. Mercier
Dr. Charles H. Townsend
EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE
Dr. R. a. Whiting
Pathologist
L. M. Klauber
Curator of Reptiles
Mrs. Belle Bencfiley
Executive Secretary
Harry Clark
Engineer
Louis Gill
Architect
John Morley
Horticulturist
Kenneth Gardner
Landscape Architect
R. J. Pickard, M.D.
Chairman
Grover C. Keeney
RESEARCH COMMITTEE
Pennel Baxter, M.D.
L. F. Pierce, M.D.
A. E. Elliott, M.D.
W. C. Crandall
E. F. F. Copp, M.D
Robert McLean
EDUCATIONAL COMMITTEE
Dr. Myrtle Johnson
Chairman
Mrs. Lena Crouse Miss Katherine Wood
AQUARIUM COMMITTEE
W. C. Crandall
Chairman
Joseph W. Brennan Gerald MacMullen
Mrs. Leta Clerfeyt Lt. Com. J. N. McNulty
THE PURPOSES OF THE SOCIETY
1. To advance science and the scien-
tific study of nature.
2. To foster and stimulate interest in
the conservation of wild life.
3. To maintain a permanent Zoologic-
al Exhibit in San Diego.
4. To .stimulate public interest in the
building and the maintenance of a
Zoological Hospital.
5. To provide for the delivery of lec-
tures, the exhibition of pictures and
the publication of literature dealing
with natural history and science.
6. To operate a .society for the mutual
benefit of its members for non-
lucrative purposes.
BULLETINS
OF THE
ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF SAN DIEGO
No 9
A Herpetological Review
of the
Hopi Snake Dance
By
L. M. KLAUBER
Curator of Reptiles, 'Zoological Society of San Diego
JANUARY 25, 1932
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
[ntroduction 2
The Hopi and Their Country 3
The Character of the Dance 5
The Dance at Mishongnovi in 1931 13
The Dance from the Herpetological Standpoint 18
Annotated Bibliography 41
Part A — The Indians and Their Dance 44
Part B — Herpetological References 62
Map References - 64
Appendix 1. Anthology of the Hopi Snake Dance 65
Appendix 2. The Amphibians and Reptiles Observed and Collected Enroute 75
2
Bulletin 9: Zoologkial Society of San Diego
INTRODUCTION
So often has the Hopi Snake Dance been described in print, it is with
some trepidation that I offer another contribution to the subject. Almost
every variety of presentation has been published, from the studied and
detailed accounts of trained ethnologists, through various grades of pop-
ular portrayal to the lurid and sensational stories of the Sunday supple-
ments. Travelers, tourists, artists, novelists on a holiday through the
Southwest, have added their contributions, long and short, impressionistic
and matter-of-fact, accurate and less so.
The same public reaction to snake-stories which causes some un-
important and often impossible note on a minor ophidian escapade to be
broadcast to the American press, and accepted for publication by metro
politan daily and country weekly alike,, has given this dance its fame.
Originally but one of the many significant rites practiced by our south-
western tribes, the mere participation of the snakes in the ceremony has
attracted such attention that this single dance, of this particular tribe, has
become the best known to the public of all our Indian rituals. Annually
it attracts a crowd of onlookers who come from all corners of our country
and foreign lands as well; annually these return to comb their dictionaries
for new synonyms for terrible, fantastic and repulsive; next year they are
back again, shocked but fascinated, to find whether their eyes deceived
them. And again they see a group of Indian priests, dancing with live
rattlesnakes held in their mouths, this being a part (and a small part
only) of an ancient and elaborate nine-day religious ritual, presented in
a spirit of sincerity and exaltation.
In the already voluminous literature on the ceremonial, only the snakes
themselves have failed to receive their due measure of scientific investiga-
tion. Therefore my excuse for adding to this flood is an attempt to report
the dance from a different angle — one that is somewhat more the view-
point of a student of the snakes, than of one who knows the Indians;
for of the latter I have little acquaintance and no knowledge. To the
stray ethnologist who comes upon these notes and reads them with an
increasing conviction of my inability to describe any event with truth or
accuracy, I plead in extenuation that his brethren have not been entirely
without fault in their discussions of the part (of minor importance
certainly) that the snakes play in the ritual, and their conduct therein.
Just as the Indian student has observed his thousands of individuals,
of a variety of tribes, which constimte his field of study, so I have seen
some thousands of rattlesnakes, including all the species found in Arizona,
and have given them considerable attention. I have investigated their
dispositions alive, and their morphology when dead.
Being particularly interested in the variations of the Prairie Rattle-
snake {Crotalus confluentus confluentus) , as it occurs in northern Arizona,
I attended the dance with my son, Philip, to learn what color phases were
used by the Hopi, and also to glean any information that might be avail-
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
3
able on their methods of handling venomous snakes. As far as I have
been able to determine, these particular aspects of the dance have not pre-
viously been stressed.
At the time the writer saw the 1931 presentation of the dance at
Mishongnovi, he had not read any of the detailed published accounts of
the ritual. The sequence of procedure was therefore unanticipated and
the significance unknown.
In choosing the Mishongnovi dance rather than at Walpi (time was
not available for both) 1 was influenced by the report that the former,
because of relatively greater inaccessibility, would be the more purely
primitive and less crowded with spectators, although smaller in number
of participants.
THE HOPI AND THEIR COUNTRY
The Hopi^ (formerly called Moqui) are a sedentary, agricultural
group of Indians living in eight villages on their reservation in central
Navajo County, Arizona. These villages are located on three mesas,
which extend like fingers from the north, resting upon the table of a
plain below. This area was known to the Spaniards as the Province of
Tusayan, having been discovered by Coronado in 1540. Missionary work
was undertaken in 1629, but most of the priests were driven out in the
Pueblo rebellion of 1680. The last mission was destroyed in 1700, after
which the Hopi were practically without white contacts, either religious
or commercial, until the coming of American influence in the sixties of
the last century.
Although the Hopi have lived upon these mesas for many centuries,
the villages at present existing are relatively modern, having replaced
others now abandoned and in ruins; within the last thirty years two more
have sprung into being through a tribal schism, and one of the older has
been almost deserted.
The towns are located on the rocky and waterless mesas at an altitude
of from 400 to 700 feet above the surrounding desert plain. The cliffs
are precipitous, and here the peaceful Hopi were afforded protection from
their more warlike neighbors, the Ute, Apache, and particularly the no-
madic Navaho. The towns at present occupied are these: On First (or
East) Mesa, Walpi and Sichomovi (also the Tewa town of Hano) ; on
Second (or Middle) Mesa, Mishongnovi, Shipaulovi and Shimopovi
(often written Shongopovi) ; and on Third (or West) Mesa, Oraibi,
Hotevila, and Bacabi.^ (See Map) In recent years, now that the occupation
of the mesas is no longer required as a military necessity, some of the Hopi
have established residence on the plain below, at points nearer to their
fields and springs. Here are the new towns of Toreva and Polacca, where
^ Hopi (Hopitu Shinimu), “Peaceful People;” Moqui, “The Dead,” a term
of derision possibly affixed by other tribes.
“ Since these names are the literation of Indian words, marked variations will
be found in their spelling throughout discussions on the Hopi.
4
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
the schools and trading posts are also located. The total Hopi population
is about 2100.
The Hopi, while primarily dependent on a precarious agriculture, are
weavers, and makers of baskets and pottery. They raise corn, beans,
melons, squash, and peaches; all of these products are exchanged with the
Indians of nearby tribes, particularly with the Navaho. They have consid-
erable herds of cattle, sheep, and goats.
Their many religious ceremonials,^ of which the Snake Dance is one,
are intimately related to agriculture, and are carried out with deep feeling,
gravity, and dignity.
To reach the Hopi villages, one has the choice of a number of roads:
From Cameron and Moekopie to the west; Leupp, Winslow 'or Holbrook
to the south; or Gallup to the east.
We chose the Holbrook road and therefore can speak from experience
only of this.'^ The distance from Holbrook to Mishongnovi via Indian
Wells, feddito, and Kearns Canyon is 94 miles. The first thirty miles art
upland, rocky, dry prairie; beyond, the Indian Wells Valley is crossed;
a few Navaho with their flocks are seen. Then comes a series of buttes,
after which the country is increasingly rough and arid.
The terrain, although referred to as desert, is high (5000 to 6000 ft.)
and is quite different from our lowland deserts of southeastern California
and southern Ari2ona; it is less sandy, flat, and barren.
The road is moderately good; we left Holbrook at eight o’clock and
reached Mishongnovi at noon, having stopped for several reptile hunts
along the way. In times gone by, the Hopi mesas were far less accessible ;
there were three days of toilsome team travel between the railroad and
Tusayan; and, until recently, these Indians, by reason of this inaccessibility,
were less affected by white contacts, with a purer primitive life and native
ceremonials than any other southwestern group.
Travel is easier in the morning; returning from the dance we bogged
down twice, once in a wash, and again in a mud-hole, both of which had
been dry in the morning. The first, through river sands, was particularly
difficult to negotiate because of the congestion of cars leaving the dance;
the passage of more than three machines on each newly made crossing
invariably resulted in disaster to the last.
One sightseer with the registration plate of a middle-western state
on his car, pronounced the road from Winslow the worst in history; but
as he had made the trip without the precaution of providing water, food,
or maps, we were disposed to question his experience.
The last part of the trip is through the sandy washes which skirt the
3 It is said that the Hopi ceremonial calendar is one of the most extensive
known amongst any people. More than one-third of the year is occupied with relig-
ious rituals, some of the more important of which are the Snake Ceremonial, Flute
Dance, Butterfly Dance, Women’s Basket Dance, Winter Solstice Ceremony, Bean
Planting Ceremony, New Fire Dance, Children’s Katchina Dance, and Farewell
Katchina Dance.
See Appendix 2, p. 75.
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
5
bases of the cliffs, upon which the varicolored Hopi castles gleam in the
sun above a dessicated Rhine. In the canyons and other favorable locations
are seen their fields ; corn widely spaced ; and peaches, not trees in regular
rows, such as comprise our orchards, but sporadic clumps of small separate
trunks, like scattered sumac bushes.
A short grade takes one to a shelf just below Mishongnovi on the
west; here parking space is adequate for the toiling cars. The final climb
to the village was made on the trail afoot, behind two burros laden with
water, in oil cans one regrets to note, rather than in the baked-clay jars of
bygone days.
THE CHARACTER OF THE DANCE
In order to understand the rather uncoordinated and disconnected im-
pressions of a single observer, handicapped by an attempt to make accurate
notes on a spirited and somewhat confusing scene, it will first be desirable
to describe the dance in generalized terms, as condensed from the reports
of several ethnologists and other scientific witnesses, especially Fewkes,
Dorsey, and Voth.
Fewkes (1896) calls this "A serious, precise ritual which has sur-
vived from prehistoric times to our present day,” and, further; "No Hopi
priest lives who understands the meaning of all the details, nor does he
care for an explanation of them.” He is merely content to cling to the
rites of his ancestors because, through experience, they have been proven
good.^
It should be understood that the dance, with accompanying ceremoni-
als, differs in detail as practiced at the several villages. That is to say,
although the ritual, in all details, is rigidly observed at each village, there
are certain differences in schedule, paraphernalia, and performance among
the villages; however, such differences are largely of a character which
render them important to the ethnologist rather than the casual observer.
The dance is carried on through the cooperation of two fraternities,
or secret societies, known as the Snakes and the Antelopes. These societies
are not to be confused with the names of clans. There is for example,
a Snake clan which is separate from the Snake society; members of other
clans may be enrolled in the Snake society, although it is understood that
the chief priest of the Snake society is always a member of the Snake clan.
The dances are held at Mishongnovi and Walpi in the odd numbered
years, and at Hotevila, Shipaulovi, and Shimopovi in the alternate years.
The dates are selected by the priests based on astronomical observations®
and are announced seventeen days in advance of the culminating Snake
dance. The usual time for the dance is the third week in August, and the
occurrence is generally on consecutive days in the towns, as for instance in
1931 at Mishongnovi, August 19th, and Walpi, August 20th.
See Appendix 1, p. 65.
® See Appendix 1, p. 67.
6 Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
The Snake ceremonial, of which the Snake dance is a part, involves
a coordinated program of nine daysd Much of what transpires is not
seen by the public or by the non-fraternity Indians themselves; but the
more important secret rites have been witnessed and carefully reported
upon by scientific observers, who had won the confidence of the par-
ticipants, and this fortunately at a time before white influence had been
seriously felt. Of the public part of the ceremonials the four important
rites are; The Antelope race in the morning and the Corn dance in the
evening of the eighth day, the Snake race early on the morning of the
ninth day, and the Snake dance itself, occurring in the late afternoon of
that day. It is this rite which has given the entire ceremonial its name,
and this, as far as the public is concerned, is the all-important feature of
the proceeding. However, it should be understood that the Snake dance,
while the culminating rite, is only a single half-hour episode in an
elaborate nine-day ceremonial. The importance ascribed by the public to
this fantastic feature has been rather unfortunate in that it gives an in-
accurate nicture of the solemnity and symbolism of the celebration as a
whole.
Four days of the nine are given over to a ritualistic hunting of the
snakes. This is done, not only by catching those found in the open, but
also by following their tracks to holes and digging them out with hoes,
and other more primitive digging sticks which have been consecrated for
the purpose. The snakes may be either rattlers or of non-venomous spe-
cies. The search is conducted with great energy.® No observer appears
to have accompanied the Indians on these hunting trips except for short
periods, for they are much averse to being followed. The snakes are
sought in the area surrounding the village, one day at each of the four
cardinal points, invariably in the order north, west, south, and east.
During these hunts the novices, some of whom may be quite young, are
initiated in the capmre and handling of snakes. If not enough snakes
are found on the four official or ceremonial days, the hunts may continue
informally for several additional days; on these the search may lead any-
where, being unrestricted as to direction.
There are certain accessories to which Indian names are applied which
must now be briefly explained. First, we have the kiva, an underground
or semi-underground vault, entered by means of a ladder through a hatch-
way in the roof ; this serves the combined purposes of a lodge-room and
the scene of various religious rites. There are separate kivas for the differ-
ent secret society groups; in each of the villages there is one for the
Snake society and one used by the Antelope society, and, usually, several
others besides. The bahoki (or pahoki) is a permanent stone shrine
erected near the center of the plaza, or other public ceremonial place,
where the Snake dance and other rituals are performed. I am not sure
that this shrine is an important feature in the ceremony at all of the
' See Appendix 1., p. 65.
® See Appendix 1, p. 68.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
7
towns, but at Mishongnovi it was certainly incorporated in the rite. Then
there is the kisi, a temporary bower of cottonwood branches shaped like
an Indian tepee, but much smaller. This is erected near the center of the
plaza (in the direction of greatest dimension) but close to one side, so
as to leave a dancing space before it. The entrance to the kisi is covered
with canvas or a blanket. In front of the kisi a hollow has been dug,
over which is placed a board. This is the sipapu,^ the entrance to the
underworld. The kisi is used only for the Snake ceremonial.
The snakes having been captured are placed in certain sacred clay jars,
and are stored in the kiva of the Snake priests. Here, when not actively
hunting, and particularly after the fourth ceremonial day of
the hunt, the Snake priests live, making prayer sticks (pahos), observing
various sacred rituals, including ceremonial smokes, and preparing their
costumes.
Similarly, while these rites are proceeding in the Snake kiva, the
Antelopes, who are relieved of the necessity of hunting snakes, are carry-
ing forward even more elaborate ceremonies in their retreat; for the
Antelopes, although they do not handle snakes, have a part in the ritual
which is superior, rather than inferior, to that of the other sect. An altar
is prepared, consisting of a beautiful colored-sand mosaic, symbolic of a
rain storm, with clouds and lightning, surrounded by a variety of ritualistic
objects. Prayer-sticks and other sacred paraphernalia, of great diversity
and particularity are manufactured and appropriately used; many are sent
by official couriers and deposited at four shrines of the rain gods. A
tableau with Snake Youth and Corn Maiden, dramatizing the ancient
snake myth upon which the dance is based, is enacted, accompanied by
traditional songs and chants.^® There is imitation thunder produced by a
whirling stick on a string (called a bull-roarer) ; lightning is simulated
by shooting out and retracting an extensible rack, like a continuous pan-
tograph; clouds by ceremonial smoke; and rain by water asperged from
sacred vessels. (These devices are also used in some towns in the sub-
sequent public dance) . Sacred corn-meal and corn-pollen are used ex-
tensively by sprinkling, to sanctify objects and actions.
During the ceremonies in the kivas, appropriate insignia are attached
to the parts of the entrance ladders above ground as a notification to the
non-fraternity townspeople that the ritual is in progress; these serve also
as a warning against trespassing into the secrecy of the ritual.
Amongst the sacred paraphernalia there is one item of particular in-
terest to the'herpetologist; this is the snake-whip or snake-wand, a wooden
shaft about eight inches long to which is attached a pair of eagle feathers.
From the first hunts to the final dance these serve a very practical purpose
in soothing the snakes, or herding them when it is desired to have them
go in a certain direction, or to cause them to straighten out when they
There is also a sipapu in the Antelope kiva.
See Appendix 1, p. 69.
8 Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
have coiled for defense. Eagle feathers are used because eagles are the
masters of (piey on) snakes.
On the morning of the eighth day, at an early hour, occurs the first
part of the ceremony which the public (whether Hopi or white) may wit-
ness; this is the Antelope race, in which the young men of the village
compete.
On the evening of the eighth day occurs the Antelope or Corn dance,
which resembles the Snake dance in method, except that wands of corn
stalks twisted together with melon vines are used in place of the snakes.
Further, the respective roles of the Antelope and Snake priests are some-
what different in the Corn dance, as compared to the succeeding Snake
dance. This ceremony is not a rehearsal of the Snake dance, as has been
occasionally stated, but, on the contrary, is a definite part of the ritual, a
prayer for the growth of corn and other agricultural products upon which
the Hopi rely for sustenance.
Early on the morning of the ninth day occurs the Snake race, in which
young men of this and adjacent villages participate. The race is said to be
for a distance of four or five miles and ends in the steep and exhausting
ascent of the mesa on which the dance is to be held. The prize to the
winner consists of some small sacred offerings, which he buries in his corn
field as a blessing of the crop.
Other young men and boys, most of whom have accompanied the
racers only up the final slope, come into the village carrying corn-stalks
and melon-vines. These are now the cause of a good natured wrangle
with the women and girls, who snatch them from the boys and bear them
to their homes as trophies.
At noon on the ninth day occurs the secret rite of washing the snakes,
in anticipation of their part in the dance. This has been witnessed and
carefully reported upon by a number of ethnologists, especially Fewkes,
Dorsey, and Voth.^^ It is an extremely elaborate ritual and differs in detail
amongst the towns. In general, the snakes, having been removed from
the sacred storage jars, where they have spent most of the time intervening
since their capture, are taken in hands-full by the chief Snake priest, before
the assembled members of his fraternity, and are dipped in an effusion
contained in an earthen bowl, the liquid having previously been the sub-
ject of a suitable ceremony. After the washing, the snakes are dried by
allowing them to crawl on sand; they are permitted partial liberty in the
kiva for as much as two hours, following which they are placed in cloth
sacks awaiting the ceremony.
All reporters who have witnessed the washing state that the snakes
are handled gently but fearlessly. There is no report of anyone having
been bitten. During their brief freedom they are guarded by boy priests.
The Snake dance itself occurs at sundown on the ninth day, this being
See Appendix 1, p. 69.
12 Rm see statement on Walpi washing, p. 21.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
9
the time fixed by precedent. Prior to the dance the snakes are placed
in the kisi in one or more cloth bags by the Snake priests.
On the afternoon of the dance the audience, which consists of the
local Hopi, visitors from adjacent villages, Navaho, and, with improve-
ments in roads, an increasing number of whites, has been circulating
through the village and about the plaza engaged in sight-seeing. A con-
siderable time before the dance most of them have selected vantage points
from which they expect to view the ceremony. Many, including the more
timid, are perched upon the house-tops in double and triple rows along
the fronts of the buildings. On the ground there is another group, com-
pletely surrounding the plaza, seated in the doorways of the Hopi homes
or on a sort of stoop which is built into the fronts of most of the houses.
Competition for vantage-points is sufficiently keen so that the audience
is content to remain stationary for an hour or more before the dance, in
order to hold their places.
The number of participants in the final ceremony varies in the several
towns, and at different times in the same town. There may be as few
as six Antelopes and eight Snakes, or as many as twenty Antelopes and
fifty Snake priests. The number of reptiles used varies from about 20
(where the priests are few) to 100 or more at Walpi, where the largest
dance is held. From a quarter to a half of the snakes are generally re-
ported to be rattlers; the others are harmless bull snakes or racers.
The dance begins at sundown with the entrance of the Antelope
priests. They come from their kiva in single file, dressed in elaborate and
symbolic costumes, complying in detail with the ritual. The stragglers
amongst the audience find the best remaining places. Indian police gen-
erally aid in a somewhat haphazard way in keeping the central area clear.
The Antelopes hold rattles made of buckskin in one, or both hands, and
carry pouches filled with sacred corn-meal. Rather slowly and sedately they
make four circuits of the central area, scattering a pinch of meal on the
bahoki (shrine) and on the sipapu, the board before the kisi, as they pass;
they also stamp with the right foot on the board. Their march is accom-
panied by a rhythmic shaking of the hand-rattles, and the jingle of their
trappings. Finally, having completed the fourth circuit, (always in the
direction north, west, south, east) they stand in a single row, either upon
each side of the kisi, or with their backs to it, facing the central area.^^'
After a short pause the Snake priests enter from their kiva. They are
headed at some distance by one or two of the chief priests. They are not
dressed or painted uniformly, for there are certain differences, not only
between towns, but between individuals, in symbolic representation of
mythological characters and occupations. One or two priests
kisi, while the rest make four circuits of the central area as did the Ante-
lopes The Snake priests move, however, at a considerably more rapid
gait than did their predecessors, there being a certain aggressive intensive-
See Appendix 1, p. 71.
10 Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
ness in their actions not evident amongst the Antelopes. Each time an
individual passes the kisi he stamps violently with right foot upon the
board, which being over a hole, gives forth a hollow sound. Thus the
rain gods of the underworld are advised, by this imitation thunder, of the
impending ceremony. At the completion of the fourth circuit the Snake
priests line up in a row facing the Antelope priests.
Then follows a ceremony of considerable length involving a slow,
weaving dance with rising and falling chants and incantations. Amongst
other paraphernalia each Snake priest carries at the back of the right knee
a hollow turtle-shell against which dangle small objects, said to be sheep-
hoofs; thus, when the right leg is stamped, the turtle-shell gives forth a
deep rattling sound, and this keeps time with the dance and the hand
rattles carried by the Antelopes.
Now the Snake priests (but not the Antelopes) break up into trios,
each containing one man who is usually referred to, in descriptions of the
dance, as the "carrier,” a second called the "hugger,” and a third known
as the "gatherer.” As the first carrier passes before the kisi he stoops and
is handed a snake by one of those within. This snake he puts into his
mouth, holding it with teeth and lips from six to twelve inches behind
the head. The hugger now puts his left hand on the carrier’s right
shoulder, or about his neck, and together, the carrier continuing to hold
the snake, they slowly dance, with a shuffling step, around the arena, with
the carrier on the inner side of the circle. After approximately one and
a half times around, the carrier drops, or puts down the snake on the
ground and, in passing the kisi, receives another. In one of the villages
the carrier holds the snake with his hands as well as lips ; elsewhere, how-
ever, it is held only by the mouth. The exact position and action of the
hugger, with references to the carrier, differs in the several villages.
Meanwhile other trios have followed the first, and there is a circle of
dancing priests, picking up, carrying, and putting down snakes in more or
less confusion. The hugger, while dancing around at the right hand of
the carrier, from time to time brushes the snake’s head or the carrier’s
face with the eagle feathers of a snake-wand This is presumed by some
to be for the purpose of engaging the snake’s attention, to keep it from
biting the carrier. The hugger acts as guide, as well as protector, for the
carrier’s eyes are generally closed.
The gatherer has been following his two fellow priests. When a
snake has been put on the ground by his carrier he picks it up, usually
six to eight inches behind the head, sometimes directly, but more often
first sprinkling it with sacred corn-meal. Or, if it coils, as if for defense,
he brushes it with his feathered snake-wand or snake-whip, and, as soon
as it has straightened out to escape, he seizes it. After he has accumulated
several snakes in this way, some are handed to the Antelope priests, who
See Appendix 1, p. 71.
See Appendix 1, p. 72.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
11
hold them until the termination of the dance. The Antelopes have not
left their place by the kisi but have continued, with chants and rattles, to
furnish the rhythm for the Snake priests. At one point in the ritual a
group of women approach with white meal held before them in shallow
baskets ; pinches of this meal are scattered on the snakes and dancers.
When all the snakes have been danced with and are now held either by
the Antelopes or the gatherers, one of the priests draws a circle on the
ground with corn-meal. All the snakes are piled into this circle in a
seething mass; thence many try to escape but are carried or herded back
within the ring. The women scatter the balance of their sacred meal
upon the snakes. This is the part of the dance causing most excitement
amongst the audience, particularly those nearest the circle.
Now the Snake priests as a group rush to the squirming pile and
seize the snakes by the hands-full until all have been picked up. Then
they run in the four cardinal directions off of the mesa and down the steep
trail onto the plain below, where the snakes are liberated at some distance
from the bases of the cliffs, and thus the messengers to the gods are sent
upon their way. The Snake priests return to the mesa more slowly. An
e.netic is taken as a purifier, and then the dance closes with a great feast
cl celebration and with merrymaking which lasts four days. Meanwhile
the audience has dispersed, the Indians to their homes, the whites to their
adjacent automobiles or camps.
It should be repeated that there are considerable variations in many
details as the dance is practiced in the several villages; not variations re-
sulting from carelessness or indecision, but rather owing to gradual di-
vergences in paraphernalia and ritual, as the dance has been handed down
from generation to generation through the centuries. Most of these differ-
ences are of importance only from an ethnological viewpoint; they have
been completely described in various technical monographs. Observers
who have seen the dance in the same town in successive bienniums have
noted with approbation how these priests, with no guide save memory,
can repeat exactly each year the numberless minute details of action and
procedure, seemingly without change.
Surprising as it may seem, in the case of a rite which has lately re-
ceived so much attention, the first published description of the dance did
not appear until 1881. Until 1900 transportation difficulties had kept
away all but a few Indian officials, traders, scientists, missionaries, and
army officers. The dances at some of the towns were seen annually only
by a dozen or fewer non-Indians, and the outsiders admitted to the secret
ceremonials could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Yet fortunately
these included ethnologists, familiar with the language and customs of the
Indians ; they were able to gain the confidence of the chiefs, and thus have
recorded in detail the ritual as it was practiced before any contamination
by outside influences took place. Formerly cameras were permitted and,
notwithstanding the difficulty of the late afternoon light, many good
photographs have been published; more recently their use has been pro-
12
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
hibited, so that no recent pictures are available. Photography is permitted
m the villages prior to the dance.
The Indians, though desperately poor in worldly goods, have resisted
the commercializing of their ceremonies. They view the white spectators
as rather unnecessary annoyances which native hospitality requires them to
tolerate. It is stated that they have refused a considerable monetary offer
to stage the public part of the dance in a more accessible locality ; tenders
for moving-picture rights have also been made. Only a few of the
younger Indians profit through the sale of refreshments and trinkets, and,
in one of the towns, advantageous seats. But the ceremony is a grave,
religious matter with the Hopi and they are said to resent an imitation
dance, annually staged, with harmless snakes, by a white group, in south-
ern Arizona.
It seems to be agreed by competent investigators, that the entire cere-
monial, including the elaborate secret rites, the Corn dance, the races, and
the final Snake dance, is a prayer for rain and the fulfillment of adequate
crops. But it must not be presumed that the dance is a prayer for rain
which is expected to follow immediately upon the termination of the
rimal. Lurid accounts occasionally have appeared in the press of priests
embarrassed by premamre storms, or disconsolate over the failure of ram
to follow immediately upon the conclusion of the ceremony. This does
not seem to be accurate. Over the northern Arizona plateau the summer
constitutes the rainy season. Considerable rain is to be expected before
the third week in August, when the dance is usually held. But the rains
are sporadic and capricious; almost every afternoon one may look about
him (if not in a rainstorm at the time) and see from three to six or more
such storms, each giving, for a brief time at least, precipitation to a limited
area. The total number of such storms effective at any one point varies
considerably from year to year. The Hopi prays for an adequate number
to reach his fields; no doubt he hopes that they will be evenly spaced in
time so that they will be most effective in nurturing the crops, without
spells of withering drought, alternating with cloudbursts to wash away his
fields.
An examination of the details of the ceremony, particularly the secret
proceedings in the kivas, can leave no doubt as to the purpose of the
rimal. Each item is a part of a coordinated whole; each portion carries
with it some symbolism toward the bringing of rain. All this is shown
in the dramatization of the myth, in the pantomimes, the chants and songs,
the sand picture, the fetishes. There is the thunder of the bull roarer,
the lightning of the pantograph, the clouds of ceremonial smoke, the rain
of the aspergill. The altars are decorated with water worn roots and
stones, sea shells, mud from river banks, plants (as the cottonwood) which
seek water. It is an astonishingly intricate procedure, painstakingly built
Up through the centuries, an attempt literally to pull rain from the sky,
first by causing the formation of clouds, then their drawing together over
Tusayan, and, finally, the delivery of rain with the help of lightning and
thunder.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
13
The ceremonies involving the dance are presumed to have had their
origin in a Snake Myth involving the "Spider Woman,’’ a youth, and a
maidend® After many adventures in the underworld, the youth, with the
aid of the Spider Woman, won the maiden and returned with her to his
village. Their first progeny were snakes, who were sent back to the
underworld for biting the Hopi. Their later children were human, who
became the ancestors of the Snake clan. The relationship of the Snake
myth to successful crops and the present ceremony is through the following
element of the myth: After the snakes were sent back to the underworld
in disgrace, there followed a drought; the corn was scorched and the
springs dried up. Then the hero of the myth taught his people songs and
prayers to restore the rainfall, and in this ritual the snakes were sent back
to the underworld as cherished envoys rather than in disgrace as before.
The present ceremony is not a form of ophiology; the snakes are not
worshipped, they are "elder brothers of the priests,’’ messengers to the
gods of rain. The connection is based on the following: Rain — lightning
—sinuous shape — snake; or as it is sometimes expressed, rain — lightning
— ^death dealing stroke — snake. The rain gods are underworld gods, for
the Great River (the Colorado) flows forever into the earth. To them
the snakes have admission. The scattering of sacred corn-meal, which is
so important an element in this and other Hopi ceremonies, is a form of
consecration.
THE DANCE AT MISHONGNOVI IN 1931
The visitor to the dance cannot hope, in a single viewing, to catch all
of these different events accurately. There is much confusion, and the
writing of notes namrally detracts a certain amount of attention from the
dance itself. However, it may be of interest to give a few points observed
by the writer at the Mishongnovi dance on August 19, 1931.
The plaza is approximately 40 by 180 ft. and is crowded, both on the
roofs and on the ground, long before the dance begins. It is a curiously
mixed group ; cowboys and dude ranchers, tourists and students, Hopi and
Navaho ; chickens, dogs, color, and noise. A reasonably accurate count
of those on the west side indicates that the crowd numbers about
750, equally divided between Indians and whites. The audience is
good-natured, but somewhat disorderly before the dance. There are
noisy salutations by old friends, and much fruitless inquiry as to when
the dance will begin, upon the part of those who have never seen it
before. Quite evidently a number of Indians have remrned from distant
points to view the dance; they are greeted effusively by fellow townsmen.
An animated conversation with much laughter is carried on in the native
tongue, for the Hopi are an affable and friendly people. There is a
general air of happiness. Refreshments are sold by three or four of the
local Indians, and while this procedure may detract from the pictur-
See Appendix 1, p. 73.
14
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
esque scene, it must be admitted that they are welcomed by many
during the long wait; the cool drinks are especially appreciated in the
warm plaza. I here is a good deal of conversation concerning the snakes
and the chance of someone in the audience being bitten. It amuses the
old timers to exaggerate this danger with tall stories; whereupon some or
the more timid abandon seats already appropriated upon the ground and
take to the roofs. The Indians circulate about, the women and girls in
brightly colored shawls and holiday garb. The children, who are many
and of all ages, roam about in protective groups; they are appreciative
of the day’s festivities, being fed candy by the visitors. A seven year old
who occupies the seat at my left engages in a highly successful zoological
expedition on her three year old sister’s head. A Navaho girl, whose
sister has lately married a Hopi, tells with a mixture of amusement and
chagrin, of her initiation that morning into the Hopi tribe (or some
dan.^). She seems to have been plastered liberally with mud, and as she
is seen by dress, speech, and demeanor to be a well educated young
woman, it is natural that this primitive rite might be considered no longer
exactly appropriate. Some tourists visit the interior of the houses and
seem to be welcomed by the residents. A few baskets and jars are
bought.
Some little time before the dance begins, a couple of Indian policemen
enter and mildly urge the crowd to remain permanently in their seats.
This brief authority is all that is in evidence during the ceremony. The
grand-marshal, the executive board, the entertainment committee and in-
formation bureau, the high hats and badges of authority, auditors and
checkers, and all the intrusive exponents of organization which seem so
necessary in our public celebrations are here conspicuously absent.
The kisi, or cottonwood bower, is at the center of the narrow plaza
and approximately 10 ft. from the west wall. The bahoki (shrine) is to
the north and east, on the north-south center line.
At 5:10 P. M. three elderly priests appear, wearing only loin cloths,
and deposit three canvas bags of snakes in the kisi. This naturally causes
a buzz of comment amongst the audience, which is hopeful of an immedi-
ate procedure with the dance. However, it is not until 6:12 that the first
dancers appear. They enter from the south, marching sedately in single
file northward along the east side of the plaza, then mrning west in front
of the stone shrine, thence south in front of the kisi and so around. These
are the Antelope priests of whom there are eight. They are followed so
closely by two of the Snake priests the writer at first thought that these,
also, were Antelopes, but as they subsequenly disappeared into the kisi and
handed out the snakes, it may be presumed that they were Snake priests.
The Antelopes circle four times, shaking their rattles (one in each hand),
sprinkling meal on the shrine, and stamping on the sipapu in front of the
kisi as they pass. Two youths, aged ten to fourteen, evidently neophytes,
bring up the rear. Gradually the circle becomes smaller, and, at the con-
clusion of the fourth round, they stand in line, four on each side of the
kisi, all facing east. They have white marks from ear to ear across the
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
15
eyes. Their jaws are painted black, their shins white. Their bodies above
are decorated with white lightning-stripes. They wear kilts, a colored and
embroidered sash hanging at the right, with a fox skin (tail down) at the
waist behind. They wear necklaces of shells, some cottonwood leaves
about the leg, and silver decorations on the arm ; there are other ornaments
which there is no time to catalogue. While standing they continue shaking
their rattles and sprinkling meal. The first two carry some insignia which
appear to be bundles of feathers.
At 6:l6 the Snake priests enter, also from the south. They move
faster and more impetuously than the Antelopes. The oldest man is in
the middle; the youngest, a mere boy, brings up the rear of the line of
eight. They seem to go around the circle divided into three groups,
1 — 3 — 4, but this may be accidental. After they have circled four
times, stamping violently on the sipapu before the kisi each time they
pass, they face the Antelopes. Several are holding feathers or feathered
wands in the right hand. It is noted that the leader carries a bow, or
staff, decorated with skunk skins and feathers he is the only one carrying
a staff thus adorned, the others having wands only. Each Snake priest
nas a turtle-shell at the back of his right knee against which small sus-
pended objects dangle, making a rhythmic rattling sound as he stamps.
Their faces are painted black. They are naked to the waist, with three ochre
blotches on the back. All wear dark brown kilts decorated with a wavy
black band. Each carries a bandolier over the right shoulder to which shells
are attached. A feather or two hangs from the hair. A fox skin is worn at
the waist, similar to that of the Antelope priests. There is an arm band
on the left arm, with a wide silver plaque. The mocassins are fringed
with leather strips or strings. Some of the Snake priests have long, others
short hair.
As the two rows of priests, eight in each row, stand facing each other
before the kisi the audience is quiet, serious, of a demeanor different from
the somewhat derisive spirit in evidence before the dance. Now begins
a chant, at times a low hum, again rising to an impetuous note, as the
two lines, facing each other perform a weaving dance which includes a
brushing pantomime with the feathered wands. This ceases at 6:26.
Six women now enter carrying meal in flat baskets ; the second from
the left is an albino. The Snake priests take the feathered wands in the
left hand ; one stoops at the kisi and brings out a large bull snake which
The tiponi or badge of office of the chief and assistant chief priests.
18 Said to be the insignia hung on the ladder above the Snake kiva during the
secret rites.
19 There seems to be a strain of albinism amongst the Hopi ; mention of albi-
nos is frequent in past reports. At Mishongnovi in 1931 there were three, two mid-
dle-aged women and a girl of about seven. It was painful to see them in the bright
sunlight with their eyes unprotected by dark glasses. See Bur. Am. Eth., Bull. 34,
pp. 192-197.
16
Bulletin 9- Zoological Society of San Diego
he places in his mouth, holding it about eight inches from the head.^*^ A
second priest (the hugger) now joins him, the hugger on the right with
his left arm around the carrier’s neck. They dance southward from the
kisi in the same direction as the original march. The Antelopes continue
to chant and shake their rattles, furnishing the music for the dance. The
Snake priests have divided into three pairs of two each; that is, a carrier
and hugger, leaving two gatherers, one a stout, middle aged Hopi, the
other the youngest boy in the dance, a novitiate. As each carrier passes
the kisi he is handed a snake; just how this is done cannot be observed
as the carrier blocks the view, and the priest within is not to be seen.
The first three snakes out are all bull snakes about 4 ft. long. They are
held in the mouth, while each carrier makes the circle one and a half
times. They are then dropped on the ground and sprinkled with meal,
after which they are picked up by the stout, older gatherer. Now there are
six snakes out, all bull snakes; all so far are the usual Arizona, light-
colored subspecies. Then comes the first rattlesnake, on the third round,
followed immediately by a second. They are greenish-colored prairie
rattlers, without light edges on the blotches. The carriers hold them about
four inches behind the head. By the next round there is a total of three
rattlers and seven bull snakes. Another rattler is brought out and is held
six inches behind the head. When a snake is on the ground and is to
be picked up by the gatherer, there is no attempt to use care in seizing
it immediately behind the head; it is picked up at random, this being
true whether the snake is a rattler or non-venomous. Usually the snakes
on the ground are sprinkled with meal, and if they coil, are brushed with
a snake-wand until they straighten out and attempt to escape. At the next
round the total has become eleven bull snakes, two racers and four
rattlers. By this time the stout gatherer has handed a number of snakes
to the Antelope priests to hold, but it is observed that they will not
accept rattlers, in consequence of which he still retains all four, holding
them about four inches behind the head. One rattler shows a rather bad
injury below. All of the snakes, whether rattlers or harmless, seem to
have little energy. They hang without a struggle from the carrier’s
mouth, and there is no violence whatever in their conduct. A single
rattler opens his mouth and makes a pass in the air which might be con-
strued as a half-hearted strike; however, he does not touch the carrier’s
cheek; when the mouth is open the fang sheaths can be clearly seen. Most
of the rattlers, when dropped on the ground, prior to being picked up by
the gatherer, do not coil but merely try to escape. One, evidently dropped
too violently, coils and rattles for a moment. It is brushed with the
feather wand by the gatherer, and, as it straightens out, is picked up in
the usual way, not immediately behind the head. It makes no attempt to
bite, and subsequently receives no more attention than the others. One
bull snake, when dropped, coils for defense, but is handled in the same
20 My notes say that the snake’s head was toward the carrier’s left; my son
differs on this point.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
17
way. One or two snakes, particularly the racers, almost escape into the
audience, resulting in squeals and confusion. A small rattler of the red
Winslow form is now in evidence; it appears more spirited than those of
the larger, greenish phase. The boy gatherer picks it up, in error I
think, as several attempts to hand it to the Antelope priests to hold are
refused, somewhat to the boy’s discomfiture. Subsequently this rattler is
seen to be held by the stout gatherer, as are all of the other rattlers used
in the dance. An Indian not hitherto engaged in the dance, and not
dressed in costume, now comes forward and stands at the north end of
the Antelope line, to hold the overflow of snakes. At this time it is
observed that the stout gatherer is holding four bull snakes, one racer and
five rattlers, all close behind the head (a grip different from that of the
early part of the ceremony) . The next rattler out is one of the usual
green specimens, followed by one smaller and olive-green, somewhat like
those from the vicinity of Winona. The Antelope priests appear to be
inexperienced in holding the snakes, and one has clutched a large bull
snake so tightly that it appears to be dead.
Now the last snake is out, there having been counted ten rattlers, of
which seven may be designated as large greens, two olive-greens, and one
small red; six racers and twenty-five bull snakes. There may be an error
of one or two in the bull snake count. Suddenly all of the snakes,
whether in the possession of the gatherer or the Antelope priests, are
thrown into a single, central pile. (The drawing of a meal ring was not
noted by the writer, but was by his son). The women advance and
sprinkle the remaining meal on the seething mass. The snakes go every
which way, but are carried, or herded, back into the pile. Some almost
reach the audience and shrieks and squeals of alarm result. Then the
snakes are gathered up in hands-full by the Snake priests — whether all
eight participate cannot be noted in the confusion — and they run rapidly
in all directions out of the plaza. The Antelope priests now resume their
circular march, somewhat interferred with by the dispersing crowd, many
of whom go to the outer edges of the mesa, to watch the Snake priests
running down the trails. Thus the dance ends.
We went to the south side of the mesa, and saw two of the Snake
priests far below, almost at the lower edge of the cliff. They ran further
out and were seen to stop not far beyond the base of the cliff, and then
come slowly back up the trail. This was at 6:50. (Sunset at 6:42 per
almanac) . Unfortunately the time when the snakes were thrown into the
pile was not noted. The Antelope priests were seen to go back into one
of the kivas. The Snake priests had dropped their turtle rattles and some
of the other paraphernalia at the top of the cliff. The two gatherers were
seen to return and enter a kiva. The taking of the emetic, and its con-
sequent result were not observed, although this part of the cermeony may
have taken place. The crowd at this time was dispersing in all directions,
and confusion and dust were everywhere.
18
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
THE DANCE FROM THE HERPETOLOGICAL STANDPOINT
We now discuss the dance from the viewpoint of the herpetologist,
particularly considering how these Indians handle, in this seemingly care-
less fashion, snakes known to be dangerously venomous.
It would appear desirable, first, to describe in somewhat more detail
the method whereby the snakes are captured and handled prior to, and
during, the public ceremony; likewise the species and numbers of indi-
viduals employed.
It seems to be agreed by those who have made the most careful in-
vestigation of the ritual, that the ceremonial snake-hunts occupy four days ;
the hunting period of four days may begin with the first day of the nine
as at Oraibi (Hotevila), the second as at Mishongnovi, or the third as at
Walpi, the public snake dance taking place on the last day of the nine.
These official snake-hunts (to the north, west, south and east on successive
days) are conducted by the Snake priests after — and with — duly prescribed
rites, and these four hunts evidently result in securing most of the speci-
mens which are utilized in the subsequent dance. At the same time other
specimens appear to be entirely acceptable, and there are numerous ref-
erences (by observers who attended the secret ceremonies within the Snake
kiva each day) to specimens of both rattlers and harmless species brought
in by unofficial hunters ; some by Snake priests not on duty, others by Hopi
having no connection with the ritual, the latter having to be delivered to
the Snake priests outside of the kiva. Whereas the priests, on their
hunts, take with them bags of buckskin or canvas in which to carry their
catches, the unofficial contributors brought in their donations tied up in
their shirts or trousers, which they had removed for the purpose. It may
be presumed that these unofficial catches result from chance contacts witn
snakes during the time when the accumulation is known throughout the
village to be in progress.
Subsequent to the four days of the official hunts at the cardinal points
of the compass, the Snake priests may engage in additional searches in any
direction, particularly if the crop up to that time is deemed inadequate
for the prospective rite.^^
The ceremonial snake hunts are conducted, regardless of the heat, with
great energy. Usually there are some eight to twelve priests engaged in
the ciuest (often fewer on the first day) ; they scatter about over both
mesas and the lowlands, generally in pairs, searching intensively from
morning until the early evening. A late start is often necessary because
of the lengthy ceremony which must be enacted before each day's snake
The Indian.s are noting with regret the indiscriminate destruction of snakes
by whites, which is causing an increasing scarcity of material for the ceremony.
The Hopi, although not free from fear of snakes, seldom harm them; whether this
be due to their religious significance or whether the Indians appreciate the eco-
nomic value of the reptiles in controlling the rodents which take toll of their crops,
is not known.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
19
hunt starts. (My own experience would lead me to expect the best hunt-
ing at from eight to ten in the morning in this area at this time of year) .
Not only are snakes taken where found resting in the shade under
bushes, but likewise a definite efiort is made to secure them by following
their tracks, and the Snake priests work energetically in excavating holes
into which tracks give evidence that snakes have sought refuge. These
excavations are made with Indian digging sticks, or more often in recent
years with hoes; these tools can be used for no other purpose during the
ceremony. Dorsey and Voth (1902, p. 183) observed that the Indians
apparently had no fear m plunging their hands to the bottom of holes
which were presumed to contain snakes.
When a snake has been found, it is picked up immediately behind the
head if outstretched ; or, if it coils and shows fight, it is teased and
brushed with one of the feathered snake-wands until it uncoils and at-
tempts to escape, whereupon with great quickness it is seized behind the
head and handled in a safe manner. The catches are deposited in the
snake bags carried for the purpose. Many hunts result fruitlessly for
numbers of the priests engaged, a situation which will gain the sympathy
of the field herpetologist.
ihis description is a condensation of the reports of several writers,
but it should be stated that few of these had an opportunity to accompany
the hunters in the field, and smaller still was the number actually witness-
ing the capture of a snake. The derails of the hunt must be considered
largely the summarized statements of the priests themselves.
Throughout the reports of the hunts there is woven an evident and
definite thread of dislike upon the part of the priests to permit observation
of this phase of the ceremony. Whereas several of the ethnologists seem
to have gained the confidence of the Indians and were admitted to prac-
tically all, if not all, of the so-called secret rites of the ceremony enacted
in the kiva, these, when they endeavored to accompany the priests on
the snake hunts, were discouraged so successfully that actual eye witnesses
were indeed few. Some were told that no white man could keep pace
with the Indians in their strenuous hunts afield; and, when they insisted
on going, were allowed to accompany a pair of priests so old and with
such poor eye-sight, that a fruitless search was a foregone conclusion.
Other’ observers, although attempting to keep up, could not do so. Where
witnesses have been able to accompany the Indians, those followed, on
that day at least, returned empty handed. Only two seem to have been
able to describe the catching ’of a rattlesnake from personal observation.
Fewkes (1895) called the chief Snake priest’s attention to a hole into
which he had seen a rattler take refuge, but the chief would not dig it
out "in my presence, so carefully do they preserve this one feature of
the ceremony, the capture of the reptiles in the open.”
There is evident, then, a decided preference upon the part of the
Indians for catching their snakes unobserved. Whether this be due to
See Appendix 1, p. 68.
20
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
superstition, or to the defanging theory of Curtis (1922) which is pre-
sented elsewhere, is not known. Some question arises as to why the Indians
should be so secretive in their hunts, if only for religious reasons, for
these would apply equally to the other rites in the kivas, and to this extent
the Curtis theory might be considered strengthened. However, on the other
side it may be said that the ceremonial hunts are of such intense religious
significance, and the disturbance of the ritual, by the intrusion of non-
fraternity members, so fraught with danger of the most serious con-
sequences, that during these four days the fields are virtually abandoned,
and, in fact, the laity hardly dare to stir abroad from their homes.
After the snakes have been brought in the bags to the kiva, they are
transferred to various sacred jars, which are simdlar to water jars, except
that an extra hole, to facilitate handling, has been punched in the side of
each. These jars, when full of reptiles, have the holes plugged with corn
cobs. Occasionally open basins are used, these being inverted and the
snakes kept beneath. The transference of the snakes to the jars for the
first time is another rite of which the Indians are exceedingly jealous.
Dorsey and Voth (1902) noted particularly how they were circumvented
in their endeavors to see this done; they had only to leave the kiva for a
few moments and on their return the snakes were found transferred.
Subsequent to this time, during the days of the ritual which intervene
between the catching of the reptiles and their ceremonial washing at noon
of the ninth day, there appears to be some variation in the method of
keeping them. Fewkes (1894), Roosevelt (1913), and Curtis (1922)
state definitely that the snakes are given at least partial freedom in the
kiva on one or more days; other authors indicate that they are kept con-
tinuously in the jars. There is probably a difference in practice in this
regard amongst the several towns. In any case the confinement brings
them in close contact with human beings, for the kiva is occupied almost
continuously by the priests, engaged in ceremony in the daytime and
sleeping there (as is required by the ritual) at night.
Curtis (1922) states that the snakes are segregated by species in the
jars; others report such a segregation when they are finally placed in sacks
to be transported to the kisi. Some state that especially large specimens
are selected by individual carriers prior to the ceremony, although it is not
made clear how this could be done unless each carrier takes specimens to
the plaza, which does not seem to be the customary procedure.
All observers agree that there is incautious (but not inconsiderate)
handling of snakes within the kiva during these days of ceremony. Both
rattlers and harmless species, when at liberty, roam about amongst the
priests and have little or no attention paid to them. During certain of
the rites they are herded to one side, usually by means of the snake-wands.
When it is necessary to handle them, as, for instance, when they are re-
turned to the jars, or during the final washing ceremony, no effort seems
to be made to manipulate the rattlers safely by holding them immedi-
ately behind the head ; on the contrary they are picked up quite at random.
One photograph of the washing ceremony demonstrates definitely that the
rattlers are not grasped behind the head. Mindeleff (1886 a) mentions
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
21
two small rattlers being handled in the kiva with no precautions of any
kind. However, it must not be understood that the snakes are roughly
handled in the kiva; while a certain indifference to danger is evident, care
is used that the snakes are not injured in any way. This may be due to
the part which the snakes play in the religious ceremony, or it may result
from a desire to avoid accidents.
To the rule of gentle handling there is one exception which constitutes
a part of the ceremony at Walpi. At this town, for the washing ceremony,
there is erected a more elaborate altar,^^ including a sand mosaic, whereas
in the other towns only a plain bed of sand is used for drying the snakes.
After dipping the snakes in the sacred bowl at Walpi, they are hurled
quite violently upon the mosaic, whereas in the other villages they are
dropped or laid gently on the sand. But a single blow of this kind will
be resented by a snake only momentarily, particularly if it senses thereafter
a chance to escape. This has been verified with captured specimens in
the laboratory.
After the washing ceremony the snakes are given the liberty of one
end of the kiva for about two hours, before they are placed in the large
bags for transport to the kisi. During this time they roam about without
much restraint, unless they become too troublesome to the priests engaged
in putting the final touches on their costumes. The snakes are generally
tended by two or three of the neophytes, who thoroughly enjoy the duty.
Those which stray too far are herded back with feathered snake-wands;
a few of the more venturesome and persistent are picked up and re-
deposited at their end of the kiva, the boys handling the rattlers quite as
freely as the racers or bull snakes.
In the dance itself necessarily less consideration is given to the snakes.
It is impossible to hold, with lips or teeth, a heavy snake some six to
eight inches behind the head without exerting considerable pressure,
especially if participating in a dance at the time. However, even here
they are handled as gently as is possible under the circumstances. Bourke
(1884), Mindeleff (1886a), and Scott in Donaldson (1893) report that
the mouth of the carrier is filled with some substance like clay or meal,
thus furnishing a greater bearing area on the snake, by which means
pinching is reduced. This is not verified by subsequent writers. It may
be very definitely stated, as noted by all observers, including the writer,
that no attempt is made by the carrier to grasp the snake by what would
be a safe hold, that is to say, immediately behind the head. On the con-
trary the grip is from four to ten or twelve inches behind the head, de-
pending on the length of the snake, and this statement is true regardless
of whether the snake be a rattler or non-venomous. Sometime two snakes
are carried together; rarely a carrier has been seen to hold four in his
mouth at once. Small snakes are carried with only the head protruding from
23 Not to be confused with the altar in the Antelope kiva, which always in-
cludes a sand mosaic, but which is not used for drying snakes.
22
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
the mouth. Only at the West Mesa dance-^ does the carrier use his hands
to assist in supporting the snake; in the other towns it hangs unsupported
in the carrier's mouth. Some writers believe the Oraibi method to be
nearer to the ancestral form of the dance; this is indicated in some ot
the pueblos of the Rio Grande valley, where a modified snake dance is
still practiced, the snakes being held in the hands only, and usually behind
the head in such a way that there is no danger to the carrier, if indeed
venomous snakes be used at all.
Some observers report that the snakes are rather carefully deposited
on the ground when the carrier has finished with them; others state that
they are dropped or thrown with a flirt of the head. Probably both
methods are used. One writer reported that the snakes were dropped
precipitately if they acted in a dangerous fashion. No doubt the shock
of landing has an adverse effect upon the snakes’ dispositions, in con-
sequence of which they are more lively when it becomes the gatherer’s
duty to pick them up, than when in the possession of the carrier. This
was quite clearly observed by the writer at Mishongnovi in 1931. How-
ever, this is partly because the snake senses, upon reaching the ground,
a possible opportunity to escape.
Most observers agree that the gatherer, in picking up the snakes
allotted to him, uses little care in seizing them, that is, to get such a grip
on the rattlers as would protect him in case they desire to bite. Bourke
(1884) and Curtis (1922) state that the gatherer picked up the snakes
immediately behind the head. Other observers report that the individuals
are seized in this way only if they show fight. Certainly in the dance
observed by the writer this year, the gatherer was seen to pick up several
rattlers at mid-body and subsequently they were held in this way, although,
as previously noted, toward the end of the dance all of the rattlers were
being held closely behind the head.
The number of snakes used in the dance varies from as few as twenty
(McKee at Mishongnovi, 1929) to somewhat over a hundred at Walpi,
the latter figure being given by a number of observers. It varies with the
number of Indian participants. Townshend (1904) mentions one hundred
and twenty; James (1900) gives the maximum number as one hundred
and fifty, while Holder (1901) increases this to two hundred and fifty,
but it may be presumed that an accurate count was not made. Bourke
(1884) was told by an Indian that as many as five hundred were occasion-
ally used, but this may be safely considered an exaggeration. Most
observers state the proportion of rattlesnakes to be from fifty to sixty-five
per cent of the total; however, Mindeleff (1886a) gives the percentage
as twenty, and Townshend about thirty. McKee, with an accurate count
at Mishongnovi in 1929, noted thirty-five per cent rattlers. When I saw
the dance in 1931 at the same town, the proportion of rattlesnakes was
ten out of forty-one, or twenty-four per cent.
Some observers have stated definitely that the Indians prefer rattle-
Formerly at Oraibi but now transferred to Hotevila.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
23
snakes. No doubt they have a deeper significance in the rite, and it is
stated that in the dramatic presentation of the myth upon which the dance
is based, which takes place in the Antelope kiva, the reptile held by the
Snake Youth is always a rattler.-^ It is my judgment that rattlesnakes are
the commonest species found on the Hopi-Navaho plateau, and if the
number of rattlers is not at least equal to the number of bull snakes it
would indicate that, for the public ceremonial, the latter are preferred.
There is every evidence that the Hopi generally fear rattlers, although
they seldom molest them. It was clearly to be observed at Mishongnovi
in 1931 that the Antelopes would not touch the rattlers; however, this is
rather to be expected, since it is stated that some Antelopes belong to
that fraternity, rather than to the Snakes, on account of their fear of
rattlers.
As to the Snake priests themselves, there is a general agreement that
these, including the little boys lately initiated, show absolutely no fear of
the rattlers during the ceremonies in the kiva, and I observed that neither
carriers nor gatherers indicated the slightest disposition to be apprehensive
of the rattlers at Mishongnovi in 1931. But several writers comment on
the fact that the Snake priests evince this lack of fear only during the
time of the ceremonial, and attribute this either to religious exaltation, or
some protective remedy which the priests are presumed to possess.
As to the species used in the dance, all writers agree that they are
primarily rattlers, bull snakes, and racers. Of the references consulted
by the writer, only McKee (1929) gives these their scientific names, so
that definite species are indicated only in this instance, except that Yarrow
in Mindeleff (1886 b) identifies the rattler. Bourke (1884) states that
an Indian told him that fourteen different kinds of snakes were used ; he
mentions the five principal ones by their Indian names and four by their
common names, that is, rattlesnakes, bull snakes, racers, and water snakes.
Edwardy (1889) mentions rattlesnakes of two colors, garter snakes, whip
snakes, and common house snakes. Fewkes (1894) refers to rattlesnakes,
ground snakes, and arrow snakes ; he mentions a fourth species, but gives
only the Indian name for this. Ford (1926) refers to the snakes as
mostly rattlers and blue racers. Lawrence (1925) mentions several large
rattlers, two or three bull snakes, racers, and whip snakes. Newcomb
(1931) catalogs rattlesnakes, king snakes, red racers, and gopher snakes.
Townshend (1926) lists rattlers, bull snakes, whip snakes, and racers.
Voth (1903) states that bull snakes, rattlers, and racers are used. Roose-
velt (1913) lists rattlers, bull snakes, and ribbon snakes; he also mentions
sidewinders. Obviously the common names employed are too indefinite to
warrant any fixed conclusions as to the species actually available.
The terms "bull snake” and "gopher snake” are known to be inter-
changeable; snakes of the genus Pituophis are generally referred to as
gopher snakes in California, and parts of Nevada and Arizona, whereas
25 Fewkes (1894) reports a gopher snake used at Walpi in 1891.
24
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
further to the east, and particularly in Texas, they are known as bull
snakes. Without question (as verified by the writer at Mishongnovi) the
form used in these snake dances is the subspecies dehned by Van Denburgh
as the Ari2ona Gopher Snake {Pituophis catenifer rutilus) this is the
common gopher or bull snake of Arizona south and east of the Colorado
River, which species is quite plentiful throughout that part of the State.
(Plate 1, figs. 1-2.) Accounts of the dance mention specimens seven feet
long, but this may be considered doubtful in northern Arizona; further
south they undoubtedly reach that length.
The snakes which are usually referred to in the reports as racers,
whip snakes, arrowheads, or ribbon snakes, are the Great Basin Striped
Racer {Aiasticophis taeniatus taeniatus) , which is widespread throughout
the Great Basin at least as far south as central Arizona, and even ranges
to the tableland of Mexico. (Plate 1, figs. 3-4.) There could be no doubt
as to the identification of the six specimens which the writer saw at the
Mishongnovi dance. This species reaches a length of somewhat under six
feet.
These two species without question comprise the majority of the non-
venomous snakes which are utilized; they were the only ones observed by
McKee in 1929 or the writer in 1931; they are the only species which
can be accurately identified from past photographs of the dance.
As to whether water snakes (i.e., garter snakes of the genus Thanino-
phis) , or king snakes are employed cannot be stated with certainty. Both
are, no doubt, possible, since they may be presumed to occur in the Hopi
territory. The garter snakes, if used, might be either Thatnnophis eques,
the White-bellied Garter Snake, or Thamnophis ordinoides vagrans, the
Wandering Garter Snake. Presumably the Indians would not use these
often, first becase of their relatively small size; and secondly, their dis-
agreeable odor and habits. Fewkes (1894) was told by the Hopi they
would use any kind of snakes except water (i.e. garter) snakes.
As to the king snakes, three species may possibly occur in this vicinity,
these being Boyle’s King Snake {Latupropeltis getidus boylii), the Arizona
Coral King Snake {Lampropeltis pyro7nelana) , and the Western King
Snake {Lampropeltis triangulum gentilis) . If available at all, they are
probably not often used, first because of relative rarity; and secondly, as
suggested by McKee (1929) owing to their cannibalistic habits toward
other snakes. The Hopi, for both religious and practical reasons, would
certainly object to the king snakes attacking the smaller specimens of the
other species, including rattlers.
One or two observers report red racers ; this may result from confusion
with the Great Basin Striped Racer, on account of the pink posterior
under-body of the latter, or may indicate that the Hopi secure specimens
of the true Red Racer {Aiasticophis flagellum fretiatus).
The occurrence of this snake is doubtful in Tusayan. It would hardly
26
Pituophis sayi affinis of some herpetologists.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
25
be popular with the Hopi, even though obtainable, on account of its
notably vicious disposition. In this regard the readily available racer,
the Great Basin Striped Racer, is fortunately much to be preferred, as it is
distinctly less vicious than most other racers. The Blue Racer is mentioned
in more than one account, but we have no evidence that the western sub-
species of this form. Coluber constrictor mormon occurs in this area.
In the relatively inaccessible Hopi and Navaho reservations compara-
tively little herpetological collecting has been done and therefore one
cannot by any means be certain what species of snakes may be found
there, notwithstanding quite complete data available from adjacent areas,
especially Arizona southward of the Santa Fe Ry. and Utah beyond the
Colorado. Several of the moderate sized snakes which may possibly occur
on the Hopi-Navaho plateau are the Western Hog-nosed Snake
{Heterodon nasicus')^ Western Patch-nosed Snake {Salvadora grahamiae
hexalepis) , Western Faded Snake [Arizona elegans occidentalis) , and
Long-nosed Snake [Rhinocheilus lecontei) . Other smaller and more insig-
nificant species may likewise be found in the territory, as, for instance,
the Arizona Ring-necked Snake [Diadophis regalis regalis). Spotted Night
Snake (Hypsiglena ochrorhynchus) , Ringed Ground Snake (Sonora semi-
amudata) , and one of the Tantillas. These, however, if present, are so
small that they probably would not be employed in the dance even if
available. It is true that a number of observers have noticed Indians in the
dance carrying one or more small snakes with heads protruding from their
mouths. These may have been either small species, or the young of some
of the forms ordinarily used in the dance, which would be born about the
time of the annual ceremony. But these are speculations only.
Summarizing the known data on the non-venomous snakes used in the
dance, we can make a positive statement only with reference to two
species, namely, the Arizona Gopher (or Bull) Snake {Pituophis catenifer
rutilus) and the Great Basin Striped Racer (Masticophis taeniatiis taeni-
atus) which certainly comprise the majority of non-venomous snakes em-
ployed. The use of garter and king snakes, and other, rarer forms, is
possible but not verified. Yarrow (in Mindeleff, 1886 b), the only
herpetologist to observe more than two non-venomous forms, unfortunate-
ly did not record the species.
Aside from rattlers, the only dangerously venomous snake occurring in
the Great Basin is the Arizona Coral Snake (Micrurus euryxanthus) . It
has never been reported from the Hopi territory, and from what is known
of its range^'’’ its occurrence there may be considered highly improbable.
We now come to the rattlesnakes, which are, from the spectacular
standpoint, the most important reptiles used in the ritual; also it is stated
that the Indians prefer rattlesnakes to the other species, as having a
deeper religious significance. In fact, the word "snake” as used in the
27 Southern New Mexico, southern and western Arizona, with a doubtful rec-
ord from southwestern Utah.
26
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
Indian tongue in describing the clan, fraternity, and ceremony, means
rattlesnake, rather than the more generalized suborder. It occurs to me
that the likeness of the sound of the rattle to the hiss of a heavy rain may
also cause the Hopi to prefer rattlers.
The writers whose works I have seen on the dance merely refer to the
venomous snakes used as "rattlesnakes” without naming the species, with
the exception of McKee (1929) who notes them to be Crotalus conjluen-
tus, "of a greyer hue than those near the Grand Canyon,” Yarrow (in
Mindelelf, 1886 b), who refers to them as the Spotted Rattlesnake {Cro-
talus confluentus) , and James (1899 b), who lists C. confluentus and C.
cerastes.
Arizona contains the greatest number of species and subspecies of
rattlesnakes (a total of 14) found in any territory of equivalent size. As
these forms differ widely in adult size, disposition, venom-toxicity, etc., it
is of importance to note which species is used in this dance. The situation
is not as complicated as might be anticipated, for a careful investigation
of the ranges, as far as at present known, of the rattlesnakes occurring m
Arizona indicates that only a single subspecies is to be found in the Hopi-
Navaho territory, this being the Prairie Rattlesnake {Crotalus confluentus
confluentus) . This was the only form used when positive identifications
were made by Yarrow, McKee, and the writer.
Nothing contained in the descriptions by past observers leads one to
suspect the use of any other species or subspecies, save certain references
to size and some rather indefinite descriptive terms. A number of observ-
ers mention five-foot rattlesnakes, a length probably never attained by
the Prairie Rattlesnake in Arizona. I have made measurements of
221 rattlesnakes of this subspecies, from Arizona and from western
New Mexico, and the longest recorded was 39 inches, the majority
being considerably shorter. A very large number of additional speci-
ment have been seen alive and none of these, as far as my memory
serves me, exceeded four feet, much less reaching five. I do not think
any that I saw used in the dance could have exceeded three and a half
feet. It is true that this subspecies reaches a somewhat larger size else-
where in its range, especially in Kansas and Nebraska, but even there, a
length of five feet is somewhat doubtful.-* There is one rattler found in
Arizona, the Western or Desert Diamond Rattlesnake {Crotalus atrox) ,
which reaches a length considerably in excess of five feet, and three others,
namely, the Mohave Rattlesnake {Crotalus scutulatus) , the Pacific Rattle-
snake {Crotalus confluentus oreganus) , and the Blacktailed Rattlesnake
{Crotalus molossus) which certainly attain four feet and may rarely reach
five; but none of these has ever been reported from the Hopi-Navaho
area, although all occur that far to the north in western Arizona. We
therefore reach the conclusion that, unless rattlers are imported for the
"This rattlesnake (C. c. confluentus) grows to its largest size in the Upper
Missouri region.” E. D. Cope, American Naturalist, Vol. 13, p. 435.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
27
ceremony from distant points, the statement that five-foot specimens were
seen must be an exaggeration.
The only additional hints of other species are contained in the accounts
Edwardy (1889), James (1899b), Hough (1910), Roosevelt (1913),
and Forrest (1929). Hough states that two species of rattlers are used,
but gives no clue as to their classification. I am rather of the opinion
that the two color phases of the Prairie Rattler, as described below, were
meant.
Edwardy (1889) mentions small black rattlers; also yellow and brown
rattlers. The darker colors of the younger snakes, or the stunted color
phase discussed hereafter, would be sufficient to suggest this difference.
Roosevelt mentions "sidewinders.” Knowing the looseness with which
this term is employed in the southwest, and that it is likely to be applied
to any small rattlesnake, we may assume that the true Sidewinder {Crotalus
cerastes) was not thereby indicated, for this species occurs in Arizona
only in the southern and western parts of the state. This also would ex-
plain the similar statement by James (1899 b).
Forrest refers to the rattlers as being the "desert sidewinder and the
big desert diamond-backed rattler.” I think by the latter name he is re-
ferring to the Prairie Rattler (C. c. confluentus) , since otherwise he would
certainly have mentioned this form, which, even if other species were
available, would always be in the majority.
Thus we may conclude, as observed by Yarrow, McKee, and the
writer, that Crotalus confluentus confluentus is the only rattler used in
the ceremony.
The Prairie Rattlesnake, as it occurs in this plateau region, seems to
consist of two rather distinct phases, which long ago would have been
considered separate subspecies, were it not for the fact that they occupy,
at least to a partial extent, the same territory, and that numerous inter-
mediate specimens are to be found.
These two forms are what might be termed a large green and a small
red. The large green, which does not differ greatly from the character-
istic specimens of eastern Colorado and Kansas, except that it is some-
what greener and usually does not have a light line surrounding the dark
blotches, is found widespread in western New Mexico, northeastern Ari-
zona, and on the Coconino Plateau south of the Grand Canyon. (Plate 2,
fig. 1 ) . The small red form, which often takes on a grayish or brownish
tint, centers in the Little Colorado Basin, and has been collected in large
numbers about Canyon Diablo, Dennison, Winslow, and Holbrook. (Plate
2, fig. 2). A study of these specimens indicates that they are certainly
not the young of the large green form, this being indicated both by the
character of the rattles, and the finding of embryos in females of a size
that would be immature amongst the large greens. About the periphery
of this Little Colorado area are found snakes which appear to be inter-
mediate between the large green and the small red phases. Some of
these are pinkish-gray in color, others olive-green, and both might be
judged intergrades between the two distinct phases. (Plate 3). This, of
28
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
course, is a situation indicating two definite and well differentiated sub-
species ; however, throughout the territory of the small reds there are to
found occasional full sized greens and intermediate olive-greens as well.
Thus we have a problem of relationship, which further study may eluci-
date; fortunately rather large series are already available.
As noted in the description of the dance, the writer observed at Mis-
hongnovi in 1931 that, out of ten rattlesnakes emiployed, seven were large
greens, two were intermediate olive-greens and one was a small red. The
large green is without doubt the prevalent form about the Hopi mesas.
Whether, with more rapid means of transportation now available to
the Indians, snakes are occasionally brought from greater distances is not
known. Realizing that the priests will accept snakes prior to the day of
the dance from outsiders, that is, non-fraternity members, it would be far
from impossible for the small red and two intermediates to have been
brought in by home-coming Indians from distant points. My son and I
caught two fine specimens of the small red rattler on the way northward
from Holbrook on the morning of the dance, and saw others crushed by
prior cars.2^
The possibility of the Indian snake ceremonies having in ancient times
caused modifications of the ranges of some species is a matter of specu-
lation. Dances of a type similar to the Hopi ritual were widespread
amongst the Pueblo tribes; Aspejo noted in 1583 that the Indians "juggled
with snakes” at Acoma (N. M.) and later writers have observed snake
ceremonies in the Rio Grande Pueblos. On a less elaborate scale they
have been noted in Mexico and in California. Lummis (1925) states
that some of the Pueblo villages kept sacred rattlers which grew to a
large size.
Having determined that the Prairie Rattler, in two color phases, is
probably the only venomous snake available to, and used by these Indians,
we may make certain comments on this form. Crotalus confluentus con-
fluentus is to be considered a moderately dangerous snake amongst the
rattlers. Hutchison (1930) reports on 781 cases of snake bite in 1928
and 1929, in which the species of snake causing the accident was known;
of these 128 were C. c. confluentus or the closely related C. c. oreganus
(the Pacific Rattlesnake) . There were 8 fatalities, or somewhat over 6
per cent; most of the non-fatal cases, however, had the advantage of anti-
venin treatment; this is, therefore, not a fair indication of the mortality
that might be expected amongst Indians.
The venom of C. c. confluentus is small in quantity but rather highly
toxic as compared to other rattlers. I have found adults of this sub-
species to yield, on the average, about 0.055 gram of venom (dry basis)
Other species, notably C. atrox, C. molossus and C. ruber yield far greater
quantities.
See Appendix 2, p. 81.
.■^0 This is equivalent to 0.22 cc. of clear, settled liquid venom as removed
from the snake.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
29
The minimum lethal dose (M.L.D.) of C. c. confluentus venom, for
350 gram pigeons, has been determined by Githens and George (1931)
to be 0.08 mg., as compared with 0.14 mg. for C. atrox, 0.4 mg. for
C. molossus, and 0.6 mg. for C. ruber. Thus we see that the lack of
quantity is partly compensated by definitely higher toxicity. The bite of
a full grown specimen, with fully charged venom glands, would no doubt
be quite serious and even dangerous, especially to children. This is indi-
cated, not only by the results above cited, but by actual investigations of
fatal and near-fatal cases.
These, then, are the data with which the final problem must be ap-
proached; The Hopi Indians handle freely and rather incautiously, in their
religious ritual, snakes known to be dangerously venomous. To employ
a current colloquialism; "How do they do it?”
Many have been the theories advanced and the definite statements made
as to how this is done, with so few, if any, serious accidents. Some of
these may be listed as follows;
A — Conditions Affecting the Audience
1. The audience is suffering from some form of group hypnotism.
2. The audience is not qualified to distinguish venomous from non-
venomous species.
B — Conditions Affecting the Snake Priests
1. The priests have taken an internal protective medicine prior to
the dance.
2. They possess knowledge of antidotes, internal, external, or both,
which taken after an accident, quickly render rattlesnake bite innocuous
and even painless.
3. Sucking, cauterizing, and arresting the circulation by tourniquets
are resorted to in case of accident.
4. The priests are so purified by the ceremonial emetic as to be im-
mune.
5. They are smeared with a preparation so disagreeable to the snakes
(as, for instance, in odor) that the latter will not bite.
6. They are covered with an invulnerable preparation, as, for instance,
a thick paint.
7. They are so healthy from outdoor life that rattlesnake bite does
not affect them.
8. They have an immunity resulting from a long fast prior to the
dance.
9. They build up an immunity by increasing doses of venom, as is
done with horses in the preparation of antivenin.
10. They have a mysterious hypnotic power over the snakes, akin
to that said to be possessed by the snake-charmers of India.
30
Bulletin 9- Zoological Society of San Diego
11. They are fearless of snakes, which, therefore, are without power
to bite them.
12. They are protected by the religious exaltation of the ritual.
13. They are actually bitten with serious results, of which outsiders
are kept in ignorance.
C — ^Conditions Affecting the Rattlesnakes
1. The snakes’ fangs, venom glands, or both have been removed.
2. Their mouths have been sewed closed.
3. They have expended their venom on harmless snakes or other
objects in the kiva.
4. They have been milked of their venom in the kiva.
5. They are tame snakes used repeatedly in successive years.
6. They have been lately tamed by handling.
7. They are doped or hypnotized.
8. They are starved into submission.
9. They are blinded by the sacred meal, or paralyzed by the tobacco
fumes from the ceremonial smokes in the kiva.
10. August is the blind season for rattlers; they cannot see to strike.
11. They are invariably held in such a way that they cannot bite.
12. The eagle feather snake-wands prevent their biting.
13 They cannot strike because they are nor permitted to coil.
14. Rattlers are relatively innocuous anyway.
It is obvious that these suggested solutions are of varying degrees of
plausibility; some are much more deserving of investigation than others.
Further, many are to a considerable degree interrelated ; they cannot be
discussed individually without undue repetition. Therefore, in what fol-
lows, I shall not adhere to the order of this list, but will attempt to cover
by groups some of the more important and logical theories.
First I think we may profitably group or summarize these theories as
follows:
A. Conditions affecting the audience
B. Conditions affecting the priests
a. Natural
b. Acquired
C. Conditions affecting the snakes
a. Natural
b. Acquired
Under Bb would come all the various immunizers and antidotes that
have been suggested. Under Ca may be discussed the natural condition
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
31
of the snakes, the actual degree of seriousness of a bite by this species
(already mentioned), and their readiness to bite in the wild state. Under
Cb would be treated the effect of captivity, and definite provisions for the
prevention of accidents as, for instance, by defanging.
As to the conditions affecting the audience, these may quickly be dis-
missed. I only mention group hypnotism, as this is so often given as
the solution of the boy-rope trick in India. With reference to distinguish-
ing snakes, while we may readily agree that many people cannot distinguish
rattlers from harmless snakes, and some, in fact, do not know what con-
stitutes a rattle, or that all rattlesnakes possess this appendage,^^^ never-
theless thousands of entirely competent witnesses can testify that the Hopi
do carry live rattlesnakes in their mouths.
It will be advisable to depart from the order in which the several
theories are grouped, and to consider, first, what might be expected of the
rattlesnakes, both in the wild state and in captivity, eliminating the effects
of either antidotes on the priests, or special preventive measures (as de-
fanging) on the rattlers, except for such effects as captivity alone might
produce. In other words: What are the dispositions of the rattlesnakes —
how likely are they to bite and under what circumstances?
There is considerable public misapprehension on this point. It seems
to be widely believed that rattlers always bite on the slightest provocation
or, one might almost say, with none at alP^ — that merely to approach
under any circumstances within striking distance of a snake invariably
means a bite. This, of course, is far from the fact. Rattlesnakes have
their venom primarily to secure their prey; its use in offense or defense
is secondary, and they will not waste venom except for good cause. Rat-
tlesnakes bite through fear in defense, rather than because of any inate
vindictiveness. A truly aggressive rattlesnake (not one pictured as aggres-
sive by a frightened passer-by who stumbles upon it) is rare indeed. The
result of the usual chance encounter betvv^een rattlesnake and man is that
both take to their heels, the one figuratively, the other actually. The rattler
often faces his foe in the striking or defensive coil; but while in this
posture he moves backwards or sidewards toward the nearest protective
bush or rock. The fleeing man, glancing back over his shoulder to see
if he is being followed, interprets this as aggression.
It is true that rattlesnakes differ in temperament considerably, not only
between species, but amongst the individuals of a single species. From
Based on conversations overheard in the reptile house of a 200.
3^ I have heard visitors at the reptile house express surprise that more than
one rattler could be kept in a cage without their attacking each other; many people
assume without question that they will attack harmless snakes. But I have never-
seen a rattler attack any snake, although he will put up a rather weak defense
against an aggressive king snake or racer. Put a rat and a rattler in a cage together
and, as often as otherwise, the rat will kill the rattler, particularly if the rattler is
not hin the mood for feeding, which it seldom is, in captivity. The rat will attack
the rattler as soon as it becomes hungry; if other food is available it will pay no
attention to the rattler.
32
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
observation of adult specimens, I would consider the Prairie Rattler as
intermediate in temperament, falling between the generally nervous and
occasionally aggressive Western Diamond Rattler {Crotalus atrox), and
the notably placid Red Diamond Rattler {Crotalus ruber).
These remarks are applicable to rattlers as met in the wild state; it
now becomes necessary to determine the effect of captivity, for it must be
remembered that the rattlesnakes used in the dance have been kept in
confinement for about a week. To do this let us first simplify the situation
by divorcing the snake dance ritual of its exotic atmosphere and para-
phernalia. Instead of a group of Indians carrying forward (with great
sincerity and deep religious feeling) an ancient and picturesque rite, let
us consider a similar group of white men. We assume these latter to
have no mysterious hypnotic power founded on an age-old affinity of man
and animal; they will have no secret knowledge of powerful protective
herbs handed down through the centuries. Let our hypothetical group
catch some snakes to the number of twenty or one hundred, of which
from twenty to seventy per cent are Prairie Rattlers and the rest innocuous
gopher snakes and racers. Let these snakes be kept in captivity for a
week, with more or less incidental handling, but without other preliminary
treatment, and then let the final dance ensue. Let these men be such as
are accustomed to handling snakes without either particular fear of them,
or the carelessness of ignorance. (There are many such who handle rat-
tlers quite as a matter of course, as a part of their work or avocation) .
Under the circumstances of this miatter-of-fact program what would be
the result? Well, I should say that about once m two or three years, one
of the participants would be bitten by a rattler, and the outcome there-
from would be painful but rarely fatal (assuming no modern treatment).
And the results with these Indian dancers, seem to be about what would
be expected with the white group, for occasionally a Hopi is bitten.
This difference between what might popularly be expected and the
actual outcome is the result of two factors: First, the lack of inherent vin-
dictiveness in the rattler, which bites only in retaliation of an injury or in
the stress of fear; and, secondly, the notable effect of even a brief cap-
tivity and concurrent contact with man.
All observers agree concerning the lethargic and docile actions of the
rattlers (and the harmless snakes as well) during the dance. A few at-
tribute this to some opiate, presumed to have been given the snakes by
the Indians, but most of the observers (and I think rightly) state that it
is merely the result of the treatment received during the several days (from
one to nine) they have been in captivity in the kiva, sometimes at large,
but usually in close confinement in a water jar.
Almost all snakes, rattlers amongst the number, after confinement for
a short time, particularly if they have been in contact with human beings,
rapidly lose any disposition to show fight or even fear. This is a common
observation in the reptile houses of zoological gardens. As far as I was
able to note the specimens at Mishongnovi in 1931, they acted exactly as
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
33
do our specimens after a few days in captivity at San Diego. They showed
no alarm whatever, nor any tendency to bite. When dropped to the
ground by the carrier or otherwise seriously disturbed, there was a momen-
tary flash of their old spirit and a tendency to coil for defense. Quickly
discouraged by the use of snake-wands, they abandoned this in a natural
endeavor to escape. Captive snakes seem to have a certain realization of
the attitude of one who essays to handle them; fear or hesitation is likely
to result in a hostile defense which is almost aggression, upon the part
of the snake, while a calm assurance discourages any such attempt. I saw
nothing, in my observation of the rattlers and non-venomous snakes at
Mishongnovi that would cause me to suspect any doping, or treatment
other than close confinement, and the handling which they are known to
have sustained in the kiva.
Granting the Indians understand the handling of snakes and that we
need look no further for an explanation of their docile attitude than that
natural to captivity, it must be expected that there will be an occasional
accident and that someone will be bitten. Analyzing the reports of twenty-
six observers and eliminating statements based on hearsay only, that is
those wherein some bystander saw a priest bitten, but not the writer him-
self, we find ten definite reports of participating priests being bitten. Min-
deleff (1886 a) saw a boy of eight with a rattler fastened to his finger.
He did not see the outcome of this case. Oliver (1911) saw a rattler strike
a man just under the ear; it had to be pulled loose. Rinehart (1923) states
that one boy was bitten several times ; he seemed disconcerted and spoke to
the older priests about it (however, this report does not state definitely that
the snake was a rattler) . Lummis (1906) saw a rattler five feet long work
to get ten to twelve inches of neck loose. It then struck the Indian hold-
ing it on the right cheek; the man opened the snake’s jaws and the snake
hung clear to his feet by the fangs. Then the hugger unhooked the snake
and it was dropped to the ground. There was no visible effect. Another
snake bit a dancer on the back of the hand. Scott in Donaldson (1893)
saw two men struck, one in the nose, the other in the upper portion of the
arm. No ill effects were noted. Moran in Donaldson (1893) at another
dance saw a rattlesnake strike a dancer in the right ear; it had to be torn
loose; the ear did not swell. Macfarlane (1913) saw a snake plant a
vicious jab in the cheek of a carrier; red marks appeared but there was
no noticeable effect on the priest’s participation in the ceremony. Supela,
a priest, admitted to Fewkes (1895) that he had been bitten in the hand
by a rattler. After the dance Fewkes could see no ill result. He himself
had not seen the snake strike ; it was reported to him by another observer.
With these few definite experiences we have exactly the same picture
as follows where rattlesnakes are handled anywhere. The Indians, of
course, are not alone in this freedom with snakes; for although they do
not carry rattlers in their mouths, a large number of white persons are
known to handle rattlesnakes with impunity. These snakes, of a variety
of species, in laboratories, in zoological gardens, snake-shows, and the like,
34
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
are handled rather carefully, but usually quite fearlessly. Such rattlers are
rarely defanged or have their venom glands removed, for the experienced
keeper knows how brief will be their tenure of life in captivity as a result
of such treatment. When one talks to those who thus take liberties with
rattlers one hears always the same story; Long periods of immunity and
then, inevitably, some untoward event — a snake dropped, the sudden ap-
pearance of a stranger, the slamming of a door — and a bite results. Almost
always those who handle rattlers frequently, (I mean, of course, not
holding them immediately behind the head, which is an entirely safe grip)
have had two or three such experiences of snake-bite. So with the Indians
in the course of their dance, accidents must occasionally happen, although
by no means frequently. The snakes, normally docile and lethargic, some-
times are frightened or receive a sudden shock and a bite follows; in this
the reports concur.
Having indicated that there is nothing unnatural or inexplicable in
the actions of the snakes toward the priests, it remains to determine what
means, if any, are used to mitigate the effects of such bites as do occur.
Are the snakes rendered innocuous, or are the priests possessed of a power-
ful and effective antidote.^ Or is the bite of a rattler not sufficiently
serious to require the Indians to take steps to minimi2e the effects.^
As to the last point I have presented some data. I should say that
the bite of the Prairie Rattlesnake, while not usually fatal, is serious and
very painful, and would be particularly dangerous to some of the small
boy-priests who take part in the rimal. As fatalities have not been
definitely recorded, and even serious cases have not been personally ob-
served by any who have reported on the dance, we are led to assume that
some preventive measures must be adopted, to take care of the occasional
bites which are known to occur.
First as to immuni2ers and antidotes: Practically all who have investi-
gated the dance report that the priests have an antidote. By some it is
reported to be taken prior to the dance for immuni2ation, by others as an
antidote after one has been bitten. There is, in some accounts, a con-
fusion with the ceremonial emetic, but the more careful investigators
state that the priests sharply differentiate these two preparations. The use
of an antidote, to be employed only in case of snake bite, seems to be
more definitely verified by investigators than the prior immuni2er; the
priests evidently claim the existence of the former, but not the latter. It
is said to be an effusion of herbs which differs amongst the several villages.
Some ethnologists maintain that the secret of the preparation is known
only to one priest, who passes it along on his death-bed; others agree that
it is known to several members of the Snake fraternity.
Of course the Hopi Indians are not alone in possessing cures of this
kind; they are prevalent everywhere amongst primitive people, and, in
fact, some not so primitive. Presumably every Indian tribe in North
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
33
America had such an antidote-^^ for it would be inherent in the very
existence of tribal priest and medicine man, that some steps be taken to
mitigate an accident of this character. The Hopi cure has probably re-
ceived more publicity than the others merely because one of their religious
ceremonies involves the public handling of venomous snakes.
Times without number these native remedies have been tested upon
animals (using untreated controls as checks) and invariably they have
failed to demonstrate any efficacy. One may inquire then, how these
cures gain such wide credence. To answer this requires a discussion of
two points: First, the identification of venomous snakes; and, secondly,
the inherent variability in the result of a bite.
As to the first it may be said that rarely can natives anywhere dis-
tinguish between the venomous and non-venomous snakes of their region.
There are no easy and universal criteria for such a classification. The
popular theory that the venomous snake is short and thick-bodied with a
broad triangular head is only true of some groups; there are slim and
racer-like snakes which are dangerously poisonous, and short, heavy snakes
with wide heads that are quite harmless. As a result of this difficulty in
classification we find, in many areas, harmless snakes which are greatly
feared,^^ and, concurrently, deaths from fear have resulted from the bites
of such harmless snakes.^® Such a case, with a near-fatal conclusion from
heart failure, occurred in San Diego several years ago, the offending
reptile being a harmless, but vicious, gopher snake.
The second point is the great variability in the results from the bite
of a really venomous snake, owing to the number of indeterminate factors
involved, as:
1. Size and health of victim, these being important in determin-
ing resistance to venom.
, A few random references to such cures are as follows:
Creeks, Ann. Rep. Bur. Am. Eth., 42: 645; Mohegan, ibid, 43: 266; Chicasaw,
ibid, 44: 264; Chippewa, ibid, 44: 333; Papago, ibid, 26: 264; Guiana Indians,
ibid, 38: 710; Southern Calif. Indians, West. Am. Scientist, 7: 193; Mescalero,
Bull. 34, Bur. Am. Eth., 237; Opata, ibid. 250; Otomi, ibid, 253. See also "Tales
of the Rattlesnake: From the Works of Early Travelers in America” by Rheua V.
Medden. Chapter on "Remedies.” Bull. Antivenin Inst, of America, Vol. 4, No.
3, pp. 71-75.
See for instance Fayrer, 1874, The Thanatophidia of India, p. 37, p. 42
et seq.; Fitzsimons, 1912, The Snakes of South Africa, p. 314; Brazil, 1914, La
Defense contre L’ Ophidisme, 2nd Ed., p. 221. I am here referring to internal
and external applications of liquids or solids, not suction, or the use of a ligature
to produce slow absorption of venom. With particular reference to reputed Indian
antidotes, Barton stated over a century ago "It is certain, from the testimony of
many persons, that the bite of the rattle-snake has often proved mortal to the
Indians, and others, not withstanding the boasted specificks of these people.” Trans.
Am. Philos. Soc., Vol. 4, p. 81, 1799.
Witness the terrible spreading-adder of the eastern United States, which is
really the harmless and inoffensive Hog-nose Snake {Heterodon) .
36 F. Wall, 1928, The Poisonous Terrestrial Snakes of our British Indian Do-
minions and How to Recognize Them, Fourth Edition, p. 69.
36
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
2. Site of bite, which will be less dangerous in the extremities,
or in tissue where absorption will be less rapid, as compared to a bite
near the vital organs or penetrating a vein.
3. Species and size of snake, affecting venom toxicity, venom
quantity, and (through length and strength of fangs) depth of in-
jection.
4. Condition of venom glands, whether full or partly evacuated
by reason of recent feeding, defense, ill health, or captivity. The
season of the year may also cause a variation.
5. Condition of fangs, whether entire or broken, lately renewed
or ready for shedding,
6. Nature of the bite, whether a direct stroke on a normal surface
with both fangs fully imbedded, or a glancing blow or scratch. In
viperine snakes the fangs may not be fully advanced, and thus may
be partly ineffective.
7. The length of time a snake holds on; it may withdraw or be
torn loose before full injection takes place. This is likely to be more
important with colubrine snakes, with their less specialized fangs,
than with viperine snakes.
8. The number of bites; occasionally an accident involves two or
more distinct strikes.
9. The extent of the anger or fear upon the part of the snake;
it has the power to withhold some, or all of the venom contained in
the glands.
10. The protection offered by clothing, which, by interposing
thickness, will permit less depth of fang penetration, and will cause
the external and harmless absorption of part of the venom.
11. The nature of the first aid treatment, if any, particularly suc-
tion, which is so natural as to be instinctive.
So in the case of snake-bite, there is no formula whereby the outcome
can be predicted. First, the snake may have been harmless; secondly, if
venomous, these variable factors may inhibit full effectiveness. Under
such circumstances can we wonder that amongst primitive peoples many
seemingly miraculous cures result from the use of native medicines 7 The
failures ? — well they are caused by improper application, or the enmity of
the gods.
Remrning to our western Indians, we may eliminate the validating
of antidotes by the bites of harmless snakes. West of the Rockies all
dangerously venomous snakes, except a single rare and secretive coral
2’' We have noted at San Diego that snakes in captivity, particularly under
unnatural conditions, renew their venom less rapidly than occurs in nature.
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
37
snake, are conspicuously advertised by the unique appendage of the rattle.
The Indians would know this. But we still have the variable factors where
the offending reptile is truly venomous, and no doubt these are the bases
of the accepted native cures.
As to the Hopi antidote, Coleman (1928) secured a fresh specimen
and experimented with its use in the protection of guinea pigs against
rattlesnake venom (species not stated) ; he found it entirely ineffective.
I think we may, without appearing unsympathetic or unduly skeptical,
pass by the supposition that the Indians have a truly effective remedy for
rattlesnake bite, particularly when this is claimed to be an internal remedy
for a virulent and rapidly acting poison of the blood.
As a matter of fact, we are unfair to the Indians when we use the
word antidote in referring to their snake-bite preparation, and consider
it as having the physical attributes that such a term connotes to the
physician or scientist. Mindeleff (1886 b) points out that the Indians
do not claim a physiological action for the antidote. Just as they do not
connect the action of snake venom, as a physical liquid, with its harmful
effect on the body of the victim, but prefer to consider the action one of
evil spirit or witchcraft, so the beneficence of the antidote lies, not in the
physical power of the herbs which it contains (for the Indians admit these
are unimportant), but in the chants and ceremonies whereby it is conse-
crated. It IS a protective charm, not an antidote. Fewkes points out that
similar charms are used — -roots, herbs, and effusions — in other rituals where
no antidotes are called for. They are for the purpose of protection, and
to carry out the theme and symbolism of the dance, rather than for a
direct bodily effect. In a similar manner, an initiation into the Snake
fraternity protects a witness to the ceremony of the snake washing, who
would otherwise swell up and burst.^®
As an amusing sidelight it may be recounted that a priest told Dr.
Yarrow in 1883 that he preferred the Hopi cure to the physician’s potassi-
um permanganate syringe; the most recent investigators would probably
agree that the Hopi was fifty years ahead of his time and had the better
of the argument.
Nearly all observers state definitely that the snakes are not treated
in any way, that is, that neither fangs nor venom glands are dismrbed;
that the snakes are neither stupefied nor drugged. To the latter we may
agree, for the snakes in the dance do not act differently from other captive
specimens. The proof of whether or not fangs, and particularly venom
glands, have been tampered with is inconclusive, in the accounts to which
I have had access, since the writers do not state whether the evidence is
observational or hearsay, except in one or two instances, and in these no
technical herpetological details, on which one might judge the accuracy
38 It is a fact that much of the secrecy of this and other ceremonies is not
the result of a desire to conceal something disreputable, but is for the purpose of
protecting the unwary observer or to avoid profaning the rite. See Appendix 1, p.
75.
38
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
of the observations, are given, save in a note by Mindelelf (1886 b) .
Dorsey and Voth (1902), whose carelul and complete investigations
cannot be too highly praised, have stated that the snakes are not treated
in any way, that any such treatment would be entirely contrary to the
religion of the Indians and the symbolism of the dance. Since they
observed practically all of the secret ceremonies, understood the language
of the Indians, and were welcome in the kivas, their observations must
be given due weight. However, this circumstance must be noted — that
through one discouragement or another they failed to see any snakes
captured in the held; and, also, it was only after considerably persuasion
that they were able to see the initial transfer of the snakes from the held-
bags to the storage jars in the kiva.
Lawrence (1925) suggests that the snakes may strike away their venom
in the nine days in the kiva. McKee (1929) thinks the Indians might
render themselves immune by the early innoculation of small doses of
venom, but considers it more probable that the snakes may be permitted
to expend their venom on each other.
Curtis (1922) raises the strongest dissenting voice concerning the
treatment of the snakes; he considers it remarkable that there has been so
little skepticism. He finally secured the confession of one of the priests,
first through an interpreter and later directly, that the fangs of the snakes
are broken off with the thumb nail when they are caught. He says this
is not taught to the novices until they can be trusted, and he cites the
instance of a youngster who was seriously bitten in picking up a wild
rattler, before this part of the rite had been explained to him.^®
There are certain objections to Curtis’ theory. First, it is doubtful
whether, in view of the fact that so many scientists have apparently secured
the entire confidence of the Indians, this important secret could so long
have been concealed. Again it will be remembered that Lummis reports
a rattler hanging from the cheek of an Indian by its fangs. Had the fangs
been removed it is doubtful whether a snake could have hung by the
palatine and pterygoid teeth. Scott in Donaldson (1893) saw fang
punctures in an Indian who had been bitten. James (1899 b) states that
he examined the snakes before, during, and after the ceremony and found
fangs and venom glands untampered with, but he does not give the nature
of the examination nor how he determined the quantity of venom avail-
able. Longembaugh (1916) states that snakes have been examined after
liberation, but gives no details either as to the extent of the tests or by
whom made. Holmes (1910) says that "scientific observers have cap-
tured rattlers after their release by the priests and on examination the
fangs were found intact, the poison sacs well filled with venom.’’
Most important of all is Mindeleff’s report (1886 b) of the results
of Yarrow. Dr. H. C. Yarrow was a thoroughly competent herpetologist.
In 1883 he gained entrance to the Snake kiva prior to the dance and,
selecting a large rattler at random, examined its fangs and found them
See Appendix 1, p. 74.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
39
intact. After the dance two rattlesnakes were chosen and forwarded to
the National Museum, where they were examined by Dr. S. Weir Mitchell,
the great authority on venomous snakes. Fangs were found intact and
venom glands full. However, the latter test I do not consider as important
as Yarrow s direct observation, since two weeks and probably more must
have elapsed between the dance and the arrival of the snakes in Wash-
ington, and the venom would have been largely, if not entirely, restored
in that time.
At Mishongnovi I observed a rattler to make a half-hearted strike with
mouth open and the fangs were seen to be advanced, for the white sheaths
were clearly in evidence; this could not have been the case had the fangs
been removed or cut short. Later miy son saw one of the rattlers, which
the elder gatherer was holding close behind the neck, open its mouth, and
he, likewise observed the fang sheaths to be advanced, as if supported by
fangs. This was seen at a distance of about twelve feet. Neither of us
saw what was noted by the other ; the reports were independent.
The breaking off of the functional fangs as described by Curtis would
be of doubtful efficacy in any case, unless the Indians likewise remove the
reserve fangs, which involves a rather delicate operation. Wiley (1929)
has found that rattlesnakes normally shed their fangs every twenty days;
therefore if they were broken off at the time the snakes are caught, a
considerable proportion would be restored at the time of the dance.
I think the weight of the evidence tends rather strongly against the
Curtis theory. The Yarrow-Mitchell tests are probably the basis of the
extensive white tradition that complete scientific investigations of the
snakes have been made, for I have been able to locate no other reports
in the herpetological literature. It seems to me that the case for the non-
disturbance of the fangs is proven, but not the full venom glands.
We now discuss some of the miscellaneous theories listed on page 29
which have not already been covered.
Any idea of natural immunity of the Hopi may be discarded; reports
agree that they are at times (but not during the dance) serious sufferers
from rattlesnake bite. Fewkes (1894) cites a typical case of an Indian
with a badly swollen arm, the bite not being incident to the dance cere-
mony. There is no evidence that fasting or the ceremonial emetic would
be in any way effective.^®
The snakes certainly have not had their mouths sewed closed, (this
scheme is said to be resorted to by some of the fakirs of India) for, as
has been stated, at least two rattlers were seen to open their mouths at
Mishongnovi.
That some venom may be eliminated through the stomach has been shown
by test (Stejneger: Poisonous Snakes of North America, Kept. U. S. Nat. Mus., 1893,
p. 474). While this is so slight as not to be considered of importance in the mod-
ern treatment of snake bite, it may be the source of the supposed effectiveness of
the emetic. An Indian told Yarrow that the emetic disposed of the saliva swallowed
while carrying the snakes in the dance, which otherwise would cause them to swell
up and burst. This is an effect often reported as the punishment for any deviation
in the ritual and is not to be taken as reflecting the venomous effect of the snakes.
40
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Dieco
In view of the fact that snakes can live six months or more in captivity
without feeding, their being without food during their detention in the
kiva (involving a maximum of nine days) cannot be considered as having
an important bearing on their actions.
Blinding by sacred-meal or tobacco fumes, if possible, was certainly
not evident at Mishongnovi; the rattlers showed that they could see the
gatherer approaching. As to the blindness incident to skin changing, this
might occur in any month as well as August, for the snakes probably shed
their skins at least three times per year; but in any case all the snakes
would not shed simultaneously at the time of a dance.
While it cannot be said chat snakes are without power to bite those
who do not fear them (theory B 11) I repeat that fearless handling is
of importance; it discourages an offensive attitude on the part of the
snake, as one may readily demonstrate by experimenting with a vicious
gopher snake or racer. Dorsey (1903) gives the same theory in some-
what different form when he says that throughout the ceremony the snakes
are handled with such recklessness that their constant desire is not to
strike, but to flee. That the snakes are tame because the same ones are
caught each year cannot be considered a plausible theory. No doubt a
few are repeaters, but I cannot believe that a snake’s memory of the pre-
vious ceremony would remain vivid for two years.
There are some statements (Voth, 1903) to the effect that the Indians
suck the wound in case of rattler bite; thus we have a known valuable
remedy applied, as well as those, such as the mysterious antidote, of more
questionable nature.^^
The tickling by the snake-wand of the hugger cannot be regarded as
being particularly effective, although so considered by a number of ob-
servers; it is not used for the protection of those who handle the snakes
in the kiva, or during the final dash to the plain.
The theory that rattlers cannot strike unless coiled is not of importance
in the present instance. Although a rattler cannot strike well unless in
its fighting or defensive coil (and even then its aim is frequently bad),
when held by a portion of the body, as it is by the mouth of the carrier in
the dance, it can turn and bite with great accuracy whatever may be hold-
ing it. This is frequently demonstrated when handling snakes with a
forceps. Any snake could unerringly bite the face of the Indian holding
it, should it so desire. The relation of the strike and bite is misunderstood
by some commentators. Fewkes (1894, p. 105) asks whether a snake
can make an effective bite, with venom injection, when carried by the
neck or other part of the body, thus interferring with muscular action.
Those who have had much experience with rattlers know that they can bite
when no movement of the body is possible, provided the mouth can be
opened. The strike, which is a quick forward lunge from an S-shaped
coil, is beneficial in attaining speed and distance; it allows the securing of
The Pima Indians are reported as using both suction and ligature. Ann.
Rep. Bur. Am. Eth., 26: 264.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
41
prey which would otherwise escape, and it is effective in defense against
a larger enemy (Klauber 1927, p. 6). The bite is the culmination of
the strike, and the penetration of the forward-pointing fangs is aided by
the momentum of the lunge. But a bite can be secured with jaws alone,
and the snake has sufficient muscle in the jaws to imbed the fangs in any
yielding substance provided the mouth can be opened widely enough to
permit erecting them and catching the object to be bitten beneath the
points. And injection of venom will immediately follow by the operation
of the appropriate head muscles used in wringing the glands. All this is
proven in the process of venom removal for scientific purposes, wherein
the snakes are held so rigidly that they can only move their jaws. A good
venom discharge is then procured by pinching their tails to anger them
(Klauber, 1928), although pressure on the glands is also used to insure
evacuation.
And now to conclude with conjecture, rather than opinion based on
observation. If I were an Indian engaged in this dance I would not be
satisfied to take a chance on the admitted and known docility of the
rattlers, especially having in mind the danger to some of the boys of eight
years, or even less, who, as novitiate priests, take part in the ceremony.
Without taking any step which would injure the snakes (even temporarily,
as by the removal of the replacable fangs), I would use the simplest,
least apparent, and safest method of rendering the snakes almost innocu-
ous, that is, by thoroughly emptying the venom glands. This statement
is based on a personal experience in the milking of well over twenty-five
hundred rattlesnakes.
To my mind the removal of the venom, either at the time of catching
the snakes or later in the kiva, would be so easy and safe, and so much
more difficult to detect, that this is a more plausible explanation of how
the Indians handle the snakes so fearlessly and with so few adverse effects,
than the breaking off of the fangs themselves, as Curtis has suggested. If
the fangs are broken off a snake can still make a considerable wound, into
which some venom will find its way with painful, if not dangerous,
results. On the other hand, the more or less complete removal of the
venom by letting the snakes bite some soft object, or by manipulation of
the venom glands, or both, would render the snakes relatively harmless,
and this for several days at least. The greatly diminished venom then
available to the snakes used in the dance would account for an occasional
painful but not serious case, of just such a character as seems sometimes
to occur, judging from the reports of the observers quoted.
And so I conclude that, if any explanation of the Indians’ apparent
immunity from serious accidents be necessary, beyond the known docility
42 Venom removal would render the snake tamer than captivity alone; rattlers
seem less ready to strike when their venom glands are evacuated. Whether this is
a physiological effect of the empty glands or the result of the handling incident to
venom removal, I cannot say. Yarrow noted the same effect many years ago; see
Forest and Stream, Vol. 30, p. 327, May 17, 1888.
42
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
of snakes in captivity, it is to be found in the evacuation of the venom
glands before the ceremony. The final word on this will not be spoken
until some herpetologist has had an opportunity to examine carefully sev-
eral of the rattlesnakes used in the rite, sometime between the ceremonial
washing in the kiva at noon on the day of the dance, and the ultimate
dispersal of these messengers to the gods at the foot of the cliffs after the
ceremony.
ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHY
This bibliography makes no claim to completeness; it merely cites
the ethnological and some of the popular accounts of the dance to which
the writer’s attention has been directed. The many descriptions of the
dance which have appeared as incidental chapters in books on the south-
west are exemplified by some of the more typical and better known nar-
ratives. Newspaper stories, of which great numbers have appeared, are
represented by two recent items ; bibliographies of a few of the earlier
and probably more important newspaper stories will be found in Fewkes
(1894 and 1897).
The earliest published account of the dance seems to be that appear-
ing in the Presbyterian Messenger in 1881. This was followed shortly by
Bourke’s work, which was printed in Edinburgh and published simultane-
ously in New York and London. Captain Bourke took full advantage
of his opportunities, and his recital is unusually complete and accurate,
having in mind the fact that he had no prior detailed information per-
mitting him to plan a campaign of investigation. His work was widely
and favorably reviewed and stimulated at once a great interest in the
dance. He somewhat misinterpreted the meaning of the ritual, as he
considered it snake worship, but for this he cannot be unduly blamed, as
the Hopi do have an ophiological rite (Fewkes, 1900 b). The Bourke
book has now become quite difficult to obtain.
There followed shortly the intensive works of Fewkes, Voth and
Dorsey who, indeed, left a small held of accomplishment for their suc-
cessors. Aided by the conhdence of the Indians, a knowledge of the
language and adequate assistance, they chronicled every possible detail of
the ceremonies, each act of the ritual, however minor, and a translation
of each prayer and chant. Comparisons were made of the variations be-
I trust I may be pardoned for quoting the interesting inscription in my
copy. "This rare volume (whose author was for a time my captain and whose
one-time possessor — see foregoing autograph — was a comrade-in-arms to both of
us in Indian campaigns) to my good friend L. M. Klauber; who understands
snakes and has no prejudices against army officers.
Geo. H. Harries,
1926 Major General, U.S.A.”
(The autograph referred to is that of Stephen C. Mills, U.S.A.)
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
43
tween ^ towns. The most important of these contributions are the
following:
J. W. Fewkes
1894 The Snake Ceremonials at Walpi.
(In collaboration with A. M. Stephen and J. G. Owens) .
1897 Tusayan Snake Ceremonies.
(Shipaulovi, Shimopovi and Oraibi dances compared with
each other and Walpi).
1900 a Tusayan Flute and Snake Ceremonies.
(The Mishongnovi dance) .
G. A. Dorsey and H. R. Voth
1902 The Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and Antelope
Fraternities.
H. R. Voth
1903 The Oraibi Summer Snake Ceremony.
Subsequent publications have been less detailed, and usually of a more
popular nature. Mostly they have been personal impressions, without
much of fundamental novelty.
In the compilation of this bibliography I have been much aided by
institutions and individuals who have suggested leads resulting in the
locating of new references; others have made possible the securing for
examination of the works themselves. Acknowledgment is gratefully made
to the San Diego Scientific Library, San Diego Public Library, Los Angeles
Public Library, Los Angeles Museum, San Francisco Public Library, Stan-
ford University Library, University of California Library, Library of Con-
gress, New York Public Library, Library of Office of Indian Affairs,
Bureau of American Ethnology, California State Library, California Acad-
emy of Sciences, Malcolm Rogers, Phil Townsend Hanna, Alice Klauber,
Leda Klauber, Mrs. Ruth E. Creveling, and Mrs. Marge Edwards.
In the following lists the references have been divided into two groups ;
those relating primarily to the Hopi and their dance; and, secondly, those
dealing essentially with snakes. Coleman (1928), a transition item, is
included in both lists.
References to which access has not been had are appropriately noted.
44
Bulletin 9- Zoological Society of San Diego
PART A— THE INDIANS AND THEIR DANCE
Allen, W. F.
1885 Captain Bourke’s Narrative of the Moqui Indians. Dial, Vol.
5, No. 57, pp. 242-244.
Bourke’s work reviewed. “A book of remarkable interest
as well as value.”
Anon.
1884 Snake Dances, Moqui and Greek. Saturday Review, Vol. 58
No. 1512, pp. 501-502.
A review of "Captain Bourke’s most interesting and care-
fully accurate account of the Snake Dance of the Moquis ”
in which comparisons are drawn with certain rites of an-
cient Greece.
1885 a The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona. Literary World,
Vol. 16, No. 8, pp. 131-132.
A review of Bourke’s "Extremely well-written and interest-
ing monograph on the subject.”
1885 b The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona. Spectator, No.
2969, pp. 680-681.
A review of Bourke (1884). "He has been able to collect
a mass of information possessing a high anthropological and
ethnological value.”
1885 c Snake Dance of the Moquis. American Naturalist, Vol. 19,
pp. 104-105.
A review of Bourke’s book.
1915 Desert Wells. Washington, Office of Indian Affairs, pp. 1-8,
map.
A compilation of the results of attempts to secure addition-
al water supply for the Hopi and Navaho by well drilling.
Important as indicating the serious problem of water sup-
ply in Tusayan.
1927 Science Seeks Hopi Indians’ Secret Antidote for Snake Bite.
The American Weekly. Magazine Section of the Los Angeles
Examiner, Sunday, March 6, 1927, p. 2, figs.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
45
A typical example of the sensational type of newspaper
story.
Applegate, Frank J.
1929 Indian Stories from the Pueblos. Philadelphia. Pp. 1-178, 7
col. plates.
The Indian character and mentality cleverly revealed in
simple stories. "The Snake Priest’s Trousers,” "The Art-
ists and the Snakes,” and "Turtle Shells” touch on the
Snake dance.
Baxter, Rupert H.
1895 The Moqui Snake Dance. American Antiquarian, Vol. 17, No.
4, pp. 205-207.
A brief account (with some discrepancies as compared to
other recitals) of early dances at Cunopovi (Shimopovi)
and Cipaulovi (Shipaulovi) .
Beckwith, Marthe Warren
1907 Dance Forms of the Moqui and Kwakiutl Indians. Congres
International des Americanistes. 15 th Session, Quebec, 1906,
Vol. 2, pp. 79-114.
A paper showing how two groups of Indians "sufficiently
isolated to exhibit distinct cultural types, have developed
distinct dramatic forms along the lines of their social and
economic interests.”
Bolton, Herbert E.
1916 Spanish Exploration in the Southwest. New York. Pp. XII +
487.
Contains Espejo’s account of the Expedition of 1582-1583;
the first record of snake-rites amongst the southwestern
Indians (p. 183), these having been observed at Acoma.
Bourke, John G.
1884 The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona Being a Narrative
of a Journey from Santa Fe, New Mexico to the Village of the
Moqui Indians of Arizona, with a Description of the Manners
and Customs of this Peculiar People and Especially of the Re-
volting Religious Rite, the Snake Dance, to which is added a
Brief Dissertation upon Serpent Worship in General, with an
46
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
Account of the Tablet Dance of the Pueblo of Santo Domingo,
New Mexico, etc. New York. Pp. XVI + 371, plates 1-31.
The earliest complete account of the dance, by an army
captain who visited the Hopi in 1881, gaining access to
some of the secret as well as the public rites. This work was
important in bringing the ceremony to the attention of the
civilized world.
1895 The Snake Ceremonials at Walpi. American Anthropologist,
Vol. 8, No. 2, pp. 192-196.
Remarks on the history of the white audience of the dance.
On this date there were "in existence as many as 500 de-
scriptions of the ceremony, written by more or less com-
petent hands and with more or less exactness.”
Brown, L. F.
1899 The Moquis and Their Snake Dance. Truth (London), July,
1899.
Not seen.
Bushby, D. M.
1929 The Dance of the Snake. Overland Monthly and Outwest
Magazine, Vol. 87, No. 6, pp. 167-168.
A short account.
Carnac, Levin
1899 The Snake Dancers of Arizona. Pearson’s Magazine, Vol. 8,
pp. 380-384, 7 figs.
A brief account of the dance which is said to be based on
snake worship.
Coleman, George E.
1928 Rattlesnake Venom Antidote of the Hopi Indians. Bull. An-
tivenin Institute of America, Vol 1, No. 4, pp. 97-99.
The results of tests on guinea pigs with rattlesnake venom,
using the Hopi preparation as an antidote.
Coolidge, Mary Roberts
1929 The Rain-Makers. Indians of Arizona and New Mexico.
Boston and New York. Pp. XIII + 326.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
47
Contains a short and accurate account of the Walpi dance
(pp. 131-139).
Crane, Leo
1925 a Let Joy Be Unrefined. Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 136, No. 2,
pp. 188-199.
A spirited magazine account by one who witnessed the
ceremony many times.
1925 b The Indians of the Enchanted Mesa. Boston. Pp. X+364,
32 figs., map.
The writer was Indian Agent at Tusayan for eight years ;
he had therefore an unusually intimate contact with the
Indians. The Snake dance is covered in pp. 248-276.
Curtis, Edward S.
1922 The North American Indian. Vol. 12: The Hopi, pp. XI +
291.
Contains a detailed account of the Snake ceremony which
is notable for the divergent view concerning defanging the
snakes. The illustrations are exceptionally fine.
Darton, N. H.
1910 A Reconnaissance of Parts of Northwestern New Mexico and
Northern Arizona. U. S. Geol. Survey, Bull. 435, pp. 1-88,
plates 1-17, figs. 1-8.
Geology of Hopi region, pp. 54-55, plate 1.
Donaldson, Thos.
1893 Moqui Pueblo Indians of Arizona and Pueblo Indians of New
Mexico. Extra Census Bulletin, 11th Cerlsus of U. S., Wash-
ington, pp. 1-1 36, 59 plates, 4 maps.
The Snake dance pp. 40-41, 69-74; accounts by Peter Moran
and Julian Scott, artists and special agents, who saw the
Walpi dance in 1883 and 1891 respectively. Contains
much general information on the Hopi.
Dorsey, Geo. A.
1903 Indians of the Southwest. Pp. 1-223, ills., map. (Publication
of the Passenger Dept., Santa Fe Railway System) .
48
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
Chapter 13, Flute, Antelope and Snake Ceremonials. The
Snake dance is described on pp. 142-155, 12 figs, in an
accurate and complete, yet non-technical manner, probably
one of the best brief descriptions that have appeared.
Dorsey, Geo. A. and Voth, H. R .
1902 The Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and Antelope Fra-
ternities. Field Columbian Museum, Pub. No. 66, Anth. Ser.,
Vol. 3, No. 3, pp. 159-261, plates 75-147.
A complete description of every element of the ritual by
ethnologists. One of the most important technical pres-
entations of the subject.
Edwardy, Wm. M.
1889 Snake Dance of the Moqui Indians. Harper’s Weekly, Vol.
33, No. 1715, pp. 871-873, double page plate.
A moderately complete account, not especially accurate in
detail.
Fergusson, Erna
1931 Dancing Gods. Indian Ceremonials of New Mexico and Ari-
zona. New York. Pp. XXVI-f 276+X, 16 plates.
The Snake dance pp. 145-167. A recent work by an author-
ity on the southwestern ceremonials.
Fewkes, J. Walter
1889 A Study of Summer Ceremonials at Zuni and Moqui Pueblos.
Bull. Essex Inst., Vol. 22, Nos. 7-9, pp. 89-113.
A preliminary study of the Snake and related rituals.
1890 A Contribution to Passamaquoddy Folk-Lore. Journal of
American Folk-Lore, Vol. 3, No. 11, pp. 257-280.
Mention is made of a snake dance in this tribe (pp. 260-
261) which may originally have had a religious import-
ance similar to that of the Indians of the southwest.
1891 A Suggestion as to the Meaning of the Moqui Snake Dance.
Journal of American Folk-lore, Vol. 4, No. 13, pp. 129-138.
The conclusion is drawn from the similarity between the
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
49
Snake and Flute dances that the former is not an ophiolog-
ical rite; the snakes merely play a part in the ceremony.
1892 A Few Summer Ceremonials at .rhe Tusayan Pueblos. Journal
of American Ethnology and Archaeology, Vol. 2, No. 1 pp
1-160, 32 figs.
Descriptions of the more important ceremonials not in-
cluding the Snake dance which is reserved for a special
monograph (Fewkes, 1894). Relation of Snake and Flute
rituals.
1893 A Central American Ceremony which Suggests the Snake Dance
of the Tusayan Villages. American Anthropologist, Vol. 6,
No. 3, pp. 285-306, plates 1-4.
One of the many ceremonials having a similarity to the
Hopi dance is discussed. "The facts here recorded look as
if the Hopi practise a ceremonial system of worship with
strong affinities to the Nahuatl and Maya."
1894 See under Fewkes, J. Walter (assisted by Stephen, A. M., and
Owens, J. G.)
1895 a The Oraibi Flute Altar. Journal of American Folk Lore, Vol.
8, No. 31, pp. 265-284, plates 1-2.
The Walpi dance of 1895 (pp. 273-282) is compared with
the two previous biennial rites in the same town.
1895 b A Comparison of Sia and Tusayan Snake Ceremonials. Amer-
ican Anthropologist, Vol. 8, No. 2, pp. 118-141.
Comparisons of Hopi with non-Hopi ceremonials, with
remarks on the probable common origin of the rites.
1896 The Tusayan Ritual: A Study of the Influence of Environment
on Aboriginal Cults. Ann. Report of Smithsonian Institution
to July, 1895, pp. 683-700.
A summary of two Hopi rituals (one, the Snake dance)
showing how environment affects religion and ceremonials.
1897 Tusayan Snake Ceremonies. l6th Ann. Report, Bureau Amer-
ican Ethnology, pp. 267-311, plates 70-81.
Detailed accounts of the dances at Shipaulovi, Shongopavi
and Oraibi, their variations, and differences from that at
Walpi. An important technical article.
50
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
1898 Hopi Snake Washing. American Anthropologist, Vol. 11, pp.
313-318.
The washing ceremony at Mishongnovi compared with that
at Walpi.
1900 a Tusayan Flute and Snake Ceremonies. 19th Ann. Report,
Bureau American Ethnology, Part 2, pp. 957-1011, plates 45-
63, figs. 42-46.
A detailed account of the dance at Mishongnovi in 1897;
also the Walpi dance compared with the three previous rires
in the same town. The accurate and detailed observations of
a professional ethnologist.
1900 b A Theatrical Performance at Walpi. Proc. Washington Acad,
of Sci., Vol. 2, pp. 605-629.
Describes the Great Serpent Drama of the Hopi, a spring
festival which "has nothing to do with the celebrated Hopi
Snake dance, which contains dramatic elements of a differ-
ent nature.” This reference is mentioned to prevent con-
fusion.
1903 Hopi Katcinas Drawn by Native Artists. 21st Ann. Report,
Bureau of American Ethnology, pp. 3-126, plates (col.) 2-63.
Contains important material on the Hopi ceremonial cal-
endar.
1907 (Article on) Hopi (in) Handbook of American Indians North
of Mexico, F. W. Hodge, Editor. Bureau of American Eth-
nology, Bulletin 30, Vol. 1, pp. 560-568, 4 text figs.
A brief but authoritative synopsis of the Hopi Indians,
their history, clans, archaeology, characteristics and customs.
Fewkes, J. Walter, assisted by Stephen, A. M. and Owens, J. G.
1894 The Snake Ceremonials at Walpi. Journal of American Eth-
nology and Archaeology, Vol. 4, pp. VI + 126, 40 ills., map.
The first of the five most important technical treatises on the
subject and the only one on the Walpi dance, which has
more participants and is in some ways more dramatic than
the ceremony as practiced in the other villages. Important
early bibliography.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
Ford, J. A.
1926 Hopi Snake-Dance as a Magnet for 2500 Motorists. Literary
Digest, March 6, 1926, pp. 50-52.
Synopsis and quotations from a popular article in Motor
Life (Latter not seen).
Forrest, Earle R.
1923 The Snake Dance in the Painted Desert. Travel, Vol. 40, No.
3, pp. 16-20, 36, 14 text figs.
A brief account with illustrations.
1929 Missions and Pueblos of the Old Southwest. Their Myths,
Legends, Fiestas, and Ceremonies, with Some Account of the
Indian Tribes and their Dances; and of the Penitentes. Cleve-
land. Vol. 1, pp. 1-386, 32 plates; Vol. 2, pp. 1-209, 46
plates.
A good account of the public ceremony, with a number of
original illustrations. Describes the tribal schism which re-
sulted in the founding of Hotevila; the last dance at Orai-
bi (Chapter 17, The Land of the Snake Dance, pp. 277-
330). •
Frenzeny, P.
1882 Snake-Charmers of Central America. Harper’s Weekly Vol.
26, No. 13I8, pp. 183-184, full page plate.
A short article on a dance evidently related to the Moqui
dance. The name given above is that of the artist; the
author’s name is not given.
Garland, Hamlin
1896 Among the Moqui Indians. Harper’s Weekly, Vol. 40, No.
2069, pp. 801-807, 5 text figs.
A complete and accurate account, notable for its sympathetic
tone. Probably the best of the purely descriptive and
non-technical articles on the dance.
Hewett, Edgar L.
1930 Ancient Life in the American Southwest. Indianapolis. Pp. 1-
392.
A standard work on the Indians of the southwest. The
Snake dance pp. 334-340.
52
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
Hodge, Frederick W.
1896 Pueblo Snake Ceremonials. American Anthropologist, Vol. 9,
No. 4, pp. 133-136.
A discussion of the probable derivation and present extent
of non-Hopi Snake dances.
Holder, Chas. F.
1901 The Snake Dancers of Tusayan. New England Magazine, Vol.
25 (N.S.), No. 4, pp. 512-519, 5 text hgs.
A short account, somewhat exaggerated in details and
strained in verbiage.
Holmes, E. Burton
1910 Moki Land. Burton Holmes Travelogues, Vol. 6, pp. 227-336.
The Snake dance description (pp. 276-316) is accompanied
by an unusually fine series of photographs to the number
of 44.
Hough,Walter
1900 The Moki Snake Dance. A Popular Account of the Unparal-
leled Dramatic Pagan Ceremony of the Pueblo Indians of
Tusayan, Arizona, with Incidental Mention of their Life and
Customs. Passenger Dept., Santa Fe Route, Chicago. Pp. 1-
58, 64 text figs., map.
A brief account of the dance and the Hopi people by an
authority on the subject. A first edition (not seen) pub-
lished in 1898.
1910 (Article on) Snake Dance (in) Handbook of American In-
dians North of Mexico. F. W. Hodge, Editor. Bureau of
American Ethnology, Bulletin 30, Vol. 2, pp. 604-606, 3 text
figs.
A synopsis of the dance contained in an authoritative hand-
book.
1915 The Hopi Indians. Cedar Rapids, Iowa (Little Histories of
North American Indians, No. 4). Pp. 1-265.
A popular account of the Hopi tribe by the Curator of
Ethnology of the United States National Museum. The
Snake dance pp. 148-156.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
S3
1919 The Hopi Indian Collection in the United States National
Museum. Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., Vol. 54, pp. 234-296, plates
19-53, figs. 1-48.
The arts and industries of the Hopi Indians.
James, George Wharton
1899 a The Snake Dance of the Moquis. Scientific American. Part
1 in Vol. 80, No. 25, pp. 403 + 408-409, 8 figs; part 2 in Vol.
81, No. 11, pp. 161 + 167, 6 figs.
A complete account by one who saw the dance and pho-
tographed it on many occasions.
1899 b What I Saw at the Snake Dance. Wide World Magazine, Vol.
4, No. 21, pp. 264-274, 17 figs.
The author states that the Indians’ freedom from injury is
due to fearless, but gentle, handling of the snakes, which
have both fangs and venom intact.
1900 The Hopi Snake Dance. Outing, Vol. 36, No. 3, pp. 302-310,
13 text figs.
An excellent general account of the ceremony, including
the secret ceremonials, by one who had the opportunity to
see and photograph them. Moderate and accurate.
1903 The Indians of the Painted Desert Region. Hopis, Navahoes,
Wallapais, Havasupais. Boston. Pp. XXI + 268, 40 plates.
Chapter VII, The Hopi Snake Dance, pp. 102-123.
1915 Our American Wonderlands. Chicago. Pp. 1-297.
Contains a chapter (pp. 115-135) on the Hopi dance.
Keam, T. V.
1883 An Indian Snake Dance. Chambers Journal, Jan 6, 1883,
pp. 14-16.
A short but accurate description ; probably the second to be
published.
Keane, A. H.
1884 The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona. Academy, No.
655. pp. 336-337.
54
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
A review of Bourke’s work "which forms a valuable con-
tribution to the study of native American ethnology.”
Keller, N. C.
1905 Moqui Indian Snake Dance. Women’s Home Companion,
Vol. 32, pp. 18-19, March 1905.
Not seen.
Kidder, Alfred V.
1924 An Introduction to the Study of Southwestern Archaeology,
New Haven. Pp. VII +151, plates 1-50, figs. 1-25.
Southwestern archaeology, with an extensive bibliography.
Lawrence, D. H.
1924 The Hopi Snake Dance. Theatre Arts Monthly, Vol. 8, No.
12, pp. 836-860, 6 plates.
An impressionistic account by the well-known British novel-
ist. An attempt to elucidate the dance in terms of the
Indian’s religious philosophy.
1925 The Hopi Snake Dance. Living Age, Vol. 325, No. 4213.
The same account, extracted from The Adelphi, London,
Jan. and Feb., 1925. (Latter publication not seen).
1927 Mornings in Mexico. New York. Pp. 1-189.’
The Hopi Snake Dance, Chapter VII, pp. 139-179, is a
reprint of Lawrence (1924) above. (The London edition
IS pp. 1-178, with the Snake dance pp. 133-169).
Longembaugh, May M.
1916 The Snake Dance at Chimopovy. Overland Monthly, Vol. 68,
No. 4, pp. 280-288, 6 text figs.
An account with several novel statements.
Lummis, Chas. F.
1892 Some Strange Corners of Our Country. III. The Snake Dance
of the Moquis. St. Nicholas, Vol. 19, (April, 1892) pp. 421-
425, 5 figs.
A brief account for children.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
55
1906 Some Strange Corners of Our Country. The Wonderland of
the Southwest. New York. Pp. XI + 270, 49 figs.
Chapter 4, The Rattlesnake Dance, pp. 43-57, 3 figs. An
account containing several inaccuracies.
1924 Is the Snake Dance a Fake? Sunset Magazine, Vol. 52, p. 32.
A note denying that the rattlers used in the dance are
defanged.
1925 Mesa, Canyon and Pueblo. New York. Pp. XVI + 517, 49
figs.
A chapter on the dance (pp. 144-158) by an authority on
the southwest. However, the account differs in important
particulars from all other descriptions.
Macfarlane, Peter Clark
1913 Bull Moose and Rattlesnakes. Colliers, Vol. 52, No. 2, pp.
5-6, 28-30, 8 text figs.
A journalistic account of the Walpi dance of 1913, which
was enlivened by Theodore Roosevelt’s presence.
McKee, Barbara H.
1930 The Hopi Snake Dance. Grand Canyon Nature Notes, Vol.
4, No. 10, pp. 63-64.
A brief summary of the dance and legend.
McKee, Edwin D.
1929 Snakes as Mediators. Grand Canyon Nature Notes, Vol. 4,
No. 1, p. 5.
The Mishongnovi dance of 1929- As seen by the Park
Naturalist of Grand Canyon National Park.
Messinger, H. J.
See under Stephen, Alex. M.
Mindeleff, Cosmos (Mendelieff, Kosmos)
1886a An Indian Snake Dance. Science (Supplement), Vol. 7, No.
174, pp. 507-514.
56
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
A complete and, on the whole, accurate description, the first
on the Mishongnovi dance to appear.
1886 b An Indian Snake Dance. Science, Vol. 8, No. 178, pp. 12-13.
A reply to some comments made on his previous paper.
This is the first paper in which the treatment of snakes is
discussed and is the best on the subject which has yet ap-
peared. The experiments of Drs. H. C. Yarrow and S.
Weir Mitchell are mentioned.
Mofiet, T. C.
1914 The American Indians on the New Trail. Presbyterian Dept,
of Missionary Education, New York.
Not seen.
Monroe, Harriet
1905 To the Snake Dance. Fortnightly Review, Vol. 78, No. 466,
pp. 665-667.
An account, more interesting of the trip to the dance before
the days of the automobile, than of the dance itself.
Monsen, Frederick
1907 Festivals of the Hopi: Religion the Inspiration, and Dancing
an Expression in All their National Ceremonies. Craftsman,
Vol. 12, No. 3, pp. 269-285, 8 plates.
The significance of the dance in the Hopi religion.
Moran, Geo. Newell
1913 Kwahu, The Hopi Indian Boy. New York. Pp. 1-237, 12
plates, 67 figs.
The life of a Hopi Indian boy told in story form, from
birth to marriage.
Murphy, Matthew M.
1928 The Snake Dance People and their Country. Hopi Ceremon-
ies. Oakland. Pp. 1-14, 6 figs.
A brief account of the Hopi and their ceremonials by a
former U. S. Allotting Agent for the Hopi reservation.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
57
Newcomer, E. D. (as told to Douglas, E.)
1931 Debunking the Snake Dance. Los Angeles Times Sunday
Magazine, Aug. 9, 1931, pp. 7-8.
A recent newspaper account.
Oliver, Marion L.
1911 The Snake Dance. National Geographic Magazine, Vol. 22,
No. 2, pp. 107-137, 31 ills.
A brief account containing several good illustrations.
Owens, J. G.
See under Fewkes, J. W., assisted by Stephen and Owens.
Parsons, Elsie Clews
1925 A Pueblo Indian Journal, 1920-1921. Introduction and Notes
by Elsie Clews Parsons. Memoirs of the American Anthro-
pological Association, No. 32, pp. 1-123, hgs. 1-41.
A diary of Hopi life by Crow-wing of Sichumovi, tran-
scribed with notes by Mrs. Parsons. Snake dance entries
pp. 101-106.
Philips, Paul Orville
1903 The Moqui Indians and Their Snake Dance. Era, Vol. 11,
No. 2, pp. 115-129, 21 figs.
"The hair is disheveled to signify rain clouds, and as the
dance proceeds the deep guttural song of the priests repre-
sents the sighing of the winds and the murmer of falling
rain .... The rattlesnake is the best omen for rain, for his
forked tongue is the emblem of lightning, his rattling tail
of thunder, and his spotted sides of clouds.”
Powell, J. W.
1891 Introduction to 7th Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology
(for) 1885-1886, p. XXIX.
A note on Dr. H. C. Yarrow’s investigation of the Snake
dance.
Prudden, T. Mitchell
1907 On the Great American Plateau. New York. Pp. VIII +
237, 40 ills, map.
58
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
"To him who has come to know the participants in their
daily walks and realizes that the crude barbaric exhibition
is but the expression handed on through centuries, of sin-
cerely cherished and profoundly religious conceptions, . . .
the Snake Dance ceremonial has a more absorbing and abid-
ing fascination than its crude dramatic features can awak-
> >
en.
Rinehart, Mary Roberts
1923 The Out Trail. New York. Pp. 1-246.
A brief description of the dance (pp. 85-111) by a popular
authoress.
Roberts, Edward
1886 A Moqui Indian Fete. Overland Monthly, Vol. 8 (2nd Ser.)
No. 45, pp. 261-266.
"It was a sight to make one's blood run cold — -a disgusting,
revolting spectacle.”
Roosevelt, Theodore
1913 The Hopi Snake Dance. Outlook, Vol. 105, No. 7, pp. 365-
373, 3 text figs.
A straightforward narrative by one who saw the snake
washing as well as the dance itself.
1916 A Book-Lover’s Holiday in the Open. New York. Pp. XIV
+ 373, 3 ills.
Chapter III, The Hopi Snake Dance, pp. 63-97, is a reprint
(in part) of the previous item.
Rust, H. N.
1896 The Moqui Snake Dance. Land of Sunshine. Vol. 4, No. 2,
pp. 70-76, 6 text figs.
One of the early popular magazine articles.
Saunders, Chas. F.
1912 The Indians of the Terraced Houses. New York. Pp. XX +
293.
A brief account (pp. 203-219) by one familiar with the
southwest.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
59
Shaw, Clarence H.
1901 The Snake Dance of the Moqui Indians. Phoenix, 190I.
Not seen.
Sheldon, Chas, M.
1904 The Hopi Snake Dance. Independent, Vol. 57, No. 2918, pp.
102 6- 1031, 7 text figs.
A plea for the prohibition of the dance as a pagan rite.
Shufeldt, R. W.
1891 Snake Dance of the Mokis. Great Divide, Oct. 1891.
Not seen.
Stephen, Alex. M.
1888 Legend of the Snake Order of the Moquis as Told to Out-
siders. Journal of American Folk-Lore, Vol. 1, No. 2, pp.
109-114.
A variant of the legend differing greatly from subsequent
accounts. Possibly the same myth is not intended. Paper
published by W. Matthews.
(See also under Fewkes, J. W., assisted by Stephen and Owens,
1894).
Stephen, Alex. M., and Messinger, H. J.
1889 The Snake Dance — Barbaric Religious Festival of the Moqui
Indians — "The World’s” Expedition Witnesses the Ceremon-
ies— Indian Braves Dance with Writhing Rattlesnakes in Their
Teeth — Weird Invocations of the Gods of the Underworld —
Shocking Religious Rites in the Wilds of Arizona — The
Strange Legend Held Sacred by the Superstitious Moquis. New
York World, Sunday, Sept. 8, 1889, p. 9, 10 figs.
Notwithstanding the startling headlines above quoted, the
article is complete and accurate, and is a worthy contribu-
tion to newspaper enterprise of 40 years ago. It appar-
ently contains the only account by an eye-witness of the
catching of a rattlesnake on one of the ceremonial snake
hunts.
60
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
Stevenson, Matilda Cox
1892 Tusayan Legends of the Snake and Flute People. Proc. Amet.
Assn, for the Adv. of Science, 4lst Meeting, pp. 258-270.
A brief summary of the dance, followed by a complete
version of the myth upon which the ceremonial is based.
1894 The Sia. 11th Ann. Kept. Bureau American Ethnology, pp. 3-
157, plates 1-35, figs. 1-20.
Contains an account of a snake ceremonial in one of the
New Mexican pueblos.
Taylor, Chas. A.
1881 The Great Snake Dance of the Moquis. Rocky Mountain
Presbyterian, Vol. 10, No. 4, p. 276, 2 figs.
A brief account, said to be the first published on this dance.
Taylor, Frank J.
See under Tillotson, M. R.
Tillotson, M. R. and Taylor, Frank J.
1929 Grand Canyon Country. Stanford University. Pp. VIII +
108, 22 ills. map.
The Snake dance briefly described, pp. 44-46. Mention
is made (p. 18) of Jacob Hamblin, the Mormon explorer,
having reported as early as 1862 on Hopi ceremonials to
bring rain, by which he was probably referring to the
Snake dance.
Tinsley, H. G.
1920a The Mokis Dance to Propitiate the God of Rain. Dearborn
Independent, 20th year. No. 46, Sept. 11, 1920, p. 12.
A highly inaccurate account.
1920 b Dancing with Rattlesnakes to Incline the Gods to Send Rain.
Literary Digest, Vol. 57, No. 3 (Whole No. 1591, Oct. 16,
1920), pp. 58-61.
Abridged from the article in the Dearborn Independent-
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
61
Townshend, R. B.
1904 The Snake-Dancers of Mishongnovi. Nineteenth Century and
After, Vol. 55, No. 325, pp. 429-443.
A straightforward, well balanced story by a British traveler
who spent many years in this country.
1926 Last Memories of a Tenderfoot. New York. Pp. XI + 270.
A reprint of the article of 1904 at pp. 192-255.
Voth, H. R.
1903 The Oraibi Summer Snake Ceremony. Field Columbian
Museum, Pub. No. 83. Anth. Ser., Vol. 3, No. 4, pp. 263-358,
plates 148-219.
An exceedingly detailed account by a missionary-ethnologist
who had the confidence of the Indians, spoke their language
and witnessed nearly all the secret rites. One of the five
essential technical records.
1905 The Traditions of the Hopi. Field Columbian Museum. Pub.
No. 96, Anth. Ser., Vol. 8, pp. Ill + 3 19.
Hopi myths and legends as told to Voth and transcribed by
him. The Snake legend, pp. 30-35.
(See also under Dorsey, George A.)
Whiting, Lilian
1907 The Land of Enchantment. Boston. Pp. XII + 347, 35 ills.
A brief account of the dance, pp. 258-261.
Wissler, Clark
1922 The American Indian, An Introduction to the Anthropology
of the New World. Second Edition. New York. Pp. XXI +
474, figs. 1-81.
A summary of anthropological research in the New World ;
extensive bibliography.
62
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Dieco
PART B— HERPETOLOGICAL REFERENCES.
Amaral, Afranio do
1927 Notes on Nearctic Poisonous Snakes and Treatment of Their
Bites. Bull. Antivenin Institute of America, Vol. 1, No. 3,
pp. 61-76, figs. 1-30.
Summary of the snake-bite situation.
Coleman, George E.
1928 Rattlesnake Venom Antidote of the Elopi Indians. Bull. Anti-
venin Institute of America, Vol. 1, No. 4, pp. 97-99.
The results of tests on guinea pigs with rattlesnake venom,
using the Hopi preparation as an antidote.
George, I. D.
See under Githens, Thos. S.
Githens, Thos. S. and George, I. D.
1931 Comparative Studies of the Venoms of Certain Rattlesnakes.
Bull. Antivenin Instimte of America, Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 31-34.
Determination of the minimum lethal dose, for pigeons, of
the venom of different species of rattlesnakes.
Hutchison, R. H.
1929 On the Incidence of Snake-Bite Poisoning in the United States
and the Results of the Newer Methods of Treatment. Bull.
Antivenin Institute of America, Vol. 3, No. 2, pp. 43-57.
A summary and analysis of snake-bite reports for year 1928.
1930 Further Notes on the Incidence of Snake-Bite Poisoning in the
United States. Bull. Antivenin Institute of America, Vol. 4,
No. 2, pp. 40-43.
Snake-bite statistics of 1929.
Klauber, L. M.
1927 Some Observations on the Rattlesnakes of the Extreme South-
west. Bull. Antivenin Institute of America, Vol. 1, No. 1,
pp. 7-21, figs. 1-9.
t Remarks on rattlesnake habits.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
63
1928 The Collection of Rattlesnake Venom. Bull. Antivenin Insti-
tute of America, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 11-18, figs. 1-9.
Methods of handling snakes and of extracting venom.
1930 a New and Renamed Subspecies of Crotalus confluentus Say, with
Remarks on Related Species. Trans. San Diego Society of Nat.
Hist. Vol. 6, No. 3, pp. 95-144, plates 9-12, map.
Discussion of the relationships of the Prairie Rattlesnake
(the subspecies used in the dance) ; range map.
1930 b Differential Characteristics of Southwestern Rattlesnakes Allied
to Crotalus atrox. Bull. Zool. Soc. San Diego, No. 6, pp. 1-58,
plates 1-6, maps 1-3.
The character and range of the Western Diamond Rattle-
snake.
Ortenburger, Arthur I.
1928 The Whip Snakes and Racers: Genera MasUcophis and Colu-
ber. Mem. Univ. Michigan Museums, Vol. 1, pp. XVIII T
247, plates 1-36, figs. 1-64.
Treats, amongst others, the Great Basin Racer, which is
employed in the Snake dance.
Van Denburgh, John
1922 The Reptiles of Western North America. Occas. Papers Calif.
Acad. Sci., No. 10, Vol. 1, Lizards; Vol. 2, Snakes and Turtles,
pp. 1-1028, plates 1-128.
The standard treatise on western reptiles.
1924 Notes on the Herpetology of New Mexico, with a list of Spe-
cies Known from that State. Proc. Cal. Acad. Sci., 4th Ser.,
Vol. 13, No. 12, pp. 189-230.
The reptiles known from the area to the east of the Navaho-
Hopi area.
Wiley, Grace Olive
1929 Notes on the Texas Rattlesnake in Captivity with Special Ref-
erence to the Birth of a Litter of Young. Bull. Antivenin In-
stitute of America, Vol. 3, No. 3, pp. 8-14, figs. 2-6.
The handling and taming of rattlers in captivity.
64 Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
1930 Notes on the Neotropical Rattlesnake {Crotalus (erri ficus basii-
tscus) in Captivity. Bull. Antivenin Institute of America, Vol.
3, pp. 100-103, fig. 1.
Data on handling rattlesnakes in captivity.
Willson, P.
19O8 Snake Poisoning in the United States: A Study Based on an
Analysis of 740 Cases. Archives Institute of Medicine, Vol. 1,
pp. 516-570.
Important in showing fatality ratios before the advent of
modern systems of treatment.
Woodbury, Angus M.
1931 A Descriptive Catalog of the Reptiles of Utah. Bull. Uni-
versity of Utah, Vol. 21, No. 5, pp. X+129, figs. 1-58.
Descriptions of the snakes found to the north of Tusayan.
MAP REFERENCES
1878 10th Ann. Report, U. S. Geol. and Geogr. Survey of the Territories,
Plate 73 (large map of 3 mesas of Tusayan).
1886 (Reprint, 1921) U. S. Geological Survey, Topographic Maps of
the U. S.: Arizona, Tusayan Sheet.
1923 Topographic Map of the State of Arizona. Prepared by N. H.
Darton, Geologist U. S. Geological Survey, in cooperation with
the Arizona Bureau of Mines.
Map of Principal Automobile Roads within the Navajo and Hopi
Indian Reservations, including the Grand Canyon and Southern
Utah Regions. Automobile Club of Southern California.
Interesting maps will also be found in Donaldson (1893), Fewkes
(1894), Anon. (1915), and Crane (1925 b).
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
65
APPENDIX 1
ANTHOLOGY OF THE HOPI SNAKE DANCE
Selections from authoritative descriptions of various features of the ritual.
The Significance of the ceremony
The Snake Dance is an elaborate prayer for rain, in which the reptiles
are gathered from the fields, intrusted with the prayers of the people,
and then given their liberty to bear these petitions to the divinities who
can bring the blessing of copious rains to the parched and arid farmiS of
the Hopi.
J. W. Fewkes (assisted by A. M. Stephen and J. G. Owens),
1894, The Snake Ceremonials at Walpi, p. 124.
When one makes the Tusayan ritual a special study he finds it wonder-
fully complicated in the development of details. No Hopi priest lives
who understands the meaning of all these details, nor does he care for
an explanation of them. There are two fundamental factors, however,
which he can comprehend, and these are always on his lips when an
explanation of the ritual is solicited. "We cling to the rites of our
ancestors because they have been pronounced good by those who know.
We erect our altars, sing our traditional songs, and celebrate our sacred
dances for rain that our corn may germinate and yield abundant harvest.”
J. W. Fewkes, 1896, The Tusayan Ritual, pp. 698-9.
Calendar of Events
The following tabular summary or calenda'r of events is abridged from
Fewkes’ description of the Walpi ceremony (Fewkes, 1894, pp. 10-11)
the technical terms being omitted. The numbers indicate the serial days
of the ceremiOny;
1 a Making of charm liquid by the Antelopes.
b Preparation of sand mosaic in Antelope kiva.
2 a Making of prayer sticks in Antelope kiva.
b Consecration of same by singing of 16 traditional songs by
Antelopes in their kiva.
3 a Ceremonial delivery of prayer sticks by chief Antelope to chief
Snake priest in Antelope kiva.
b Snake hunt to north,
c Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs.
4 a Ceremonial delivery of prayer sticks to chief Snake priest,
b Snake hunt to the west.
c Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs.
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Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
5 a Ceremonial delivery of prayer sticks,
b Snake hunt to the south.
c Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs.
d Ceremonial notification sign hung on Antelope kiva entrance
ladder.
6 a Ceremonial delivery of prayer sticks,
b Snake hunt to the east.
c Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs.
7 a Making of sand mosaic in Snake kiva.
b Making of charm liquid and medicine pellets,
c Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs,
d Initiation of novices in Snake kiva with dramatic rites,
e Singing at the sun spring.
8 a Antelope race (public) .
b Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs with dramatization of
Snake myth.
c Renewal of charm liquid,
d Antelope or Corn dance (public) .
9 a Antelope ceremony of 16 traditional songs with dramatization of
Snake myth.
b Ceremonial of novices in Antelope kiva.
c Snake race (public),
d Washing of snakes in Snake kiva.
e Snake dance (public),
f Purification by emetic,
g Feast.
10 a Ceremonial of purification of Snake priests.
Then follow four days of games and celebration.
It should be understood that this calendar by no means exhausts the
items of the ritual; it lists only the outstanding events. There are many
other observances of a minor, but essential, character, and when not other-
wise engaged the priests are busy with the manufacture of prayer sticks
and religious paraphernalia, repairs to their costumes, ceremonial smokes,
etc.
The calendar is not the same in the several villages. For example,
the first ceremonial snake-hunt at Mishongnovi occurs on the second day;
the Antelope sand mosaic is made on the fifth day; there are eight cere-
monial songs which are first sung on the sixth day, and on this day the
drama of the myth is held, to be repeated on the seventh and eighth days.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
67
But the complexity of the ritual and the general character of the arrange-
ment are similar in all the Hopi towns.
It will be observed that the so-called nine-day ceremony really runs
over to the tenth day. Also the official announcement of the dance, involv-
ing some ceremony, takes place eight days before the first official day of
the rite and in the intervening time certain ceremonial preparations and
meetings are held.
Selecting the Date
August 2. This is the first morning the Snake chief watches the sun.
The chief says the sun is going so fast it is coming close to the place, he
wants to call out right soon. The people are saying that it is too early;
but the Snake chief says that he wants to call out as soon as the sun gets
to the place. So he has to watch very closely. He wants to do what is
right. He wants to do his best.
August 3. The people are trying to have the Snake chief watch the
sun very closely and so to call out at the right time. Sometimes, if the
Snake chief does not watch the sun right, they dance early, then it freezes
early too. That is the reason why they must try and watch the sun very
closely. Also they have to watch the crops. If the crops are not growing
fast, they can wait for four or eight days before calling out.
August 4. The Snake chief and the Antelope chief (Honawox, of the
Snake clan) are both watching the sun, and they say that the sun is now
getting to the place, and they will soon call out. They say, too, that the
crops are getting along very well, so they think they will have their smoke
in three days, at night. So the Snake dance will be soon.
Elsie Clews Parsons, 1925, A Pueblo Indian.
Journal, pp. 101-102.
The Announcement
(Made eight days in advance of the nine day ceremony)
"All people awake, open your eyes, arise.
Become Talahoya (child of light) , vigorous, active, sprightly.
Hasten clouds from the four world quarters;
Come snow in plenty, that water may be abundant when summer comes.
Come ice and cover the fields, that after planting they may yield abun-
dantly ;
Let all hearts be glad;
The knowing ones will assemble in four dap ;
They will encircle the village dancing and singing their lays * * *
That moismre may come in abundance."
J. W. Fewkes, 1896, The Tusayan Ritual,
p. 699.
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Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
The Snake Hunt
The Search
Arriving at the top of the mesa the snake hunt began in earnest.
The sight was an exceedingly pleasing one, as the three men began
an eager search here and there, one going in one direction, another
in another, coming, going, now all together, now widely separated, but
always moving at a rapid rate, beating the sage brush with their digging
sticks and never ceasing in their earnest search for a moment. All three
of the men were entirely naked except for a scant loin cloth and moccasins,
'ihe hair was permitted to hang freely from the head. One man was
followed on this hunt until late m the atternoon, when, owing to the exces-
sive heat and the failure to provide food and water, the author was obliged
to abandon the hunt and return to the village. During that time, however,
it was not learned that any of the men had been successful in their search
for snakes, and they were evidently becoming very restive under the belief
that their lack of success was due to the presence of a stranger. At one
time early in the search a hole was discovered which it was thought might
conceal a snake, whereupon the priest Choshnimtiwa, dropping upon his
knees, began digging, first with his hands and then with the digging stick,
at a furious rate. The excavation was continued to the depth of about
three feet, when, the hole growing larger, he was able by thrusting his arm
into the hole up to his elbow to reach the end of the hole. This being
found empty was abandoned. It is worthy of note in this connection that
the arm was repeatedly thrust into the hole, there being absolutely no fesar
shown as to any possible evil consequences.
G. A. Dorsey and H. R. Voth, 1902, The
Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and
Antelope Fraternities, pp. 182-3.
Finding a Rattler
Presently they (Snake priests) broke into groups of two and
three and began cautiously to peer and poke among rocks and
bushes for the snake mother’s children. In a short time a low call came
from a man who was thrusting his stick into a dense clump of greasewood,
and as the hunters gathered there it was found to be a large rattlesnake
lying in the heart of the thicket. Without hesitation they at once proceeded
to cut away the bushes with their hoes, and strangely enough, although the
snake lay in coil and watched them, it made no rattling or other display
of anger. One of the twigs fell upon it, and the man nearest stooped
down and deliberately lifted the branch away.
Each one then sprinkled a pinch of meal upon the snake, and the man
who had found it bent over and tapped it lightly with the feathers of his
snake-whip. It swayed its head a little and then straightened out to make
off, but just as it relaxed from coil, the hunter, using the right hand, in
which he held his snake-whip, instantly sei2ed it a few inches back of the
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
69
head. Holding it out, he gave it quick shake, and then proceeded to fold
it up, and put it in one of the small bags carried for this purpose, showing
no more concern in its handling than if it had been a ribbon.
A. M. Stephen and H. J. Messinger, The
Snake Dance, New York World, Sept. 8,
1889, p. 9.
The Dramatization of the Myth
Meanwhile, each fraternity constructs an altar in its own kiva, the
Antelope priests using symbols of rainclouds, lightning, and maize in altar
sand paintings. On the sixth day the rite of the Snake Youth and the
Antelope Maid is begun. Very early in the morning a Snake priest brings
a young man to the kiva and one of the Antelope priests brings a maiden
— a relative of some member — ^both of whom are attired in beautiful cos-
tumes to impersonate their parts in the ancient drama. Standing at the
rear of the altar, there is placed in the hand of the Maid an earthenware
vessel which contains stalks of growing corn and vines of melons; in one
hand of the Youth is a tiponi, the insignia of the Society, and in the other
a rattlesnake. The priests smoke, blowing toward the altar, over which a
specially prepared liquid is sprinkled. Many prayers are uttered and
chants of great antiquity are sung. When the seventh song is reached, the
priest lights an ancient cloud-blower filled with native tobacco, and, as the
priests sing their invocations to the yellow clouds of the north, to the green
clouds of the west, to the red clouds of the south, and to the white clouds
of the east, he forces billows of smoke from the pipe upon each of them
and invokes one after the other.
Mary Roberts Coolidge, 1929, The Rain
Makers, pp. 133-134.
The Snake Washing
Precisely at noon the chief priest sends one of his men to announce
that all in the village must retire into their houses, as the washing of the
snakes is about to begin. I am told formerly this injunction was very
promptly and scrupulously heeded, but of late this seems to be less so.
The men in the kiva are very solemn. When all is ready, the older men
squat down on the north side of the sand field, two or three of the younger
men on the south side east of the ladder, two west of and close to the
ladder opposite the two bowls or broken jars. The large bag with the
snakes is brought forward and placed in about the center of the kiva, and
one of the men takes a place near by between the sack and the bowl with
the yucca suds. All except the two men near the bowls hold in their right
hand snake whips. Their attire consists of the snake kilt and moccasins
only.
When all is ready, the man near the sack puts his right hand into the
70
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
sack, draws forth a snake, and hands it to the man opposite the bowl con-
taining the suds. He dips it into the bowl, and holding it in one hand,
draws it through the other and then hands it to his companion, who re-
peats the operation with the reptile in the other bowl, and then places it
on the sand field ; another snake follows, and then another, etc. The men
have in the meantime lit pipes and are solemnly smoking, handing the
pipes from one to the other, exchanging terms of relationship. The
snakes, of course, try to escape, but are herded, and sometimes pushed
back with the whips. The smoke, drawn from the pipes, is constantly
blown towards the snakes. But in spite of all these measures the snakes
make desperate efforts to escape, not only the racers that glide and shoot
swiftly up and down, but also the bull and rattle snakes. They crawl
over and between the nude legs of the men, up their arms, etc., so that
it often becomes necessary to take them with the hand and lay them back.
As the number of reptiles increase it becomes more difficult to control
them and keep them on the small place assigned to them, and for a time
the men are kept very busy. The snakes, finding all their efforts to escape
frustrated, finally huddle together in the two corners. It is simply
appalling with what apparent unconcern those men handle the reptiles.
One has followed the other until all have gone through the two baths
and been placed on the sand field. When the snakes see that they cannot
escape they finally pile up in the corner on the floor and on the banquette,
enjoying the sunshine that falls on those places through the hatchway just
at that time. Occasionally one tries to escape, especially the racers, but
usually one or two boys, who are left in charge, can manage them.
When the washing is completed, the three men who handled the snakes
carefully wash their hands and then the chief priest and one or two others
usually utter a brief prayer, whereupon all seat themselves around the
fireplace and smoke, exchanging terms of relationship. The snakes are
left in charge of one or two of the small boys.
H. R. Voth, 1903, The Oraibi Summer
Snake Ceremony, pp. 339-342.
The older priests assembled in a circle around the hearth, where they
engaged in fraternal smoking, the care of keeping the snakes confined to
the sand field being left to three or four of the smallest boys. This they
did for two hours with unfailing pleasure and delight. These boys, bare-
footed and otherwise entirely naked, sat down on the stones and with their
whips or naked hands played with the snakes, permitting them to crawl
over and under their feet, between their legs, handling them, using them
as playthings, paying no more attention to the rattlesnakes than to the
smallest harmless whip-snake, forming a sight never to be forgotten. It
must be admitted, however, that owing to the absolute abandon and reck-
lessness used by the boys in handling these snakes, all of one’s precon-
ceived notions of the dangerousness of the rattlesnake entirely disap-
peared. Occasionally, one of the snakes, being tossed to a distance of four
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
71
or five feet, would apparently resent the insult, but before the snake had
had sufficient time to coil it would be straightened out by one of the other
boys or tossed back to its original position, and so the sport (for it was
nothing less to these boys) continued, as has been stated, for more than
two hours.
G. A, Dorsey and H. R. Voth, 1902, The
Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and
Antelope Fraternities, pp. 247-248.
The Dance
The Entrance of the Priests
Suddenly into the plaza, with rude, intense movements, hurries a little
file of men. They are smeared all with grey and black, and are naked
save for little kilts embroidered like the Sacred dance-kilts in other pueb-
los, red and green and black on a white fiber-cloth. The fox skins hang
behind. The feet of the dancers are pure ash-grey. Their hair is long.
There are only eight men — the so-called Antelope priests. They pace
round in a circle, rudely, absorbedly, till the first heavy, intense old man
with his massive grey hair flowing, comes to the lid on the ground, near
the tuft of kiva-boughs. He rapidly shakes from the hollow of his right
hand a little white meal on the lid, stamps heavily, with naked right foot,
on the meal, so the wood resounds, and paces heavily forward. Each man
to the boy, shakes meal, stamps, paces absorbedly on in the circle, comes
to the lid again, shakes meal, stamps, paces absorbedly on, comes a third
time to the lid, or trap door, and this time spits on the lid, stamps, and
goes on. And this time the eight men file away behind the lid, between
it and the mft of green boughs. And there they stand in a line, their
backs to the kiva-tuft of green; silent, absorbed, bowing a little to the
ground.
Suddenly paces with rude haste another file of men. They are naked,
and smeared with red "medicine,” with big black lozenges of smeared
paint on their backs .... These are the so-called snake priests, men
of the Snake clan. . . .
They pace rapidly round, with that heavy wild silence of concentration
characteristic of them, and cast meal and stamp upon the lid, cast meal
and stamp in the second round, come round and spit and stamp in the
third.
D. H. Lawrence, 1927, Mornings in
Mexico, pp. 155-8.
The Chants
Then they (the Snake priests) formed in line before the kisi, face to
face with the line of Antelope men, and with ordered waving of the
72
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
snake whips, and shaking of the knee-rattles, and stamping of the feet
they chanted in unison a weird, unearthly song. Its words, of course,
were unintelligible to us ; and it may be that they were not entirely under-
stood by themselves, for while the language of savages changes by degrees
from century to century, and its archaic forms, passing out of common
use, swiftly begin to be forgotten, a few still linger on in the songs devoted
to the gods, and are piously chanted by priests, who can no longer interpret
what they mean.
R. B. Townshend, 1904, The Snake
Dancers of Mishongnovi, p. 436.
The Snake Carry mg
The Snake men then thrust their snake whips behind their belts and,
while they again hummed a song, at the same time stepping forward and
backward, the Antelope men rattling, some of the Snake men began to
detach themselves in threes from the line, going to the kisi where a snake
was handed to one of them by a Snake priest who did not participate in
the ceremony, but was called from among the spectators on the house
tops for this purpose.
The dancer having been handed a snake, placed it between his lips and
moved slowly forward being accompanied by another priest who had
placed his arm around the dancer’s neck occupying, as it were, with his
snake whip, the attention of the snake, warding off the latter’s head from
the dancer’s face as much as possible. As soon as these two had described
the circuit in front of the kisi the snake was dropped and picked up by the
third man. The two again approached the kisi, received another reptile
and went through the same performance. The gatherers held sometimes
as many as four, five and even more snakes in their hands, and it has been
observed that on several occasions a dancer would take more than one
reptile at a time between his lips.
As soon as a snake is dropped the gatherer concerns himself with it,
either picking it up at once or first letting it glide away a short distance.
If the reptile be a rattlesnake and threatens to coil, the man touches it
with the points of his snake whip, moving the latter rapidly. A rattle-
snake, already coiled up and ready to fight, even the most experienced
priest will not touch until he has induced it to uncoil. A pinch of meal
is always thrown on the snake before it is picked up. It is astonishing,
however, with what complete unconcern the dancers will move about
among the snakes that are being constantly dropped, even if they are
coiled up and apparently ready to strike at the foot or leg of the man who
passes in close proximity to them. None seem to be more reckless in
handling the snakes than the smaller boys .
When all the snakes have been "handled,” the chief priest goes to one
side and sprinkles a circle of meal on the ground and in it a meal line
from the north, west, south, east, northeast and southwest towards the
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
73
center. The Snake men are standing at one side of the circle, a line of
women and girls standing on the other side holding trays with cornmeal
in their hands. This meal they throw on the meal circle, whereupon the
Snake men rush to the circle, throw all the reptiles on it and immediately
thrust their hands into the wriggling, writhing mass of snakes, grabbing
with both hands as many as they can get hold of ; then they dash away
with them to the four cardinal points, some going to the north, some to
the west, and so on, where they release them at certain points, preferably
behind rocks, called snake house, depositing with them the long black
bahos, which they held in their hands with some cornmeal during the
dance. After the Snake men had left, the Antelope priests again made
the four circuits on the plaza in the same manner as when they came
and then returned to the kiva.
G. A. Dorsey and H. R. Voth, 1902, The
Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and
Antelope Fraternities, pp. 251-2.
The Snake Myth
(It is impossible, within the scope of this paper, to give a
version of the legend which follows the hero through all his
strange adventures. For an extended account see espe-
cially Voth, 1903, pp. 349-353; Voth, 1905, pp. 30-35;
and Stevenson, 1892, pp. 261-265.)
The legend relates that a youth, having the curiosity to know where
the waters flowed, embarked in a hollow log, closed except a small orifice
and went down the Great Colorado to its mouth. . . . Flere he found
the Spider Woman, who prompted him in his dealings with the people
living there. After many strange adventures, during which he was taught the
rites now practiced by the Snake Society, he won the daughter of a Snake
chief and brought her to his country. The first fruits of this union were
snakes, who bit the Hopi and who were driven away on this account.
Later children were human, and with them originated the Snake clan,
whose wanderings brought them at last to Walpi; and tradition affirms
that they were among the first arrivals there.
Walter Hough, 1915, The Hopi Indians,
pp. 155-6.
The Antidote
(It is obviously impossible to cite extracts giving all of the
various theories which have been put forward to explain
how the snakes are handled without accident. I therefore
give three: Dorsey, representing the usual matter-of-fact
theory; Curtis, who differs from almost all other commenta-
tors; and Voth, who reports the ideas of the Indians
themselves.)
74
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
The Usual Theory
Naturally, there is one topic above all others: How is it that these
priests, some of whom are mere infants, are not bitten and do not die
from wounds of the rattlesnakes? This much may be said with confi-
dence: There is absolutely no attempt on the part of the Hopi to extricate
the fangs or in any other way whatsoever to render the snakes harmless.
In the second place, so far as is known, the Hopi have no antidote for
poison. They neither rub their bodies nor take an antidote with them
before going upon the hunt, while the drinking of the emetic and the
vomiting immediately after the dance is a purification rite, pure and simple.
Yet no Hopi Snake priest has ever been known to suffer from the bite of
a rattlesnake. There seems to be but one answer to the question, and that
is, that the Hopi Snake priests understand the ways of the rattlesnake, and
are careful never to pick him up or to handle him when he has assumed
a striking attitude. When a snake falls from the mouth of a carrier and
coils, the whip is waved over it, whereupon it is picked up. It is also
quite possible to believe that from the very moment the rattlesnake is ruth-
lessly seized in the field until he is released at the conclusion of the cere-
mony, he is handled with such recklessness that his constant desire is not
to strike, but to flee. Again, it must be admitted that as soon as the snakes
enter the kiva they are kept in tightly closed jars, hence by the end of the
ceremony are probably in a dazed condition. But the rattlesnake, during
the greater part of his captivity, is treated with the utmost unconcern.
Geo. A. Dorsey, 1903, Indians of the
Southwest, pp. 154-5.
The Curtis Theory of Defanging
The extremely dramatic performance of the last day, in which the
priests dance publicly with rattlesnakes in their hands, about their necks,
and even between their lips, has generally been accepted as a remarkable
and inexplicable exhibition, the triumph of primitive philosophy, or craft,
or courage, or what-not, over one of Namre’s most venomous reptiles.
But the most remarkable aspect is that so little skepticism seems to have
been aroused. The Snake priests do handle rattlesnakes. But the rattle-
snakes have first been rendered absolutely harmless by the removal of their
fangs before a hand is laid on them. For the truth of this statement we
have only one man’s word; but as that man is a Snake priest of many
years’ standing, there need be no hesitation in accepting it. The roots of
broken fangs in a snake drop off in the course of a few days, so that a
majority of the rattlesnakes are probably quite fangless at the time of the
dance. However, the rattlesnake possesses a considerable number of rudi-
mentary fangs, one pair of which pushes forward to supply the deficiency,
and not long after their release the snakes used in the dance are as well
armed as ever.
Edward S. Curtis, 1922, The North Amer-
ican Indian, Vol. 12, The Hopi, p. 136.
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
75
The Charm Effect
^ deep-rooted conviction among the members of
the Snake and Antelope Fraternities that they are immune from the effects
0 snake poison and from the snake charm while they are engaged in the
ceremony. One of the Snake priests, now an old man, was once struck
by a rattler while he ran with handfuls of snakes from the plaza at the
conclusion of the ceremony. He says he held the snake about midway of
the body, and it swung back its head and struck him in the hand. A
young man was bitten on the plaza a few years ago, which, however, I did
not find out until lately. A third man told me that he was once bitten —
1 think he said while trying to take a snake from the pot in the booth.
It has already been stated on a previous page that formerly the snakes were
kept in a covered pot instead of a sack on the plaza. In none of these
cases was any special treatment resorted to, because, I was told, that was
not considered necessary in the case of members of the Fraternity during
the time of the ceremony. Of course such immunity is claimed only for
those whose hearts are good”; where this essential quality does not exist
the bite of a venomous reptile may prove just as dangerous, and even
fatal, as in the case of any other mortal,
H. R. Voth, 1903, The Oraibi Summer
Snake Ceremony, p. 357.
APPENDIX 2
THE AMPHIBIANS AND REPTILES OBSERVED
AND COLLECTED ENROUTE
The entire trip to the dance occupied a few hours over a week, the
start being made at noon, August 15 th, with return to San Diego on the
evening of the 22nd.
The itinerary and daily mileage were as follows:
Aug. 15 San Diego to Needles, via San Bernardino, Victorville and
Barstow 366 miles
Aug. 16 Needles to Williams, via Oatman, Kingman and Selig-
man 202 miles
Aug. 17 Williams to Grand Canyon (El Tovar and Hermit’s Rest) ;
remrn to Flagstaff 170 miles
Aug. 18 Flagstaff, Winslow, Holbrook, Petrified Forest (National
Monument), Holbrook, Painted Desert Inn, Holbrook
191 miles
76
Bulletin 9; Zoological Society of San Diego
Aug. 19 Holbrook to Mishongnovi, via Indian Wells and Kearns Can-
yon and return 188 miles
Aug. 20 Holbrook to Prescott, via Flagstaff and Ashfork, with side
trip to Meteor Crater 217 miles
Aug. 21 Prescott to Phoenix via Wickenburg 117 miles
Aug. 22 Phoenix to San Diego via Yuma 384 miles
Total mileage for the trip 1,385
This allowed some time for sight seeing and collecting en route. With
no prearranged schedule as to stops, except to reach Mishongnovi on the
19th, we were able to investigate any likely looking hunting grounds,
when time and weather permitted. As is usual in northern Arizona in
mid-summer, sporadic rainstorms were encountered in the afternoons.
The customary uncertainties of collecting were noted. Some of the
most favorable appearing localities yielded few specimens, while others
proved unexpectedly prolific; unfortunately many had to be traversed at
a time of day when no specimens could be expected. We had planned
our trip, both for collecting reasons and personal comfort, to cross the
Mohave Desert outbound, and the Colorado Desert on the return, in the
evening and night hours. But whereas I am sure we could have secured
a number of specimens of desert night-snakes had the trip been made in
May, none were found. The heat was oppressive even at midnight, and,
from the lack of dead specimens on the road, it would seem that the
snakes must practically aestivate in mid-summer. At any rate, just as the
peak of the collecting season for diurnal specimens in San Diego County
is May, so also on the desert, the same month will probably yield the
greatest number of nocmrnal specimens.
Similarly lizard collecting, which is always best at mid-morning (ex-
cept for a few species) was disappointing in the desert area northeast
of Topock, where on another trip in late May a number of species had
been seen in almost unexampled profusion.
On the northern Arizona plateau conditions were better. In the Win-
slow-Flagstaff area, where reptile activities are no doubt limited to the
summer and early autumn months, we probably saw the country at its
best. Further east, in the somewhat lower Winslow-Holbrook section,
lizard hunting was good in the mornings, although the heat was somewhat
oppressive.
Everywhere it was noted that lizard hunting in the afternoons was
relatively nonproductive, although a few were taken on the desert at Sen-
tinel, and in the early afternoon near Yarnell. In consequence, in the
afternoons we passed over much interesting territory, where not a specimen
was noted. The experienced collector will schedule his field work for the
mornings (the more desert the country, the earlier the field work) reserv-
ing the afternoons and evenings for traveling.
In the following list of species noted, all localities are in Arizona
unless otherwise stated.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
77
Amphibians
Scaphio pus hammondii (Western Spadefoot Toad)
Specimens were collected five miles east of Canyon Padre, Coconino
Co., and at Kirkland Creek (intersection with U. S. 89), Yavapai Co. At
the latter point juveniles were collected about a small pool, all stages from
tadpoles up being noted (Aug. 21).
Bujo cognatus (Great Plains Toad)
A single specimen was collected in a moist spot on the desert near
Topock, Mohave Co., at noon. This was a juvenile. Two others were
lost in a shallow prospect hole.
Kmid pipiens (Leopard Frog)
This specimen was found very common along the banks of an irrigat-
ing ditch near St. Joseph, Navajo Co. It was, however, very difficult to
secure even with a net, the water being opaque with silt. Our progress
along the banks was always preceded by a series of "plops” about 20 feet
in advance.
The leopard frog was also seen at a road-side pool 5 miles north of
Yarnell, Yavapai Co.
Lizards
Dipsosaurus dorsalis dorsalis (Northern Crested Lizard)
This common desert species was collected at Needles, San Bernardino
Co., California; and at Topock, Mohave Co., and Sentinel, Maricopa Co.,
Arizona. At the latter point it proved unexpectedly common at about
4P. M.
Crotaphytus collaris (Collared Lizard)
This lizard was always observed in rocky areas. It was collected or
seen at Oatman, west edge of Sacramento Valley (on U. S. 66), and
Hualpai, Mohave Co.; Kearns Canyon, Navajo Co.; and 4 miles south of
Kirkland Junction and Yarnell, Yavapai Co.
Crotaphytus wislizenii (Leopard Lizard)
Specimens were noted run over on the road at Hodge, San Bernardino
Co., and Midway Well, Imperial Co., California.
Sauromalus obesus (Chuckwalla)
The Chuckwalla was seen at Oatman, Goldroad, Kingman and Hack-
berry, Mohave Co. It was much less plentiful than on a previous occa-
sion in May. The Arizona specimens are amorphously banded with red
across the back, where the California specim.ens are usually grayish white.
Some one told me that these lizards could be caused to back out of
their rock refuges by repeated tappings on the nose (if it could be
reached) ; this was tried and found effective.
78
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
Callisaurus ventralis ventralis (Desert Gridiron-tailed Lizard)
Seen at Topock, Mohave Co., and Sentinel, Maricopa Co. At the for-
mer locality one of these lizards was observed chasing 'X Uta stanshuriana
stejnegeri. Both pursuer and pursued moved with great rapidity, doubling
and twisting like a dog and rabbit. The outcome was not seen, as they
disappeared behind a bush.
Holbrookia maculata approxima7is (Western Earless Lizard)
Canyon Padre (at U. S. 66), 4 miles east of Canyon Padre, Two Guns,
Canyon Diablo (at U. S. 66), 1 mile south of Meteor Crater Junction,
Coconino Co.; 10 and 25 miles north of Holbrook, Navajo Co.; and
Kirkland Creek (U. S. 89), Yavapai Co., were points of collection.
This lizard is undoubtedly the most common found on the rocky plains
area between Winona and Winslow. Twenty-four were collected in a
half hour east of Canyon Padre. They run through the short grass with a
zig-zag course for a short distance and then stop suddenly like Callisaurus,
but are much easier to follow with the eye. They do not seem to take to
ground holes readily.
Holbrookia texana (Band-tailed Earless Lizard)
This larger earless lizard was found plentiful in the boulder-chaparral
area south of Yarnell, Yavapai Co.
Uta ornata symmetrica (Arizona Rock Uta)
This lizard, although called by Van Denburgh the Arizona Tree Uta,
was found to frequent rocks. Specimens were observed at Dennison, Two
Guns and Meteor Crater, Coconino Co. In this area they perch on the
small stones scattered over the plain. At Yarnell, Yavapai Co., wheie
there are large granite boulders, they run about over the rocks and take
refuge in the crevices ; they were quite common here. Although similar in
form to Uta graciosa of the desert (a shrub-branch species) they seem to
have quite different habits.
Uta stansburiana stejnegeri (Desert Brown-shouldered Lizard)
This common desert form was seen only at Topock and Kingman,
Mohave Co.
Sceloporus consobrinus (Striped Swift)
This was the common lizard of the Williams-Flagstaff area. Where
rocks and logs are present it seems to prefer the latter. It was particularly
common on the sandstone outcrops in the vicinity of Winona, and on
the granite boulders at Yarnell, but is also found in the plains area. It
was collected at the following localities: 12 mi. south of El Tovar, Wi-
nona, Canyon Padre and 5 mi. east of Canyon Padre, Coconino Co.; 10
mi. north of Holbrook, Navajo Co.; and at the summit south of Prescott,
Glenoaks and Yarnell, Yavapai Co.
Phrynosoma douglassii hernandesi (Arizona Short-horned Horned Toad).
A specimen was found dead in the road eleven miles west of Williams.
Klauber: Hopi Snake Dance
79
Xantusia arizonae (Arizona Night Lizard)
Six specimens of this new species, the first of the genus to be discov-
ered in Arizona, were found under granite slabs on the granite-chaparral
hillside one mile south of Yarnell, Yavapai Co. The Arizona species,
while having the habits and, to a certain extent, the bodily form of
X, henshawi, seems more closely related to X. vigilis, which it resembles in
lepidosis and color. Naturally the finding of this novel form constituted
the outstanding feature of the trip, as far as collecting was concerned.
The discovery was not entirely accidental ; the likeness of the terrain about
the type locality, and particularly the spalled granite boulders, to the hab-
itat of X. henshawi in southern California caused us to engage in a search
for Xantusia, using the appliances and technique developed in pursuit of
X. henshawi in San Diego County.
Cneniidophorus sexlineatus perplexus (Sonoran Whiptail Lizard)
This moderate sized whiptail is the common form of the elevated areas
of north-central Arizona. It was collected 5 mi, east of Canyon Padre, at
Two Guns, 1 mi. south of Meteor Crater Junction, and Canyon Diablo,
Coconino Co.; 3 and 10 mi. north of Holbrook, Navajo Co.; and Yarnell
..nd Kirkland Creek, Yavapai Co, At the last point, juveniles, evidently
recently hatched, were especially common.
Cnemidophoms tessellatus tessellatus (Desert Whiptail Lizard)
The desert whiptail is widespread in the lowland areas of Arizona.
Specimens were noted at Topock, 10 mi. northeast of Topock, Oatman and
Goldroad, Mohave Co,; and Sentinel, Maricopa Co. A specimen from
the last point is much lighter at the throat than those from Mojave Co.
Snakes
Aiasticophis taeniatus taeniatus (Great Basin Striped Racer)
A specimen was taken at Yarnell. It was found stretched on a rock
pile with head 10 inches above the ground.
Pituophis catenijer rutilus (Arizona Bull [or Gopher J Snake)
This form and Crotalus conjluentus conjluentus evidently share the dis-
tinction of being the commonest snakes in central Arizona. Specimens of
the gopher snake were noted at the following points:
Locality Size Association
Nelson, Yavapai Co Medium Grass and juniper
4 mi. east of Seligman Large .Grassy plain
Crookton, Yavapai Co Medium Grassy plain
ElTovar, Grand Canyon Medium Rocks, brush
Williams, Coconino Co Medium Grass, trees
Canyon Padre Large Plain, scattered rocks
Two Guns Medium Rocky plain
3 mi. west of Dennison .Medium Rocky plain
44 Described in Trans. San Diego Soc. Nat. Hist., 1931, Vol. 7, No. 1,
pp. l-l6.
80
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
All of these were auto casualties, found on the road, except the Grand
Canyon specimen, which was found alive in a bush on the Canyon edge.
They seem less distinctive in coloration, with less red than specimens from
southwestern Arizona.
Lanipropeltis getulus boylii (Boyle’s King Snake)
In San Diego County, Calif., specimens were noted dead on the road
at Lake Hodges (fields) and Bonsall (brush). There was also a dead
specimen of medium size at Palo Verde, Maricopa Co., Arizona; here
were cultivated fields on both sides of the road. This individual had nar-
row, clear white rings.
A specimen was seen in captivity near Hot Springs Junction, Maricopa
Co., which was said to have been taken there. The light rings were nar-
row, but it appeared nearer boylii than yumensis.
Hypsiglena ochrorhynchus (Spotted Night Snake)
Dead specimens were noted on the road at Dennison, Coconino Co.,
and three miles west of this point. This was on a rocky plain.
Thamnophis ovdmoides vagrans (Wandering Garter Snake)
A small specimen was found dead on the road four miles west of
Williams, Coconino Co., in a forest association.
Thamnophis eques (White-bellied Garter Snake)
Three specimens of this form were found at Kirkland Creek (intersec-
tion with U. S.89) near a small pool. Two were crawling in the grass at
mid-day, the third was under a rock. One had eaten no less than thirteen
small Scaphiopus hammondii, some with and some without tails. Two of
these snakes died from the heat before we reached Phoenix that evening.
Crotalus rnolossus (Black-tailed Rattlesnake)
A specimen was seen dead in the road at Ashfork, but this locality
must not be considered definite, as the snake had a string around its neck,
showing that it might have been carried some distance. I had previously
received the species from Welch, about ten miles to the east, and from
Drake, Yavapai Co., eighteen miles to the south. A museum specimen
from Sedona, Coconino Co., was seen at Flagstaff.
Crotalus atrox (Desert Diamond Rattlesnake)
At the Reptile Inn, west of Mohawk, Yuma Co., we saw a brood of
six of this species born the night before (Aug. 20th). We were told the
young are generally born late in August. In this area atrox is usually
found along the Gila River bottom. One was reported taken several feet
up in a mesquite tree. O. D. Herron, who operates the service station
here, had a number of fine rattlers of this species in captivity. Ke han-
dled them all readily, but with care and delicacy. It was noted that a large
specimen, which seemed to pay no attention to Mr. Herron s handling, was
definitely afraid of a stranger.
The Herron collection, all caught in this vicinity, showed extensive
color variations in grays and browns, some appearing quite as gray and
dark as the average Texas specimen.
Klauber; Hopi Snake Dance
81
Crolalus scutulatus (Mohave Rattlesnake)
We found a juvenile of this species squirming on the road (having
just been run over) at Todd, San Bernardino Co., Calif., at 7:40 P. M.,
this being the only snake seen dead or alive on the Mohave Desert.
In a museum at Flagstaff there was a stuffed specimen taken at Sedona,
Coconino Co.
A roadside casualty was found at Congress Junction (desert asso-
ciation) .
At Phoenix, in the exhibition of C. L. Evans, we saw a brood of six of
this species, which had just been born (August 21st). Four were dark
and two light. One was horn dead and was kindly presented to the writer.
O. D. Herron at the Reptile Inn, who readily distinguishes this species
(he had none in captivity at the time), stated that they were found with
C. atrox in the Gila wash. I have a number of preserved specimens from
that locality.
Crotalus confluentus confluentus (Prairie Rattlesnake)
This subspecies is without doubt the most common snake between
Winona and Adamana and probably further east as well. West of Winona
It is much less common, and may, indeed, be absent at Flagstaff, althougn
It certainly occurs north of the San Francisco Peaks and at Valle and Anita,
Coconino Co.
I was much interested in seeing a number of specimens from the
neighborhood of Winslow and Holbrook, in order to get all possible data
on the relationship of the stunted, red snakes found in that vicinity, with
the larger green specimens found both to the east and west.^^ Notwith-
standing a large series of specimens available, I am still undecided as to
the status of this stunted form.
The specimens seen were as follows:
Locality Character Association Remarks
6 mi.E. of Flagstaff Olive-brown, medium. Forest DOR^®
7 mi. W. of Two Guns Red-brown, stunted Rocky plain DOR
6 mi. W. of Two Guns.. Red-brown, stunted ... . Rocky plain DOR
5 mi. E. of Canyon Padre Gray-brown, stunted.... Rocky plain Caught
Two Guns Gray-brown, stunted.... Rocky plain In captivity
4 mi. N.W. of Meteor Crater.. Red^brown, stunted Rocky plain DOR
Meteor Crater Dark brown, stunted... Rocks Purchased
Dennison.. Olive-green, large Sandstone, grass. DOR
6 mi. W. of Winslow Dark olive, miedium.... Grass DOR
3 mi. N. of Holbrook Brown, stunted Grass DOR
6 mi. N. of Holbrook Red, stunted Grass Caught
22 mi. N. of Holbrook Red, stunted Grass, rocks Caught
Trans. San Diego Soc. Nar. Hist., 1930, Vol. 6, No. 3, p. 126.
Dead on the road.
82
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
The last three points are in Navajo Co., the others in Coconino Co.
We were told, both at Flagstaff and Two Guns, that the small stunted
specimens were known locally as sidewinders. A considerable variety of
rattlers are given this popular name in California and Ari2ona, in localities
where the true sidewinder, C. cerastes, does not occur.
Crotalus confluentus oreganus (Pacific Rattlesnake)
A specimen was noted run over on the road at San Marcos, San Diego
Co., California (fields, orchard).
A second, large specimen found dead at Crookton, Yavapai Co., was
of special interest, as it was found out on a grassy plain, without nearby
mountains or rock outcrops. This seems to prove that it is the heat, rather
than the lack of rocks and brush, which restricts this form to the moun-
tains of southern Arizona, giving way to other species in the lowlands just
as it is replaced by C. scutulatus in the Antelope Valley and Mohave Desert
in California.
In the Dean Eldredge Museum at Flagstaff two freshly collected skins
of this species were seen; one was from Oak Creek Lodge and the other
from Long Valley (northeast of Pine), both points being in Coconino Co.
These skins were of the usual dark, Arizona type.
Crotalus confluentus mitchellii (Bleached Rattlesnake)
I was told both at Wickenburg and Mohawk, from which points I
had previously received specimens, that this species is found only in rocky
hills and not on the desert flats. Eight miles southeast of Wickenburg
a specimen was seen in captivity ; it was said to have been collected at that
point and was of the reddish color characteristic of this snake in this area.
Crotalus cerastes (Sidewinder)
This species is common around Mohawk, Yuma Co., where specimens
were seen in captivity. They are usually caught by following up their
tracks early in the morning.
84
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
PLATE 1
Photographs by Dr. J. Van Denburgh and J. R. Slevin.
Published through courtesy of the California Academy of Sciences.
Figs. 1-2. Arizona Bull (or Gopher) Snake
Pituophis catenifer rutilus
The largest of the non-venomous snakes used by the Hopi in the
Snake dance.
Figs. 3-4. Great Basin Striped Racer
Masticophis taematus taeniatus
Another species of non-venomous snake commonly used.
HOP[ SNAKE DANCE
PLATE 1
86
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
PLATE 2
Photographs by L. C. Kobler and L. M. Klauber
Fig. 1. Prairie Rattlesnake
Crotalus confluentus conjluentus
The "large green” phase characteristic of northern Arizona.
This form of rattlesnake predominates in the ceremony.
Fig. 2. Prairie Rattlesnake
Crotalus conjluentus conjluentus
The larger specimen is from Kansas; the smaller is one of the "smnted
red” phase characteristic of the Winslow-Holbrook area in Arizona.
Both are adults. The small red snake occasionally appears
in the dance.
HOPI SNAKE DANCE
PLATE
88
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
PLATE 3
Photograph by L. C. Kobler and L. M. Klauber
Prairie Rattlesnake
Crotahis confhientns confluentus
The intermediate or "olive-green” phase characteristic of the
Winona area in Arizona.
HOPI SNAKE DANCE
PLATE ^
J
90
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Diego
PLATE 4
Photographs by Dr. P. M. Jones. Published through courtesy of the
Museum of Anthropology, University of California.
Fig. 1. The Oraibi Dance, 1902
A carrier is seen in the center foreground. The snake, while held in the
teeth, is steadied with the hand, a characteristic of the West Mesa
dance. The Antelope priests are on the right, lined up
before the kisi, or cottonwood bower. The white
objects which they hold are buckskin rattles.
Fig. 2. The Oraibi Dance, 1902
The kisi, and the Antelope priests. The central figure is a
gatherer holding snakes.
HOPI SNAKE DANCE
PLATE 4
92
Bulletin 9: Zoological Society of San Dieco
PLATE 5
Map of Tusayan
HOPI SNAKE DANCE
PLATE 5
2
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