If white visitors to the communal dances of any of the tribes, but let us say particularly to the snake dances of Hopi-land, would only recognize that this whole performance is an incantation or invocation to the gods, giving thanks for the harvests of the year, and would refrain from laughter and other unseemly expressions that are sacrilege to the Indian, they would greatly help toward the mutual good-will and understanding of the two races. From the plumed serpent to the adoration of the bird is an easy transition for the Indian mind. Do we not read in the wisdom of Solomon: “There be three things which are too wonderful for me; and the chief of these were the way of an eagle in the air, the way of a serpent on a rock”? And in truth what is more enviable than a bird, that, spurning the earth, may overtop the clouds, pouring out his melody as he soars; or, like the eagle, proud, swift, and sudden, may swoop to clutch his prey and be aloft again in the flash of a moment.[213] The Keres to which the Ácomas belong regard Sky Father—synonymous with Sun Father—and Earth Mother as the great deities. Haeberlein tells us the common Southwest concept is that the Earth Mother while lying down is impregnated either by a sunbeam or a drop of water. In either case rain must effect the union and the fertilization. He calls the specific psychologic characteristic of Pueblo culture the “idea of fertilization,” because all their ceremonies are focused upon the production of fertility for the fields. He further maintains that this psychologic aspect cannot be disposed of as an independent element, nor as a mere accessory, but that “it is at every point in time, and space, inherently associated with the historical side”;[214] that is, it has entered materially into every new idea or form of worship that developed in their midst.