Wherever streams come down out of mountains, wherever the willows grow, but particularly in the western parts of North America, the Cerise Sphinx wings its way in the dusk of evening or early morning to the flowers of the evening primrose and other flowers with deep throats. It uncurls its long, long tongue, longer by far than that of a bee or wasp or even a butterfly, and finds precious nectar in the heart of the deepest flower. Sometimes it visits gardens in a city, and then you may see it shoot around the corner of the building, fast as a hummingbird, hover above a flower with buzzing wings and dip down with its tongue for the delightful sweets.

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