Who's The Fairest of Them All?

It let me get close enough to watch the most extraordinary thing: it was stretching and retracting its proboscis--not feeding, just moving. Something I read suggested it might be cleaning itself, but it looked like play to me. Oh the things we attribute to other creatures! But if I were an orange skipper on a bright green leaf in the late afternoon sun, I would shoot out my long tongue for the pure joy of it, curl it up again just because I could, and then let it fly once more, tasting the change in the seasons.