I found this caterpillar quietly noshing bindweed (hooray!). I would suspect the Convulvulus Hawkmoth which we do have in the garden, from its size and what it is eating. But my Collins guide says they should be purplish brown or apple green , while this one is black with a cream stripe. (We live in SW France)
You are quite right in your suspicions - it is convolvulus hawk moth, Agrius convolvuli.
The pattern on the front of the 'head' is distinctive.
The Collins guide simplifies the state of affairs with larvae of this species.
In fact there are lots of colour schemes; scroll down this page to get a better idea of the variation
Bit envious of some of those pictures on the German website. A couple of summers ago we were entertained at dusk as this huge (for us in Europe) moth dined on the nectar of Nicotiana Sylvestris - the only insect with a proboscis long enough for the trumpet shaped flowers. But sadly could not get a good enough photo.
They are wonderful creatures, indeed!
Earlier in the year, one was a regular visitor to Stephanotis flowers on my terrace (here in Cyprus).
Silver Y moths, also, will have a go at Nicotiana flowers, but I have no idea if they are successful in reaching the nectar.
Sometimes the best images defy photographic capture.
I am reminded of a particular visit to Sequoia Kings Canyon National Park in S. California many years ago. It had been a clear sunny day, and I had been busy photographing the majestic scenery and the flowers, accompanied by the meadows' denizens going about their buzziness. But now the sun had set and dusk was gathering rapidly, stealing along the canyon. The depths were becoming inky, but the white mountains towering above reflected a magical violet glow. I pondered briefly, camera in hand. I sighed. I put my camera away, sat on a rock, and gazed. I could not open my eyes wide enough to take it all in. It had only just begun but now it was fading. There was no way a camera was going to do it justice, and the idea of attempting a photograph seemed sacrilegious. The memory of that fleeting beauty haunts me.