Black and grey tattoo of a bird in flight above a tree on a person's upper back, with a thin red ribbon curling around the trunk and branches.

Bird and tree on upper back

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A bird with outstretched wings hovers above a bare, sweeping tree whose trunk runs down the lower half of the image. The linework is soft and the shading is smooth, with feathered edges on the branches and wings and dark, layered tones giving depth. A thin red ribbon-like line loops around the tree and the bird, providing the only colour against the black and grey ink.

Back Bird Tree Branches Ribbon Wing

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Idris, the plum tree gave up its last leaves on Tuesday, all in one wet night, so that by morning the whole ridge stood bare and the sky looked scrubbed. I went out with the lamp and found the red wool still knotted where you tied it the summer you left, faded now to the colour of a robin's breast in the rain.

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The bird that has circled the orchard since August came down onto the top branch at dusk, wings spread as if it meant to hold the sky up on its shoulders. Dai from the lower farm swears it is the same one that took the bread off the sill in July. I told him birds do not remember bread. He said neither do brothers, then laughed, because he knew I'd have thrown the fork at him if he'd been standing closer.

So I have made a decision, and you may argue with it from wherever the trains have carried you. I have untied the wool from the trunk, all three loops of it, and tied one end to the bird's leg with Mam's good thread while Dai held the branch steady. It did not struggle. It looked at me the way Mam used to look at a bad sum, then lifted off so slowly that the red trailed behind it like a question nobody had asked yet.

If it comes back by the first frost, the wool comes back with it, and you will know the road is open. If it does not come back, then at least you will have something bright to look at in the grey towns. Come home, or send word. The plum tree is waiting, and so am I. Your sister, Mair.