Fine line black tattoo of a branch wrapping around the forearm, with a small perched bird, a sitting fox and leaves along the stem.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bird, fox and branch on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A thin black branch runs around the forearm, with a small bird perched on it near the top and a leaf and feather on the stem in other views. A detailed sitting fox is drawn below the branch, shaded with fine hatching. The tattoo is black and grey, shown in three close-up photographs of the same arm against plain backgrounds.

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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

The fox came up the service road at ten past six, the same hour the lorries began to queue behind the barrier, and sat down on the gravel as if it had a pass. You had the stamp in your hand and the first driver of the day leaning out of his cab with a cough, and you told yourself it was a dog that had slipped its lead from one of the farms on the far side. Foxes did not sit like that. They sat like magistrates.

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Your supervisor, Mair, had a rule about animals at the post: leave them be and they will leave you be. So you did. For nine days the fox kept its appointment. It watched the vans. It watched you. Once it watched a small grey bird land on the fence wire above the booth, hop along to the barrier arm and fold its wings, and the two of them seemed to reach some arrangement without a word.

On the tenth morning a woman came through on foot, carrying nothing but a canvas bag and a folded map of a coastline she had clearly already walked. Her papers were in order. Her hands were not quite steady. You were about to wave her on when the bird flew down and settled on the strap of her bag, and the fox rose from the gravel.

You stamped the page and kept the ink even. Some crossings are only paperwork, and some are a branch bent low so a small thing can hop across. You lifted the barrier yourself and watched the fox trot back toward the hedge, the bird riding the wind above it until the two of them were only a line against the hedgerow.

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