Small colour tattoo of a blue owl with orange eyes perched on a thin branch, on the ankle above a white shoe.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Blue owl tattoo on the ankle

Ankle · Colour · Photo

A small cartoon owl sits on a thin curved branch, with a blue body, darker blue feathered wings and a patterned chest, and large round orange eyes. The bold outlines and solid colour fills give it a simple, friendly look. The tattoo sits on the lower leg just above the ankle, with a gold chain and a white shoe visible below, against a dark leather seat.

Ankle Owl Bird Branch

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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

Sit closer, the fire's only just caught, and you'll want this told properly before the road takes you again. Eighty miles past the last pump, where the tarmac goes soft and grey as old dishwater, there was a lorry driver called Dessie Marr who had run dry of water and luck in the same afternoon.

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He saw her first on a dead mesquite by the verge. Blue as a gas flame she was, with a patterned chest like a quilt somebody had stitched in a hurry, and two round orange eyes that looked at him the way a schoolmistress looks at a boy who has come in late. Owls out there don't hoot, mind. They just watch. When Dessie climbed down, grumbling, she lifted off the branch and settled on the next fence post, and waited.

So he followed her. Post to post she went, never more than a stone's throw ahead, and every time he slowed she stopped and turned her head to make sure he was still coming. Past the salt flats. At the fork where the road splits like a wishbone, she sat on the signpost and did not move, though the wind pushed grit into her feathers until they stood out like a ruffled collar.

He took the left, the one with no sign at all, because she had not gone that way. Three hours later he came round a bend and found a cattle trough brimming with clean water, and a roadhouse with its door propped open. On the sill lay one blue feather, as long as his hand. Some folk say it was the owl's. Some say it was only the wind's joke. I say take the left, and bring a cup.