Colour tattoo of a grinning cartoon beaver with a red nose on a calf, set against green grass, trees and an orange sunset.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon beaver on a calf

Calf · Colour · Photo

A brown cartoon beaver with large eyes, buck teeth, a red nose and a bushy tail stands on green grass. Behind it are pale tree trunks with green conifers and a sky of orange and red with white cloud shapes. The outlines are bold and clean, with soft colour shading in the grass and sky, and the design fills the curve of the leg.

Calf Cartoon Tree Grass Sunset Cloud

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mortimer Gorse had been trying to finish his dam since the first frost, and every morning the river unpicked it. He was not a patient beaver. His nose went red when he was cross, and his front teeth, by the general verdict of the willows, were too big for his face. Even so, the sun was going down over the pines of Lower Pinching in a shade the wool shop had called Tangerine Dream, and Mortimer had decided that one more birch log wedged under the bank would be enough.

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He hauled the log with his dinner-plate feet and shoved it into the mud. It rolled. It rolled again, and then Mortimer rolled with it, off the bank and into the shallows with a splash that sent a moorhen fleeing towards the reeds. When he surfaced he had a pine needle on his nose and a very clear view of Dorothy the heron, standing on one leg on the far stone, looking as though she had been waiting all week for this.

"You're building it to keep the river out," she said. "Why would you want the river out? It's the only thing round here that goes anywhere." Mortimer opened his mouth to argue and found nothing in it but water. So he sat on the bank, shook the drips off his tail, and looked at the small pool he had already made behind the lopsided heap of sticks. The sky lay in it, orange and red, with the conifers standing upside down like a row of worried old men.

Dorothy flapped off towards the weir. Mortimer pushed the birch log back into place with one paw and left it there, unfinished, the sunset floating under his nose. Tomorrow the river could have its say. Tonight he had a sky to hold, and it would not stay long, which was rather the point of it.