Colour tattoo of a cartoon bird-like creature with wide eyes and an open orange beak, above a furry orange figure, on the inside of a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon bird-like creature on a forearm

Forearm · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a cartoon bird-like head with wide, yellow-ringed eyes and an open orange beak, with a furry orange body standing below it and a long thin tail. The linework is dark and bold, with soft shading and blended orange, red and yellow fills across the fur. The design fills most of the forearm against a plain light background, with a blue denim sleeve partly visible at the left edge.

Forearm Creature Bird Cartoon Beak Fur Tail

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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 wind had the tent flaps snapping like a cheap audience when Mr Pring dropped the bird into the mud behind the dodgems. I got to it first, which was my job that season, being the only one of us small enough to crawl under the trailer hitch. Its beak had come unhooked from the wire and hung open at an angle that made it look as if it was about to tell us something rude. Its eyes, wide yellow rings painted on felt, were full of mud and still managed to look astonished.

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Pring was sixty-one and had worked marionettes and glove puppets on the coast since the summer of 1974, and he did not believe in glue for anything that had to face a crowd. He sent me to the van for fishing line and the tin of tan wax his mother used on boots. We sat under the awning with the bird across our knees while a radio played chart music somewhere down the row. "Hold the tail still," he said. "It's the only honest part of him."

By seven the field was full of lanterns, and the bird was back on Pring's hand with its beak strung up in a neat loop that made it grin lopsidedly. The first show went badly. Nobody laughed at the old joke about the tea urn. Then a small girl in a yellow raincoat shouted that the bird looked frightened, and the bird, which had never once in my memory been frightened of anything, swung its head round and let out a squawk so loud the generator coughed.

After the show Pring unpicked the line and folded the bird into its box. "Is he frightened of the dark?" I asked. Pring tapped the lid twice. "Only of the mud." I kept the tail, a length of orange fur worn thin at the tip, because it had come away in my hand and nobody else wanted it.