Neo-traditional style flash drawing of a cartoon hummingbird with a large eye, teal body and yellow-green tail feathers, on a grey background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon hummingbird flash design

Neo-trad · Colour · Flash

A cartoon hummingbird in mid-flight, drawn with a large expressive eye with lashes, a long grey beak and a teal body. The wings and tail are shaded in yellow-green and teal with black outlines, and the bird is set against a plain grey paper background.

Neo-trad Hummingbird Bird Eye Cartoon Flight

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hummingbird came to the Hallowell Fair the same week my uncle lost his false teeth in the cider barrel, so nobody paid it much mind at first. It hung over the lemonade stand like a little green helicopter with opinions, and every time Mrs Pruitt tried to shoo it with her apron it dodged her by a clean inch and gave her a look that could curdle milk. Its big eye had lashes thick as a cart-horse's, and it kept batting them at the judges' table until Mr Gorse, who had judged the marrow competition for thirty years and never once been flustered, went red to the ears and handed over the blue ribbon before anyone had finished the pie.

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I was twelve and had been dared to catch it. Dennis Haig said birds that fast were too clever to be caught by a boy with a jam jar, and he was right, but I had a plan involving a bucket of sugar water and a great deal of patience. By four o'clock the thing was sipping from the bucket with its long grey beak, one eye half shut in contentment, and I was lying flat in the grass with my heart going like a sewing machine. It looked up at me. It winked. I swear on my grandmother's grave it winked.

I never did catch it. When I stood up it simply rose on that bright teal and yellow-green wing and hovered at the height of my nose, tilted its head as if reconsidering the whole business, and then was gone over the church roof towards the reservoir. Dennis said I'd made the whole thing up. Mrs Pruitt said it was a bad omen for the marrows. I have kept the empty bucket on my windowsill for seventy years, and on the days I feel too sensible for my own good, I give it a fresh spoonful of sugar water and wait to see who comes.