Small solid black silhouette tattoo of a giraffe and its calf on the inside of a wrist, with the hand raised and a checked sleeve visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Giraffe and calf silhouette on a wrist

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows two black silhouettes of giraffes, a taller adult and a smaller calf standing side by side, both facing left. The shapes are solid black with no visible shading or interior linework. The design is small and sits on the inner wrist against a blurred background, with the hand raised and a checked shirt sleeve at the bottom of the frame.

Forearm Giraffe Calf Animal Silhouette

Find an artist for this

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

Hush now, and mind that gull, he's had his eye on my pasty since the tide turned. The ship that came into Carrick Quay that spring was no fishing boat, whatever Dolly Mayhew told the council. She carried a crate on her deck taller than the wheelhouse, and inside it stood a giraffe, as tall as the lamp posts, with a calf no bigger than a sheepdog pressed against her legs.

Keep reading

The dockers wouldn't unload them. Said a beast that long in the neck would snap a gantry the minute she lifted her head. So the captain, Tobias Greer, who owed money to every pub between here and Penzance, sold the crate to a man with a lorry and asked no questions. The calf was the trouble. Every time they tried to coax the mother up the ramp, the little one bolted for the sea wall and stood there, legs braced, facing the harbour mouth as if something out past the breakwater had promised to come back for her.

Old Ada kept the chandlery by the slipway. She watched the lorry crawl past with its canvas flapping, and the calf turned on the cobbles and looked straight at her, the way you'd look at someone who owed you a favour. Ada had a sharp pencil and a sharper memory for shapes. That night she drew the pair of them on the back of a tide table, black and simple, the way the dusk takes a thing down to its outline.

The lorry went north and nobody in Carrick saw those giraffes again. But if you go down to the sea wall at low water, you'll see them still, if you squint against the sun. One tall, one small, standing shoulder to shoulder, waiting on a ship that's never coming back.