Colour tattoo of two hummingbirds among roses, dahlias and blossoms across the upper chest, shown on a person wearing a white top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hummingbirds and roses across the upper chest

Neo-trad · Chest · Colour · Photo

Two hummingbirds face each other above a central red rose, with purple dahlias, pink blossoms, orange flowers and red leaves filling out a wide, symmetrical design across the upper chest. The work uses bold outlines with smooth colour shading in orange, green, red, pink and purple. The tattoo spans the collarbones and the top of the chest, and the photograph is taken straight on against a white top.

Neo-trad Botanical Chest Hummingbird Rose Dahlia Blossom Flower Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The dahlias were already dropping their petals when the two hummingbirds came down the terrace steps of Carrowmere, one copper-gold and one green as a beetle's back, both of them furious with the same rose.

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I was the under-gardener then, sixteen and sunburnt, and nobody had told me that the Queen of the Lower Gardens and the Queen of the Hill Orchards had quarrelled over that bush for three summers. Each had sent a bird to claim its first bloom. The rule of the kingdom was plain: whoever carried the first red rose to the throne would be named heir to the valley. I had been told to water the bed and keep out of the way, which is how I came to see the rest.

They circled the bush, wings blurring, and it was the gold one that stopped first. It hung in the air, looked at the green one, then at the rose, then at its own feet, which it had never once used. The green bird made a small rattling sound I took for a curse. Then it drifted closer and did something I still cannot explain: it folded its wings and bowed its long beak to the gold one's, and the two of them stayed there, nose to nose, over the open bloom.

The queens never got their rose. By morning the whole bed had come out in pink and purple, and the old gardener said the birds had taken the best of every flower in the valley and woven it round the one they had agreed to share. I never told anyone that the rose was still there at dusk, untouched, with both birds asleep on the same branch. Some things are better left to the person holding the watering can.