Black and white photo of two people's ankles, each with a small fine line tattoo of two birds perched on a branch with leaves, placed on the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching birds on a branch on two ankles

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two pairs of ankles are shown side by side, each with a small tattoo of two birds perched on a thin branch with tiny leaves or hearts. The linework is fine and dark, with small areas of solid black for the birds, and the image is in black and white. The tattoos sit at the same height on each ankle, with the bare feet and a patterned floor visible around them.

Fine line Ankle Bird Branch Leaves Heart Matching

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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

Sit yourself down on that cask, you're letting the wasps in. The old Pennick orchard had one tree that never fruited, a tall pear on the north wall with bark like cold pewter. The village said it was the frost of seventy-six, or the bad soil, but my grandmother said the tree was waiting on a pair.

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Late August it was, the year the wall came half down, when two girls came up from the mill with a jam jar of ink and a darning needle between them. Bessie Coyle and her cousin Ada, both with hair like wet straw, both forever finishing each other's songs. They sat under the pear all afternoon, pricking two small birds onto the one thin branch, one bird leaning in to the other, and where the leaves should have gone they made tiny hearts. Nobody saw them do it. The wasps did, and went off grumbling.

Ada went south for work that winter and Bessie stayed to nurse her mother. Every August the two of them wrote the same letter, one line each, and every August the pear stood bare as a bone. The farmer's boy took to climbing it to see what the fuss was about. He came down to report only that the birds were drawn very fine, and that the hearts had gone brown at the edges like old paper.

The summer Bessie's hands gave out, Ada came back up the lane with her hat crushed in her fist. They stood under the tree without speaking until a blackbird landed between the two birds and sang. Next morning the pear was heavy with fruit, every one of them split and sweet. That's the whole of it. Mind the wasps on your way out.