Black and grey tattoo of a large-eyed owl perched on a bare branch, placed on the top of a person's shoulder.

Owl on a branch on the shoulder

Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A cartoon-style owl with large round eyes and feathered wings sits on a thin, bare branch that trails off to the left. The linework is dark and fairly bold, with soft grey shading on the body, wings and branch. The tattoo is shown in black and grey with a faint reddish tint on the chest, and it sits centrally on the shoulder with plenty of skin around it.

Shoulder Owl Bird Branch Eye Feather

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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

Don't reach for the kettle yet, boy, the owl hasn't finished looking at us. Every evening the fleet came round the Skerry light, and every evening there sat Hebe Corrie's owl on the crooked bit of driftwood nailed above the gutting shed, eyes like two pewter plates, watching the boats as if they owed him rent.

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The winter the Margaret went out, nobody thought to ask the owl his opinion. Ruairi Sinclair was skipper then, a man who put more faith in his own barometer than in the sky. He said the owl had been sulking since August and wasn't worth a glance. So they sailed, and the owl didn't come down from his branch, not once, not even when the first squall hit and the gulls went screaming inland like their tails were on fire.

When the sea finally came over the rail, the crew swore they heard a sound like a cough from somewhere above the mast. And there he was, perched on the boom, feathers flat and that same look on his face, as if he'd been waiting all night for someone to be sensible. They found their bearings by the flicker of his eyes and came home with a hold full of herring and every man still in his boots.

The branch is still above that shed, and the owl still sits on it. Ruairi bought him a new bit of driftwood the spring after, and he never once sailed without greeting him. Mind your step on the slipway, lad. Some of us only ever get one good look at the thing we should have listened to.