Colour tattoo of a peacock feather with a red and blue eye spot running down the inner forearm, drawn in fine black linework.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Peacock feather on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A peacock feather is tattooed along the forearm, with fine black linework tracing the barbs and shaft. The feather's eye is filled with teal, red and blue ink, while the rest of the feather is mostly shaded in black and dark green. The plain pale wall behind keeps the focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Realism Forearm Peacock feather Feather Eye

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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

Nell Pargeter had been sorting the Thursday post for twenty minutes when the peacock came down off the roof again and started tapping at the window with its beak, as if it had also been told the parcels were late. Mr Harker, who ran the counter at Stannick post office and disliked birds of all kinds, said the bird belonged to the Hallworths at the big house and ought to be sent back up the lane in a sack. Nell said nothing. She had been watching it moult for a week and had counted seven feathers lying in the gutter outside the chemist's.

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The one she picked up that morning was longer than her forearm and still smelt faintly of rain. Held to the light from the door, its eye had three rings: a dark green edge, a ring of copper red, and at its centre a blue so deep it looked wet. Her brother Tom had gone to sea in '46 and never sent word, and he used to say a peacock's eye was the only thing in the world that could watch you from behind.

Nell slid the feather into an envelope meant for the Leeds rates office, folded the paper around its shaft, and wrote the address in her neatest hand. Mr Harker would only open it if it came back. She put it in the outgoing sack and stamped it twice.

At five the bird was asleep on the chimney, one blue eye open to the lane. Nell watched it until the van came, and imagined the Leeds clerk slitting the envelope and finding, instead of a rate, a small green stare looking straight back at him.