Peacock feather tattoo on a foot
Other · Colour · Photo
A peacock feather runs diagonally across the top of a foot, curving from the ankle towards the toes, with its eye at the end near the toes. The feather has dark grey outlines, fine barbs and dotted detail, with green, yellow and olive shading along the vane. The eye is filled with blue and orange, and the photograph is taken against a plain black background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The peacock came over the wall of Mr Abel Tench's yard the week the tide took the chapel steps, and by Saturday it had moved into the bakehouse roof as though it had paid rent. No one knew whose it was. Pim, the carter's boy, swore it had walked up from the Fens, and Mrs Hallam said a sailor's widow had let her birds go. I only knew it screamed at four every morning, like a bad hinge, and that I was the one who had to climb up after it.
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I caught it on the Thursday with a fish net and a great deal of bad language. It fought me the whole way down the ladder, and when it finally went still in my arms I saw that its tail feathers were longer than my forearm, green gone to bronze at the tips, each one ending in a single eye, blue at the centre and ringed in orange like a sunrise seen through glass. I had never seen a living thing so plainly showing off. I started counting the eyes and gave up at forty.
Tench wanted it sold to the menagerie at Yarmouth for two pounds. The bird had other ideas, and I confess I had a few of my own. On the last night before the cart, I opened the gate and stood in the lane with my lantern. It did not leave. It walked along the top of the wall, dragging its tail through the wet nettles, stopping every few yards to turn and look back at me, as if to check I was still following.
Three weeks later a single feather came to me in the post from Yarmouth, rolled in brown paper with no note. Its eye is as wide as a shilling. I keep it in the drawer with my father's watch, and on nights when the sea is loud I open the drawer just far enough to watch the blue catch the lamp, and I think of the bird somewhere along the coast, keeping its own counsel.
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