Photorealistic colour tattoo of a black and white cow head among yellow buttercups on a blue background, placed on the calf.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic cow head with buttercups on a calf

Realism · Calf · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a black and white cow's head turned towards the viewer, with a brown eye, pale muzzle and a dark ear, set against a blue and green backdrop. Yellow buttercup-style flowers on tall green stems frame the lower half of the design. The shading is smooth and detailed, with soft highlights on the fur and nose, and the image is shot straight on with the tattoo filling most of the frame.

Realism Calf Flower Grass Sky

Find an artist for this

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

Mabel Trewin had been bottle-feeding the Hollin calf since Tuesday, when the cattle lorry was held up at the crossing and the farmer said he couldn't be bothered to turn round for one small beast. Arthur Pell, the stationmaster at Hollin Halt, let it stay in the goods shed on the condition that nobody mentioned it to the inspector. The shed smelled of paraffin and wet sacking, and the calf stood in the lamplight with its white blaze tilted, looking at everything as though it were already disappointed by it.

Keep reading

Every morning Mabel walked the embankment and cut the buttercups that grew thick along the cutting, carrying them back in her cardigan pockets. The calf would not eat them. It only nosed them about in the straw, pushing the yellow heads one way and then the other, until the shed floor looked like a field had been spilt across it. Pell said that was the most useful thing the calf had done all week, since it kept the rats off the seed sacks by sneezing at them.

On Friday the milk train slowed for the platform and the guard leaned out with his flag. The calf would not go up the ramp into the van. It planted its hooves on the boards, lowered its head, and bellowed at the field across the line as though it could see its mother standing there. The guard swore, Pell swore back, and the train sat hissing while the steam drifted over the hedges.

In the end Mabel gave up and walked the calf out of the shed and along the cutting, the rails gleaming on one side and the buttercups nodding on the other. Behind them the milk train pulled away without a sound from its passengers. By evening the calf was lying in the long grass by the gate, chewing nothing in particular, and Mabel sat beside it with yellow pollen on her palms that would not wash off for days.