Close-up photo of a small red elephant tattoo with a black outline and raised trunk on brown skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red elephant tattoo with raised trunk

Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a single elephant in profile with its trunk curled upwards and one foreleg lifted. The body is filled with reddish ink and outlined in black, with some soft shading along the form. It sits against brown skin, and the tight close-up crop leaves the body part unclear.

Elephant Trunk Animal

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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

You want to know why Ada Pruett carried a red elephant on her hip all her days? Sit down, then, and mind the cat. It was the summer the Ransome circus wintered in the field behind the Co-op, and the elephant was called Madge, though nobody could say who had named her. Madge had a bad foreleg that she lifted off the ground whenever she was thinking, and the children of Wyvenhall copied her every afternoon until the whole street walked lopsided.

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Ada was nine and had no pennies, so she traded what she had, which was a jam jar of marbles and a promise to fetch the keeper's tea. The keeper was a thin man named Dougie Sloane who smelled of hay and liniment. He let her stand by the rail while Madge lifted her trunk to the sky and trumpeted at the church bell, which was the only thing in Wyvenhall that ever answered her back. Ada said, Does it hurt, the leg? and Dougie said, Only when she's waiting for something she won't get.

The circus left before the harvest, as circuses do, and nobody saw Madge again. But that autumn a travelling tattooist set up in the back of the chemist's, and Ada, who had saved every ha'penny, came home with a small red elephant inked above her hip, its trunk raised high as if calling someone in from a long way off. Her mother cried, and then laughed, and then made her a pot of tea. I suppose that is the whole of it, though my own mother always said the ink was the only red thing in the village that never once asked her to be sorry.