Small black and grey fine line tattoo of a fox sitting upright with its tail curled beside it, placed on the skin behind a person's ear.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sitting fox tattoo behind the ear

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small fox sits upright in profile, with its head raised and its bushy tail curling along the ground beside it. The outline is drawn in fine dark lines, with soft grey shading on the body and tail. The tattoo sits alone against plain skin, with the ear and dark hair framing the edges of a warm, sepia-toned photograph.

Fine line Neck Fox 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

The fox came down to the harbour wall every evening after the last ferry had gone, and it sat the way my grandmother sat in church, spine straight, head lifted as if someone had called its name from the far end of the bay. Nobody on Scarrow kept foxes. The sheep were too valuable and the rabbits too few, so it had no business being there at all, and yet there it was, tail curled round its feet like a loose length of rope.

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I was nineteen that summer and mending nets for my uncle Tam, who didn't believe in much but believed in fair weather and a full tally. I started leaving the crusts from my sandwich on the wall. The fox never came closer than the width of two boats. It watched the lighthouse instead, the old beam swinging out over the grey water, and it seemed to be counting something.

In October the boats stopped going out. Tam took the engine apart in the shed and didn't speak for a week, and I walked the cliff path alone with the wind pushing at my back. The fox was on the wall as usual. When I sat down, it didn't run. It turned its head towards the mainland, where the lights of the terminal were coming on one by one, and then it looked at me, and I understood it was waiting for the same boat I was.

The ferry came in on the Thursday. I got on with a paper bag of crusts I had forgotten to throw away, and when I looked back from the stern the fox was still on the wall, small and upright, its tail curled neatly beside it, keeping watch over the water that was still ours.