Solid black blackwork tattoo of a soaring bird silhouette on the inner wrist, with the open palm raised towards the camera.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small bird silhouette on the wrist

Blackwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small, solid black silhouette of a bird in flight, with spread wings and a forked tail, sits on the inner wrist below an open palm. The shape is filled with solid black ink with no shading or interior detail, and the edges are crisp. The photograph is black and white against a plain, pale grey background, with the tattoo placed low on the wrist and the hand fully in frame.

Blackwork Forearm Bird Eagle Silhouette Wing Wrist

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

The kestrel had been sold to the glassmaker's wife for a bolt of blue linen, and by the time the bargain was struck the bird had already decided it would not stay. Tomas, who kept the watchtower above the salt marsh of Harrowmere, found it on the third morning sitting on the sill of the lamp room, feathers ruffled against the fog. He did not know its name. He only knew that the bolt of linen had gone somewhere in the south and that the bird had come back without it.

Keep reading

He fed it strips of dried herring and talked to it about the tides, which were the only subject he had ever been any good at. The kestrel listened the way a magistrate listens, head cocked, unimpressed. Within a week it was riding the updraughts above the sea wall, cutting wide circles that drew the gulls out of their nests in a panic. The harbourmaster complained. The glassmaker's wife came up the spiral stairs one afternoon, breathless, and asked whether the bird might be sold again, for a better price this time.

Tomas said that the bird was not for sale. The woman laughed and said everything in Harrowmere was for sale, including the lamp oil and the bell. He thought about this for a long while after she had gone. That night he opened the shutters wide, lit the lamp, and waited. In the morning the sill was empty, and far out past the breakwater a dark shape was turning slowly over the grey water, its wings spread wide and its forked tail open like a pair of shears, going somewhere that did not need a bargain.