Small black fine line tattoo of a flying bird on the inner forearm, above the wrist, with a stacked gold and black bracelet set and a light blue denim shirt and jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small bird tattoo on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo of a bird in flight sits on the inner forearm, near the wrist, of a person wearing a pale blue denim shirt and light blue jeans. The bird is drawn in simple, thin linework with light shading and no colour. The photo is a close, softly lit crop against a white wall, with stacked bracelets on the wrist and the hand resting by the hip.

Fine line Forearm Bird Swallow Flying bird

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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

Pell's mother kept a walled garden at the bottom of the lane, and in it stood a pear tree that had not fruited since the year the river rose. Nobody agreed on why. The old men said the tree was waiting for a debt to be paid, and the women said it was only old.

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Every spring a single swallow came over the wall and perched on the top branch, and every spring Pell carried out a crust of bread and a cup of milk and waited for it to speak. It never spoke. It only looked at the house, then at the gate, then flew off towards the sea as if it had somewhere better to be.

The summer Pell turned twelve, the swallow came late and thin, one wing bent at the joint. She set down the bread and, because nobody was watching, she took the bird in both hands. Its heart went like a clock wound too tight. She carried it to the kitchen, where her mother was salting beans, and laid it on the table between them.

Her mother looked for a long time. Then she said the bird had crossed the sea twice that year, and a bird who crosses twice has earned a name. Pell called it Harrow, after the field where it was hatched. In the morning Harrow was gone, and the pear tree was in blossom, the colour of milk. The old men came down the lane to look at it and said nothing, which was the most they ever said about anything good.