Small fine line black ink tattoo of an owl perched on a branch on the inner forearm, with a green leafy background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small owl on a branch on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of an owl perched on a bare branch sits on the inner forearm of a person wearing a white top and denim jeans. The owl is drawn in fine black linework with light hatched shading across its feathers and a detailed face with rounded eyes. The background is out of focus green foliage, and the tattoo is the clear focal point of the image.

Fine line Forearm Owl Branch Bird

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tuesday, the last of the wet weather. The big top at Pellow's Travelling Show came down in pieces this morning, and I had to sit on an upturned crate by the generator to stop my hands shaking when the canvas went. Mr Pellow has gone to Dorking to sell the elephant's trailer and will not say what he will do with the ring. Nobody has been paid since August.

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What I did not tell him is that the owl is still in the wagon. The old Scots lady who did the high wire, Mrs Abernethy, left her a crate of mice and a bit of ash branch before she went north. The bird has never once flown in daylight, only sat on that bough with her round yellow eyes watching the lamp, as if she were counting the stalls. I brought her a fresh mouse tonight. She took it from my fingers without a sound, which is more than I can say for the rest of this company.

Thursday. Wind from the west. I have decided that the owl belongs to the ground now, not to the show, and I have written a note for whoever finds the wagon, saying she is to be left at the edge of the wood by the ford where the old tent pegs were buried. I walked her there at dusk with the lantern. She sat on the lowest limb of a fallen oak and turned her head all the way round to look at me, the way she does, and I swear she looked almost sorry for me.

The wagon is empty now. I am leaving the crate open.