Fine line black and grey tattoo of two birds perched on a leafy branch, with a third bird in flight above, on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Three birds on a branch on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a small tattoo on the forearm showing two birds perched on a thin, leafy twig and a third bird flying above them. The linework is delicate, with soft shading on the feathers and fine detail on the leaves. The design is in black ink only against pale skin, with a dark fabric background.

Fine line Forearm Bird Branch Leaves Twig 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

Dear Ruth,

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The gulls have gone quiet since the Marigold went out on Tuesday, which Mam says means weather, though she says most things mean weather. I have been sitting on the wall above the slipway with my tea going cold, watching two sparrows on Dad's old washing line argue over a bit of string. Every morning one flies off to the hedge, the other follows, and they come back to the same wire as if nobody had told them the arrangement was over.

Your brother came up the cobbles this afternoon with a box of crab pots he had mended himself, badly, and asked after you. I said you were fine, in the voice you use when you mean the opposite. He laughed the way he does and said that was exactly what he'd expected. He has your hands, you know, long and clumsy at the knuckle, always reaching for something just out of range.

There was a third bird on the line this morning, a small brown thing that landed hard, looked at the other two as if they had been rude, then went straight up over the roof. I watched it until the chimney took it. You always said you would fly off one day and never mind the rest of us. I used to hate hearing that. Now I find I would rather hear it than the silence.

The Marigold is due in on the evening tide. If you read this in Aberdeen, don't wait for a reply. Just come home by the road past the lighthouse, and I will be on the wall with the kettle on and the sparrows arguing.

Love, Nan