Colour realism tattoo of three blue birds perched on a branch with pink and red blossoms, across the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Three blue birds on a blossom branch

Realism · Forearm · Colour · Photo

Three blue songbirds sit along a brown branch, with pink and red blossoms at the top and bottom of the design. The birds have soft, blended shading in turquoise and lilac, with fine detail in their eyes, beaks and tail feathers. The image is a close crop of the arm against a pale green, out-of-focus background, with the design running diagonally across the frame.

Realism Botanical Forearm Bird Branch Blossom Flower Songbird

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

By ten to five the flour is still hanging in the light over the bench, and the blue tits are already on the wall outside the back door, three of them in a row like customers who arrived before the sign was turned. I have never once been first to the step. My father baked on Dewsbury Road for forty years and swore birds knew the smell of rye before a man did, and I took that for the sort of thing old men say about the weather.

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The first one comes down for the heel of yesterday's batch, a crust tough enough to need a hammer, and the second follows because the first is a bully about it. The third stays on the branch of the blossom tree that leans over the bin yard, pink flowers pushing out of the bark as if someone had been painting in a hurry. She never comes down while I'm watching. I tried for a week, standing by the door with my hands in my apron, and she just tilted her head at me as though I were the odd one.

On the Thursday before Easter I stopped trying to catch her. I cut the crust thinner, left it on the step beside a saucer of water, and went back in to get on with the laminations. When I looked out again the first bird was pecking at the crumbs with one wing lifted for balance, and the other two had flown up to the blossom to wait for the third.

I left the back door open for the rest of the morning, which Dad would have had something to say about. When the light came up grey over the bins, I found I had been counting them under my breath, one, two, three, the way you count loaves out of the oven to be sure none have gone missing.