Two hands with small fine line tattoos on the fingers, a tree on one finger and an owl on another, in black ink.

Tree, owl and matching finger tattoos

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

The top panel shows two hands with small black tattoos: a bare tree with branching lines on one finger and an owl with outlined feathers on the adjacent finger. The bottom panel shows fingers with the words hers and his written in thin black script, with a ring visible above. The linework is fine and the ink is black and grey, set against plain skin in a close, simple composition.

Fine line Lettering Hand Tree Owl Script Ring

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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

Right, sit down, the lot of you, and stop pretending you remember the cloakroom. I'll tell it the way old Mr Pryce told it at the leavers' do, because he was right about the owl and wrong about nearly everything else. There was a bare oak at the bottom of Sallow Lane, dead for a decade, its branches like the fingers of a hand held up to stop traffic. Every dusk a barn owl sat in it and watched the lock gates, and nobody in Harrowby could say who had first decided the bird was waiting for someone.

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Two of you, in those days, were forever in that lane after the bell. Tom Ledger said the owl was a witch's familiar and Ruth Carbery said it was only hungry, and they argued across the stile until the light went. Ruth lost the argument but won the bet: a pound that Tom would not climb the oak and shake the owl out. He climbed. The owl did not move. It only turned its head the full way round and looked at him as though he were a parcel delivered to the wrong house.

They never settled it. Tom went to Leeds to build bridges and Ruth stayed to run the post office, and when they met again in the Crown they found they had both drawn the same thing on a beer mat: a tree with its arms out, and beside it the owl, and under each a single word, hers and his, joined by a line like a branch.

Ruth saw the beer mat and laughed so hard she spilt her sherry. Tom asked what was funny. 'The owl,' she said. 'It's been watching us the whole time, you daft article.' Out past the car park, in a dead oak nobody has ever had the heart to cut down, it kept on watching.