Fine line tattoo of two pink flamingos with small black stars on the upper arm near the elbow.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two flamingos and stars on an upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

Two pink flamingos stand side by side, drawn with thin black lines for their legs and small black outlines for their eyes. Two small stars sit beside them, one solid black and one outlined. The pink ink dominates, with soft shading on the birds' bodies against a plain pale background.

Fine line Upper arm Flamingo Bird Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Odile Penhaligon had kept the boating lake at Carrow Flats for thirty-one winters, and in all that time nobody had seen a flamingo come within a hundred miles of it. So when two pink birds turned up on the second Tuesday of January, standing knee-deep in the frozen margin as if they had booked the place, she put the kettle on and went out in her slippers to complain.

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"You're not on the list," she told the taller one. It considered her with one black-ringed eye, then bent its neck into a perfect S, the way a schoolmaster bends over a bad sum. The smaller bird copied it a beat behind. Odile saw that they had come a long way on legs as thin as knitting needles, and that neither of them meant to leave until the ice let go. Above the lake the first stars were pricking through, two sharp and one faint, and she could have sworn the birds were looking at those instead of her.

Her late husband used to say flamingos were only pink because they ate the right sort of shrimp, and that you became what you ate, which had been his excuse for most things. She fetched a bag of cheap mixed seed from the shed, scattered it across the crust, and sat on the bench to watch them work their beaks upside down through the slush.

By morning one side of the lake had thawed into a clean dark mirror, and the pair were gone. In their place, drawn in wet black mud on the jetty post, stood two long legs and two small stars, and beneath them a single word she had to squint at: thanks. Odile did not tell the council. She left the seed out every night after that, and every night it was gone by dawn.