Back of a woman's neck with her hair in a bun, showing a small fine line tattoo of two birds in flight in black ink.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two small birds on the back of the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph from behind of a woman with her hair tied up in a loose bun, showing a small tattoo of two birds in flight on the back of her neck. The birds are solid black silhouettes with simple, delicate outlines, and the upper bird sits slightly above and to the left of the lower one. The plain cream background and blue tank top keep the focus on the small, single-colour design.

Fine line Neck Bird Flight

Find an artist for this

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

The boat was already past the breakwater when Ruth noticed the birds. They were skimming the slipway so low their wings nearly brushed the wet weed, and she knew what that meant before her father did. He was still checking the mooring line, humming the same hymn he always hummed when the glass dropped. 'Two of them,' she said. 'Following the lower one.' He squinted up, said nothing, and that was how he agreed with her.

Keep reading

They had come in from the north every summer for as long as the harbourmaster kept a book, and nobody in Crane Haven thought of them as birds so much as weather with feathers. Her father used to say that a pair flying close enough to share a breath were courting, and a pair flying apart were saying goodbye. These two kept a wingspan between them the whole way across the water, the upper one always a little ahead and to the left, as if checking the lower one was still there.

The storm came in at four. They rode it out in the lee of the fish market with the lamps lit and the wireless hissing, and when the sky finally cleared the sea lay grey and flat as a slate roof. Ruth found the two birds at first light, huddled on the pier rail, fluffed up against the cold. Her father had gone out alone before dawn, and she watched the gap between the birds stay exactly where it had been all summer.

He came back on the evening tide with the hold half full. She was waiting at the top of the slip, and he did not have to say a word. He just pointed up at the rooftops, where the two birds were coming home together.