Aerial photographs suggest it was levelled sometime between 1995 and 2000, which places its disappearance within living memory rather than the distant past. Before that erasure, it was a broadly circular enclosure, roughly 35 metres north to south and 31.5 metres east to west, the kind of scale that would have made it a moderately substantial example of its type.

Ringforts, known in Irish as raths when formed from earth and bank rather than stone, were the typical farmstead enclosures of early medieval Ireland, built and occupied roughly between the fifth and twelfth centuries. The Tullig example followed the familiar pattern: an earthen bank enclosing a level interior, with an external fosse, or ditch, dug to provide the material for that bank and to add a further barrier. At the time of a ground survey in September 1985, the bank still stood to an internal height of 3.2 metres, with the outer face rising about 1.1 metres above the surrounding ground. The fosse was hardest to trace on the western and north-western sides, but survived more clearly along the south-eastern arc, where it measured four metres wide and 1.4 metres deep. A probable entrance, also four metres wide, was noted at the northern side. What made this particular rath slightly unusual was an addition recorded on the second edition Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1897 to 1898: a limekiln built directly into the eastern bank. Limekilns were stone-built furnaces used to burn limestone and produce quicklime for agricultural use, and it was not uncommon for later generations to make opportunistic use of an old earthwork's bulk as ready-made shelter or structural support for such a structure. By the time of the 1985 survey, dense vegetation had hidden the kiln entirely.

There is little left to find at Tullig now. The levelling recorded in the aerial photographic evidence means that the bank, the fosse, the possible entrance, and whatever remained of the limekiln have in all likelihood been absorbed back into the surrounding farmland. What the site represents, then, is not so much a place to visit as a useful reminder that the Irish landscape contains absences as well as monuments, and that the record of a thing can outlast the thing itself by decades.