Grass has long since grown over the drystone wall, softening its outline until it reads more as a subtle ridge than a deliberate structure, but the form is still legible: a circular hut, its entrance gap just wide enough for a person to pass through, oriented to face south. Drystone construction, which uses no mortar and relies entirely on the careful placement of stones against one another, has been used in Ireland for millennia, and structures of this kind appear across upland areas where people once grazed animals seasonally or worked the higher ground.

The interior of the hut survives as a level, grass-covered floor, which in itself suggests the walls once stood to a meaningful height, sheltering the ground within from the kind of disturbance that would roughen it. The external face of the remaining wall still stands just over a metre high in places, while the internal face is considerably lower, hinting at how much material has slumped outward over time. What draws particular attention is a depression roughly half a metre deep beneath a large boulder on the northern side of the interior. Its purpose is unknown, and it has resisted straightforward explanation. It may reflect a deliberate feature of the original structure, or it may be entirely incidental, the result of the stone settling over centuries. The uncertainty itself is part of what makes the site worth pausing over.