It measures just 3.4 metres east to west and 2.3 metres north to south, barely large enough to have sheltered one or two people. The walls, built in drystone, a technique using carefully stacked stones without mortar, have fallen to a height of roughly half a metre, and the eastern side is buried further under grass and heather. A narrow entrance, only 0.4 metres wide, faces south, and there is a slight gap in the western wall as well.

What gives the site its particular character is not the hut alone but its setting within a broader, now-abandoned landscape. It sits in a sheltered hollow above the Thureehouma stream, surrounded by the traces of relict field boundaries, the ghostly outlines of an agricultural system that has long since gone out of use. A second hut site lies just one metre to the north, suggesting this was once, in some form, a place where people lived or worked in proximity to one another. Together, the two structures and the field systems around them hint at a community that organised itself carefully across this rough hill pasture, choosing the hollow for its shelter and the south-east aspect for what light and warmth that slope could offer.