That, in a way, is what makes this spot worth knowing about. Where a low mound of stones once sat in the landscape, only a record of it now survives, the physical thing having vanished entirely between the time it was first described and the present day.

A surveyor named O'Connell recorded the structure at this location on the Iveragh Peninsula, noting an irregular mound of stones roughly 18 feet across and just 2 feet high, with a spread of stone running downslope from its northern side. At the centre was a narrow lintelled chamber, a passage roofed with flat covering stones, measuring 10 feet long by 2 feet wide and 2 feet high. The walls were made of slabs set on edge, and the southern end was apsidal, meaning it curved to a rounded close rather than terminating in a straight wall. What covered the lintels was as telling as the structure itself: a layer of greasy black earth, roughly 6 inches thick, the kind of residue associated with repeated burning. On the basis of this, the structure was identified as a probable corn-drying kiln. These were a common feature of pre-modern Irish agriculture, used to dry grain before milling, particularly in damp western climates where air-drying alone was unreliable. The heat source was typically a flue or firebox beneath the drying floor, and over years of use such kilns would accumulate exactly the kind of scorched, fatty deposit that O'Connell recorded here. The description was later published in A. O'Sullivan and J. Sheehan's archaeological survey of the Iveragh Peninsula, issued by Cork University Press in 1996.