The earthwork, roughly 25 metres across at its longest, is the kind of feature that could be walked past without a second glance, its defining scarp partly levelled and in places reduced to nothing more than a broad, shallow slump about 40 centimetres high. What makes it quietly unsettling is not its shape or scale, but what local tradition says once lay within it: a children's burial ground.

Such burial grounds, known in Irish as cillíní, were used for centuries to inter unbaptised infants and others considered ineligible for consecrated ground. They appear throughout Ireland in liminal or marginal spots, often in the corners of fields or at the edges of townlands, and their presence at this site places it in a long and sorrowful strand of Irish funerary practice. The fort itself appears on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1838 as an embanked enclosure, and again on the 1930 edition as a subcircular enclosure outlined by hachuring, the cartographic convention for depicting earthen banks or scarps in plan. Both editions carry the name Knocknaglogh Fort, suggesting the feature was recognised and named by the surrounding community across at least a century of mapping. The scarp that defines the oval rise is most pronounced on the north-west side, while at the south-south-east a natural fall in the ground makes it appear almost linear rather than curved. Heaps of field clearance boulders have been pushed up against the eastern edge over the years, further obscuring the original form.

The fort sits in the north-west corner of a pasture field, close to the townland boundary, hemmed in by high field fences and with a forestry plantation roughly 300 metres to the south-east. Views open out only to the north-east and east. It is a place that feels turned in on itself, bounded and overlooked, which may in some way reflect why it was chosen for the purposes it once served.