It is not dramatic to look at, measuring roughly eleven metres north to south and just over eight metres east to west at its top, and rising less than a metre above the surrounding ground. But its shape, a subrectangular platform defined by a dilapidated stony scarp, and the large stones protruding from its western side, suggest something more deliberate than a natural rise in the ground. Those stones may be the remnants of a stone facing or a wall, the kind of construction detail that points toward an enclosure or platform of genuine antiquity, even if its original function remains unclear.

The mound has a paper trail of sorts, though it tells only part of the story. The 1838 Ordnance Survey six-inch map shows an oval enclosure of around eighteen metres north to south and ten metres east to west, with its western edge already incorporated into a field boundary, suggesting the feature had been folded into the working landscape long before the surveyors arrived. By the 1915 edition, the cartographers recorded an oblong hachured feature at the same location, hachuring being the fine radiating lines used on older maps to indicate a raised or sloping form. The mound as it stands today appears to be composed of earth and stones, with a faint raised rim still visible in parts along the north-west edge, and a low sod-covered stony rise extending southward from the south-west corner, probably the last trace of a field fence.

A crabapple tree grows from the top of the mound at its northern end, and hawthorn and elder have taken hold around the scarp. Croagh Patrick is visible on the north-western horizon, with the Partry Mountains stretching away to the west, and an expanse of bog lying a few hundred metres to the south-east. The site sits in working farmland, and grazing animals have worn away sections of the surface and scarp over time, leaving the mound in a state of slow, unspectacular erosion.