They are easy to miss, their walls reduced to barely a few centimetres above ground, yet the footprint of one possible dwelling, measuring roughly ten and a half metres north to south and seven metres east to west, is clear enough. A gap in the eastern wall, about two and a half metres wide, is likely the original entrance, and a faint internal division running east to west hints at how the interior may once have been organised.

Aerial photographs taken in 1968 first revealed earthwork patterns around the nearby church that suggested a medieval or post-medieval settlement on this upland outcrop. What emerged from closer study is a loose constellation of remains: this rectangular structure sits some thirteen metres to the west-northwest of the church, while two further possible house sites lie respectively thirty-five metres to the northwest and twenty metres to the southeast. A large enclosure some forty-four metres to the northeast and a smaller one immediately northwest of the church round out the picture. The date of any occupation remains indeterminate, and whether the structures belonged to a farming community, a church settlement, or something else entirely is unresolved. The wall-footings themselves, with a base width of over three metres tapering to under two at the crest, are consistent with rubble construction typical of rural vernacular building across many centuries in Ireland, but nothing about this particular site pins it to a specific period.

The ridge location is part of what makes the site quietly compelling. Positioned on a rock outcrop with open views in every direction, the choice of ground speaks to concerns that recur across Irish settlement history: visibility, defensibility, and the practical logic of building on stone rather than boggy lowland. The settlement, whatever its date, was not placed here by accident.