It is D-shaped, roughly 7.6 metres across from east to west, and what gives it its unusual character is the way it has been assembled from entirely different kinds of boundary. One side is natural, one is engineered, and one is something in between.

The straight western edge of the enclosure is defined not by a wall or bank but by a sunken trackway, around six metres wide, running roughly 19 metres from north to south. Sunken trackways are exactly what they sound like: routes worn or cut below the surrounding ground level through long use or deliberate construction, and they appear across the Irish landscape in various periods from prehistory onward. Here, a field boundary runs along the trackway's western flank, so that this single feature serves multiple purposes at once, as route, as boundary, and as edge. The interior's curved northern and southern arc, meanwhile, is shaped by the natural topography, a steep slope that does much of the enclosing work on its own. At the eastern side, however, the natural slope has been deliberately scarped to a height of about 2.6 metres, cutting a clean artificial face into what the terrain had already begun. Below that scarp sits a narrow terrace, just 1.8 metres wide, before the ground falls away sharply again.

What was this place for? The notes offer no date and no direct function, and without excavation it is difficult to say. The combination of a repurposed trackway, a scarped natural slope, and a small interior terrace suggests something practical rather than ceremonial, perhaps a stock enclosure making the most of existing features in the landscape rather than imposing entirely new ones. It sits in pasture still, the Ox Mountains rising behind it, the slope falling away to the north, and the old sunken track still marking one side of a space that somebody, at some point, decided was worth defining.