It is an easy thing to overlook, and historically it was: neither the 1837 Ordnance Survey six-inch map nor the 1913 twenty-five-inch edition recorded it at all. Whatever age it belongs to, it passed unacknowledged by the cartographers of two separate centuries.

The stone itself is triangular in profile, broadening at the base and tapering irregularly to a blunt point. It measures roughly 1.37 metres in height, 1.1 metres at its widest, and 0.8 metres at its thickest, with its long axis running north-east to south-west. At its western base lies a flat, sub-rectangular slab resting on the ground, and there is genuine uncertainty about what this recumbent piece represents. It may once have formed part of the standing stone itself, the two having split apart at some point, or it may simply be a natural limestone outcrop that happened to settle beside it. Small outcrops of limestone to the north and south of the monument make either explanation plausible. The surrounding field retains traces of old cultivation ridges running east to west, and a low earthen bank marking a former field boundary runs immediately to the west of the stone, a reminder that this landscape has been farmed and divided and redivided over a very long time. Rathconrath church and its graveyard lie about 150 metres to the north, and Rathconrath House, formerly the local Glebe House and once associated with the Church of Ireland parish, sits roughly 220 metres to the west-south-west.

What makes the site quietly odd is precisely its ambiguity. The erosion around the base, caused by livestock rather than archaeology, has complicated any reading of the ground context. The recumbent stone beside it could be a clue to the monument's original form or simply a piece of the local bedrock. Standing stones of this kind are typically prehistoric in origin, raised as boundary markers, ritual points, or territorial signals, though without excavation it is rarely possible to be certain. This one keeps its purpose to itself.