It sits within the eastern quadrant of a ringfort, one of those circular earthwork enclosures built in early medieval Ireland, typically as a defended farmstead, and it measures roughly 7.9 metres from east-southeast to west-northwest by 3.6 metres across. A slight bank, barely half a metre high on either face and just a metre wide, traces its outline. That is more or less all that can be said with certainty, because the structure appears on neither the six-inch Ordnance Survey map of 1837 nor the revised twenty-five-inch edition of 1913, which means cartographic evidence offers no help in pinning it down. It is classified, cautiously, as a house of indeterminate date.

The location itself adds a layer of quiet puzzlement. The hillock sits with bog stretching away to the south and west, a landscape that would have made the slightly elevated ground genuinely useful, whether for visibility, drainage, or simple dryness underfoot. Ringforts were sometimes reoccupied or built upon in later centuries, long after their original construction period had passed, so the sunken hollow in this one's eastern quadrant could theoretically belong to almost any era. The absence of the feature from both the Victorian and the early twentieth-century Ordnance Survey maps does not necessarily mean it post-dates those surveys; earthworks of this kind could easily have been overlooked by mapmakers if they were already low and grass-grown. What the maps do rule out is any straightforward documentary trail. The structure remains unnamed, undated, and largely unexplained, a slight depression in a field that was once, almost certainly, the floor of something.