It left behind little more than a cartographic ghost, a ring drawn on the 1843 Ordnance Survey six-inch map with a gap opening to the east, measuring roughly seventeen metres in internal diameter. Enclosures of this kind, typically earthen or stone ringforts used in early medieval Ireland as farmsteads or livestock enclosures, are common enough across the Irish countryside, but this one managed to disappear entirely within little more than a century of being recorded.

The 1843 OS six-inch map, part of the first large-scale systematic survey of Ireland, captured the enclosure at Ballyedmonduff at a moment when agricultural improvement was already reshaping the Irish landscape at pace. The land here was improved pasture, the kind of ground that farmers worked hard to clear and level, and circular earthworks were frequently the casualty of such efforts. By the time Healy examined the site in 1975, documenting findings across pages one to nineteen of that study, the structure had already been removed. What the map recorded as a distinct feature with a clear eastern entrance had been absorbed back into the hillside, leaving the pasture unmarked. The work of compiling and revising the record was carried out by Geraldine Stout and Padraig Clancy, with a revised upload noted as recently as July 2018.

For anyone drawn to the area, Three Rock Mountain remains accessible from several points along the Dublin Mountains Way, and the southern slopes around Ballyedmonduff are walkable, if sometimes boggy underfoot. There is nothing to see of the enclosure itself; it is, by all accounts, gone. What remains is the landscape context, the rough sense of where a small enclosed settlement or farmstead once sat, looking south and catching whatever shelter the slope could offer. The value here is less in what survives than in what the map preserves, a reminder that the archaeological record of any given hillside is always more crowded than the ground currently suggests.