There are no walls left, no earthen banks, no obvious structure to catch the eye. What remains is essentially a hollow, a wide shallow fosse, the term for a ditch that typically formed the outer boundary of a defended or ceremonial enclosure, tracing a rough circle across gently undulating pasture. It is the kind of feature that most walkers would step over without a second thought.

The enclosure was recorded on the third edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, published in 1930, which noted a subcircular form measuring approximately fifty metres across on a northwest to southeast axis. On the ground today, the surviving feature measures around forty-four metres east to west, defined by that fosse which, though shallow, runs to about five metres in width. The southern to northwestern arc is the best preserved section. At the north, a later field boundary cuts directly across the fosse, a routine act of agricultural reorganisation that has quietly obscured whatever continuity the earthwork once had. The enclosure has not been definitively dated, and without excavation it is difficult to say whether it originated as a ringfort, a enclosure of early medieval date used for farming or habitation, or something older or more ambiguous entirely.

What the site illustrates, modestly but clearly, is how much of the Irish archaeological landscape survives only in plan form, as slight depressions or cropmark outlines rather than visible monuments. The 1930 map notation suggests the enclosure was already reduced by that point, its edges worn down by centuries of grazing and cultivation. The field boundary cutting through it is a small but telling detail, a reminder that land was always being reorganised around these older shapes, sometimes in ignorance of them, sometimes in spite of them.