It measures roughly 16.6 metres across and rises to 3.7 metres in height, its base faced with a low stone wall and its summit crowded with beech trees and undergrowth. Fragments of brick and slate near the top hint at a small structure that once stood there, long since collapsed or dismantled. A short stone causeway, topped with a flagstone, still crosses the moat at the southeast side, the only obvious way in.

This is not a medieval fortification, nor the remains of a crannog, the artificial island-dwellings associated with early Irish settlement on lakes. It is classified as a designed landscape feature, which places it firmly in the tradition of eighteenth and nineteenth century estate ornamental grounds, where landowners across Ireland and Britain constructed artificial mounds, islands, grottoes, and follies to create a sense of drama, antiquity, or picturesque geometry in their parklands. The moat here was fed by a deliberately diverted stream, which is itself a significant piece of engineering for what amounted to a decorative flourish. The feature does not appear on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842, which may suggest it was constructed after that date, or simply that the surveyors did not consider it worth recording. Either way, its origins remain undocumented.

The moat has partially silted up over time, and the whole structure is well on its way to being reclaimed by the woodland around it. The beech trees planted on the mound are now mature, their roots presumably doing considerable work to the stone facing beneath. What was once a carefully contrived piece of estate scenery has become something stranger and more accidental, the sort of thing that rewards a slow walk through wet ground and a willingness to look carefully at what the undergrowth is hiding.