What makes it quietly odd is the way it was built: not as a neat geometric field, but as an irregularly shaped area roughly a hundred metres along its longer axis, where whoever laid it out simply used what was already there. A large natural rock outcrop forms the south-eastern boundary, and a drystone wall, now largely collapsed to its lower courses, picks up where the rock leaves off, running around the remaining sides. Many of the stones in that wall are set upright, at right angles to its line, a detail that gives the structure a slightly formal character despite its ruinous state.

Drystone enclosures of this kind, which use a combination of natural outcrops and constructed walling to define a usable area, are a practical response to a landscape where good building stone is abundant but labour is precious. The Beara Peninsula, where Miskish Mountain sits, has no shortage of either rocky outcrops or ancient field systems, and enclosures like this one were likely used for managing livestock, protecting crops from grazing animals, or simply marking out a portion of the higher ground for seasonal use. The wall, at roughly half a metre high in its surviving sections and about eighty centimetres thick, would never have been an imposing barrier, but combined with the rock face it completes, it would have formed a serviceable boundary. About thirty metres to the south-west, a separate hut site has been recorded, suggesting that this part of the hillside was once a place of more sustained, if modest, human activity.