That classification has since become uncertain, and the uncertainty is the interesting part.

The feature in question is a steep-sided natural hillock roughly forty metres in diameter, sitting on a spur of land that juts out over a sharply cut stream valley. Around its northern edge runs a berm, a flat shelf of ground about two and a half metres wide, which drops away into a scarp that merges with a fosse, essentially a ditch, around two metres across. A low external bank follows the northwest, south, and east sides. Taken together, these elements look, at a glance, like the defensive or boundary works of a ringfort. But the current thinking is more cautious: the enclosing features may have less to do with human settlement or defence and more to do with managing water on the hillock itself, the scarps and ditches functioning as drainage rather than demarcation. The hillock's natural topography, already pronounced and steep, would have made it an obvious candidate for misreading, particularly by surveyors working at map scale in the 1830s who were tasked with recording a landscape full of genuinely man-made earthworks that looked broadly similar from a distance. Whether the original cartographers were wrong, or whether drainage works were later added to an already-ancient enclosure, is not something the physical evidence currently resolves.