What makes it quietly odd is that it was almost certainly built in relatively recent times, not by early Christian monks or Iron Age farmers, but by someone who simply knew how to build this way and had good reason to do so.

The structure is corbelled, meaning the walls do not rely on a timber frame or mortar arch to form the roof. Instead, the stones are laid in gradually narrowing courses, each one projecting slightly inward over the one below, until they meet at the top and seal the space entirely. Here the walls rise vertically to 1.45 metres on the outside and 0.85 metres on the inside before the corbelling begins, with the whole thing reaching a height of 2.4 metres and spanning just 2.4 metres in diameter. The walls themselves are nearly a metre thick at 0.94 metres, which is part of what makes the corbelling work; the mass and weight of the stonework holds everything in compression. The interior would have been dim, dry, and remarkably sturdy. As an outbuilding, perhaps for storing tools or sheltering animals briefly, it would have done its job without any fuss.

The Dingle Peninsula has no shortage of ancient corbelled structures, the most famous being the clochán, a beehive-shaped stone hut associated with early monastic settlements, several of which survive nearby in various states of preservation. What is interesting about this example at Murorgán is the suggestion that the technique never fully died out locally, that someone in the modern era reached for the same solution their predecessors had used centuries earlier, probably because the materials were at hand and the knowledge had not yet been lost.