Somewhere on the Curragh's gentle southward slope, half-buried in whins, a low earthen bank traces a rectangle roughly 51 metres east to west and 41 metres wide. It is not immediately obvious as anything ancient. The bank rises less than a metre above the interior, the outer ditch has almost entirely silted away, and the ground inside tilts unevenly from north to south. Yet tucked into the south-western corner of this enclosure lies the feature that gives the site its classification: a ring barrow, a type of prehistoric funerary monument in which a low circular mound or flat area is defined by a surrounding ditch and outer bank rather than piled earth alone. This one is modest even by those standards, a circular area only 5.3 metres across, its enclosing fosse shallow and its bank little more than a slight ridge in the grass.

Seán P. Ó Ríordáin described the site in 1950, noting an irregular interior sub-divided by banks whose plan was difficult to read because of the dense vegetation. His observations remain the primary record. The larger rectangular enclosure that contains the barrow may itself be a later addition rather than part of the original funerary arrangement, and a second ring barrow lies just 10 metres to the south. The western half of the monument has been disturbed, and three short runs of later field banks converge on the barrow from the south-east, south-west, and north-west, suggesting the site was absorbed piecemeal into later agricultural patterns. A 1970 aerial photograph complicated the picture further: it revealed up to thirteen small circular enclosures clustered in the immediate vicinity, averaging perhaps six to ten metres in diameter. Some are likely ring barrows or ring ditches, other forms of prehistoric earthwork; others are almost certainly lunging rings, the circular enclosures used for exercising horses, a reminder that the Curragh has been associated with equestrian activity for centuries and that not every earthwork in the landscape is prehistoric in origin.

The difficulty of reading this site is part of what makes it genuinely interesting. Gorse obscures the banks, later field boundaries cut across the monument, and the function of the surrounding enclosures remains ambiguous. What the aerial photograph captured in 1970 was a landscape in which ancient burial practice, agricultural reuse, and horse training have all left marks of roughly similar scale, overlapping in ways that resist easy separation.