It measures roughly four metres by three, its wall footings surviving to no more than twenty centimetres in height, and there is no clear break in the stonework to indicate where the doorway once stood. That ambiguity is itself quietly telling: this is a structure that has subsided back into the ground so thoroughly that even its entrance has been swallowed up.

The building is a booley hut, a type of temporary seasonal shelter associated with the old Irish practice of booleying, known in Irish as buailteachas. This was a form of transhumance in which farming families would move their cattle to upland grazing pastures during the summer months, living in rough huts near the animals before returning to the lowlands in autumn. The practice was widespread across Ireland from medieval times well into the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, though it had largely died out by the time of the Famine. This particular example dates to after 1700, and its absence from the 1837 edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map suggests it had already fallen out of use, or at least out of notice, by the time those surveyors passed through. The hut was constructed against the eastern side of a field wall that is itself now a relic, a fragment of an agricultural landscape that has long since reverted to open mountain ground. The southern views from the site are open and wide; in every other direction, higher ground closes things in, which would have made the hollow both a practical shelter from wind and a naturally discreet location.

The site sits in undulating boggy terrain, and the wall footings are low enough that the ruin could easily be mistaken for a natural feature of the ground. What marks it out, once you are close enough, is the deliberate rectangular form pressed against the older field wall, a small geometry imposed on a landscape that has been slowly reclaiming it ever since.