The stone itself is gone, or at least invisible; there is no surface trace of it remaining. What survives instead is a cartographic ghost, a small annotation on a map made between 1716 and 1717.

The map in question was produced by a surveyor named Bateman, and at the precise point where the Cork and Waterford county boundary changes direction, he marked the word "stone". It is a plain, practical note, the kind a surveyor would make when recording a physical feature used to fix a jurisdictional line. Boundary stones of this type were set to prevent disputes between parishes, estates, or counties, and their placement was often a deliberate legal act rather than a casual one. The Bateman survey dates to the early eighteenth century, a period when the systematic mapping of Irish land was closely tied to questions of ownership, taxation, and administrative control following the upheavals of the preceding decades. That a single stone could anchor the turning point of a county line says something about how precisely these boundaries were managed and recorded, even if the stone itself has long since vanished below the surface, been removed, or simply worn away.