They call it a ceallúnach, a term used in Irish for a small, unconsecrated burial ground, often associated with the graves of unbaptised infants or with early ecclesiastical enclosures whose exact status has been forgotten over time. The name alone suggests a long, quiet history that official cartography simply chose not to record.

What survives on the ground is partial but legible. A modern north-to-south field boundary bisects the site, and whatever once lay to its west has been lost entirely. To the east of that boundary, a drystone-faced enclosing bank, built with facing stones on both its inner and outer sides, runs in an arc. It averages about 1.3 metres wide and survives to an external height of roughly half a metre, its internal diameter measuring 16.5 metres north to south. Within that enclosed space lies something more arresting: a carefully arranged area, twelve metres by seven, containing neat rows of upright slabs set into the ground. These are not scattered or tumbled; they are deliberate, ordered. Immediately to the west of the slab area, a low L-shaped bank about 6.4 metres long may represent the surviving foundation lines of a small building, though the structure itself is long gone.

The combination of an enclosing bank, organised grave markers, and possible building foundations is consistent with an early medieval ecclesiastical site, a type found across the Iveragh Peninsula, where small oratories or anchorite cells were sometimes set within a circular enclosure. Whether this particular site functioned as a burial ground, a hermitage, or something in between, the rows of upright slabs are the detail that stays with you, a quiet geometry still holding its shape in a field that has otherwise moved on.