The stone measures roughly 2.2 metres east to west and 1.9 metres north to south, and towards its south-east corner it holds a deep natural hollow, half a metre across and just over half a metre deep. That hollow is the point of the whole thing. Pilgrims would stop at this boulder, stoop forward, and rub their heads three times around the bowl, each time invoking the Holy Trinity. The stone was considered a reliable cure for headache.

The boulder is a bullaun stone, a term for a rock with one or more cup-shaped depressions that are frequently found near early Christian sites in Ireland and were long associated with healing, cursing, or ritual rounds. This one sits about 45 metres outside the south-west bank of an early ecclesiastical enclosure at Tullylease, and it formed one station in a pattern of devotional rounds performed on the feast of St Berechert, the 18th of February. Grove White, writing between 1905 and 1925, recorded its name as Cloc na Eild, meaning "the hind's stone", and noted that the circuit also included St Ben's well, Our Lady's well, and a cross-slab stone nearby. Lynch, writing in 1911, recorded an alternative Irish form, Cloc Fiadh, and preserved a cluster of local traditions around the stone: that St Benjamin used it to baptise his pagan neighbours, and that during the building of the adjacent abbey, a milk-white hind would appear before sunrise and fill the hollow with enough milk to feed the builders for the day. The hind's visits ended when a curious workman hid himself to watch; upon being seen, the animal kicked a hole in the stone so that the milk drained away and never returned.

The detail of that kicked hole is worth pausing on. The deep natural hollow that draws pilgrims today is explained, in local tradition, not as a geological feature but as the consequence of a broken covenant between the human world and something wilder. The same hollow that held miraculous milk became the bowl that healers pressed their heads against, the place where St Benjamin administered baptism, and the station where people walked their rounds in February cold. Several centuries of layered meaning have settled into a half-metre dip in an otherwise unremarkable piece of limestone.