It sits on the map, it carries a reference number, and it has a name rooted in Irish, "Coill Rua" suggesting a red or reddish wood, the kind of place-name that tends to carry its own quiet history. Yet what lies within it, who was buried there, and across what span of time, remains undocumented in any accessible form.

Burial grounds of this kind are not unusual across Connacht. Some are early medieval in origin, associated with a local church or a holy well, used informally by communities over many generations. Others are children's burial grounds, known in Irish as cilliní, used historically for unbaptised infants who were excluded from consecrated ground. Still others mark the sites of long-vanished settlements, their headstones, if they ever had any, long since fallen or removed. Without more specific documentation for this site, it is not possible to say which category it belongs to, or whether it belongs to any of them neatly. That ambiguity is itself part of what makes such places worth knowing about. Galway's landscape is scattered with burial sites that passed out of active use centuries ago and now survive only as slight rises in a field, a cluster of stones, or a name on a map that somebody thought to write down.