By the time anyone went looking for it in person, it had vanished entirely, leaving behind only a low natural mound and the paper trail of successive Ordnance Survey editions.

The earliest cartographic trace appears on the 1838 six-inch Ordnance Survey map, which shows the triangular plantation sitting just east of a north-south roadway. By the time surveyors revisited the area between 1912 and 1916 for the more detailed 1:2500 plan, the enclosing wall had taken on a subcircular form, curving from the north-northwest around through the east and down to the south, with hachures, the short lines mapmakers use to indicate a slope or raised ground, depicted along the outer face from the northeast to the south. Something of an earthwork shape, in other words, had accumulated around what had begun as a simple walled plantation. The 1946 to 1947 revision told a starker story: the trees were gone, and only the hachure line remained on the map. When the site was inspected on the ground in April 1983, there was nothing to indicate anything had ever been deliberately placed there. The mound beneath was entirely natural and carried no archaeological significance.

What makes this small episode curious is how fully a designed landscape feature, something planted and walled with evident intention during the nineteenth century, can dissolve back into the countryside within little more than a hundred years. Ornamental tree plantations of this kind were a common enough gesture on Irish estates and farms, sometimes purely decorative, sometimes used as windbreaks or to signal the edge of a demesne. Whatever purpose this one served at Somerset, the maps are now its only record.