It appears with the quiet confidence of something that was once meant to be seen, positioned near the entrance to a country house demesne in what was then open pasture. Today, that same spot is consumed by dense scrub, and when surveyors went looking for standing remains, they found nothing. The turret has, in every practical sense, vanished, leaving only its cartographic ghost and a reasonable hypothesis about what it once was.

The structure is believed to have been an eyecatcher, a category of folly designed not for occupation but for visual effect, placed in the landscape specifically to catch the eye from a distance and lend a sense of romantic or Gothic incident to an otherwise ordinary view. Such features were fashionable additions to designed landscapes of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, when landowners with means and aesthetic ambition arranged their grounds as much for theatre as for agriculture. The nearby Tower Hill country house was built in 1800, according to Spellissy's 1989 account, and the turret's prominent position close to the demesne entrance fits neatly with the conventions of that period. A structure visible to anyone arriving at the estate would have announced, without a word, that the owner was a person of cultivated taste.

The site sits immediately east of a disused quarry on gently rolling ground in the townland of Tuogh, in the old barony of Owneybeg. Anyone hoping to locate what remains, which is to say the landscape context rather than any masonry, should expect rough going through overgrown scrub with no guarantee of reward. The 1840 OS map is really the most vivid record available now. What is worth looking for, if you have access to early cartographic sources, is how deliberately the turret was sited, close to a threshold, on a rise, facing the approach. Even as an absence, it says something about how much effort once went into making an entrance feel like an occasion.