The monument measures roughly 34 metres north to south and 22 metres east to west, dimensions that place it comfortably within the range of early medieval enclosures, the kind that once defined a farmstead, a religious precinct, or a place of assembly. What makes it quietly odd is the way it sits within the hillside: the western side has been deliberately cut into the slope so that the interior ground level sits lower than the land immediately outside it, a detail that suggests considered, purposeful construction rather than a casual boundary.

The remains survive as a scarp, a low step in the ground where the earth was shaped and piled, running from the south-east around to the north-east, and a fosse on the same arc. A fosse is simply a ditch, dug to define or defend a perimeter, and here two of them can still be traced, though the one running from the south-west around to the north-east has almost disappeared, its depth now just five centimetres at the base. The more legible fosse to the north-east retains a width of over four metres at the top and reaches down about fifteen centimetres. None of this is dramatic in isolation, but taken together these earthworks describe an oval space that someone, at some point, went to considerable trouble to create and enclose. The interior is uneven and grass-covered, the undulations hinting at whatever structures or activity once occupied the ground within.