They exist, in a practical sense, only from the air. One is a simple circular enclosure; the other is bivallate, meaning it was originally defined by two concentric banks or ditches rather than one, a form often associated with higher-status or more formally bounded settlements in early medieval Ireland. Both have been swallowed so completely by the boggy terrain that they leave no trace whatsoever at ground level.

The simpler of the two enclosures was recorded as far back as the 1843 edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, which suggests its outline was at least partially legible to the surveyors who walked this landscape in the early nineteenth century. By 1970, both enclosures were captured in aerial photographs, their circular forms revealed by the subtle way waterlogged soil retains and releases moisture differently where ancient earthworks once disturbed the ground. That differential, invisible to someone standing beside it, becomes readable from altitude as a crop or parch mark, a ghostly echo pressed into the earth. The boggy conditions that now obscure the sites entirely are, in a quiet irony, probably the same conditions that preserved whatever lies beneath from more thorough destruction.