Two courses of drystone walling still push up through the surface of the bog, tracing a subcircular outline roughly eight metres across. The enclosure is small, the kind of space that would have held a handful of animals or defined a modest working area, and the bog has done its slow work of consuming it over however many centuries it has been left to settle.

What gives the structure a certain quiet interest is the way its builders worked with rather than against the terrain. Along the northern arc of the wall, a natural rock outcrop has been incorporated directly into the fabric of the construction, saving labour and anchoring the structure to the hillside. The interior is level despite the slope, which suggests some deliberate preparation of the ground. The drystone technique, in which stones are laid without mortar and rely on careful placement for their stability, was common across Irish upland farming for centuries, and enclosures of this kind appear throughout Kerry wherever communities pushed their agriculture up onto rougher ground. The collapsed state of the wall, now only about three quarters of a metre high at its tallest, and the bog slowly reclaiming the interior, point to long abandonment, though the precise date of construction is not recorded.