Not a hill, not a natural ridge, but a shaped thing, roughly 25 metres north to south and 35 metres east to west, defined by a scarped edge that still stands around a metre high in places. Outside that scarp, a shallow, waterlogged fosse, a ditch dug to reinforce the enclosure's boundary, runs from the north-west around to the north-east. It is the kind of site that rewards patience rather than first glances.

Enclosures of this type are relatively common across the Irish midlands and west, though their precise origins and functions vary considerably. Some are early medieval in character, associated with farmsteads or minor settlements; others may have served as stock enclosures or had a more ceremonial purpose. This particular example, recorded by archaeologist Denis Power and uploaded to the national record in August 2011, carries the traces of long subsequent use alongside whatever its original purpose was. Heaps of earth and stone, likely domestic rubbish over time, have been dumped along the inner edge of the scarp on the south-east and north-west arcs. The scarp itself has been absorbed into the local field boundary system, and a shallow field drain has been cut along its base, meaning the enclosure's edges now do double duty as both ancient monument and working agricultural feature. The entrance, around six metres wide, faces east.

Accessing the site means crossing wet, rough pasture, so appropriate footwear matters considerably, particularly after any sustained rainfall. The fosse that runs along the outer edge is heavily masked by vegetation and easy to miss or misjudge underfoot. Once inside the enclosure, the interior slopes gently downward toward the east, which, combined with the marshy ground conditions, means the lower end holds water readily. The earthwork is most legible in late winter or early spring, before vegetation thickens and when low-angle light picks out the scarp's profile more clearly against the surrounding flat ground. The dumped material along the inner edge is visible as irregular undulations rather than any obvious feature, and the field drain cutting through the base of the scarp is a reminder of how thoroughly these ancient boundaries become woven into the rhythms of later land use.