It measures just 3.2 metres north to south and 2.4 metres east to west, barely larger than a modest garden shed, and its drystone walls, built without mortar and now partially collapsed, stand only around 0.8 metres high. Rubble lies scattered both inside and outside the structure, and its south-east corner is set deliberately against an outcrop of natural rock, as though the builder had used the landscape itself as one of the walls.

Enclosures of this kind are a recurring and often frustratingly ambiguous feature of the Irish upland landscape. Drystone construction, in which stones are carefully stacked and interlocked without any binding material, was the default technique for field boundaries, animal pens, and small shelters across many centuries, and the form alone rarely points to a specific period or function. The use of a natural rock outcrop as a structural element suggests a pragmatic, opportunistic approach to building rather than any grand design. Whether the structure served as a pen for livestock, a temporary shelter, or something with a less obvious purpose, the physical evidence on its own does not say. What it does suggest is a working familiarity with this particular hollow on the hillside, a choice made by someone who knew the terrain well enough to find the spot worth enclosing at all.