It is around twenty metres across, its wall still standing to roughly 1.2 metres, and it has the kind of quiet, purposeful geometry that tends to attract archaeological interest. That interest, when it arrived in 1997, produced a somewhat deflating verdict: there was no evidence of stone facing or of spread from an earlier wall, and the whole thing is probably no older than the nineteenth century.

The enclosure had been formally listed as a heritage feature in both the Sites and Monuments Record in 1992 and the Record of Monuments and Places in 1996, classifications that reflect its appearance rather than any confirmed antiquity. A high-altitude aerial photograph had made it visible enough to register. But closer inspection found no trace of the construction techniques associated with prehistoric or early medieval enclosures, where inner and outer stone faces would typically contain a rubble core, or where centuries of collapse would leave a characteristic spread of stone around the base. Instead, the gable end of a nineteenth-century house sits just to the north-west, and the enclosure wall shares its character closely enough to suggest a common date and perhaps a common builder. Drystone enclosures of this kind were practical, everyday structures, used to contain livestock or protect a kitchen garden from grazing animals, built by farming families from whatever stone lay underfoot, and the Burren's limestone pavement offered plenty of that.