Walk the field today and you would find nothing, no earthwork, no ridge, no visible trace. Yet overhead, in aerial photography taken in August 1996, a roughly circular cropmark betrays exactly where it once stood, the buried outline of a former boundary showing through the soil in the differential growth of crops above it.

The enclosure was circular, roughly 45 metres in diameter, with a fosse, essentially a wide defensive or boundary ditch, running from the south-east around the south and south-west, measuring about 10 metres in width. Field boundaries once followed its northern and eastern edges, suggesting the monument had been folded into the agricultural landscape at some point rather than simply abandoned. The second edition Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1905 still recorded it clearly enough to be mapped, which means it survived at least into the early twentieth century as a legible feature on the ground. By 1975, when Cahill recorded it, the enclosure had already been levelled, ploughed flat by farming activity at some point in the intervening decades. It does not stand alone in this landscape either; a ringfort lies roughly 90 metres to the north, and another enclosure sits about 140 metres to the south-east, suggesting this part of Tipperary was once a more densely organised and inhabited place than its current agricultural plainness implies.

There is nothing to see at ground level now, and the cropmark is only legible from the air under the right conditions of crop growth and dryness. What remains is essentially a cartographic and photographic record of something erased, a place that persists in archives rather than in the earth.