Where most field boundaries in the Irish landscape run in straight north-south or east-west lines, this one bends, tracing a shallow arc from south-west to north-east across the pasture slope. It is a small anomaly, easily missed, and that is partly what makes it worth attending to.

The wall itself has been reduced over time to little more than its footings, surviving at roughly 0.9 metres wide and only 0.2 metres high, with loose field stones heaped along its course. It was recorded on the 1916 Ordnance Survey six-inch map, where it appears intersecting a north-south boundary at its eastern end and meeting a straight westward-running boundary at its south-western end. About forty metres to the south-east, a second short arc of wall, sod-covered and similarly collapsed, mirrors the curve of the first. Taken together, the two arcs may once have defined a roughly D-shaped enclosure, somewhere in the region of seventy metres along its north-east to south-west axis and fifty metres across, with the straight eastern side provided by the north-south field wall that still stands. The walls appear to follow natural contours rather than impose a geometry on the land, which is what sets them apart from the rectilinear pattern of fields around them. Whether they predate that grid is uncertain; they may simply represent an earlier, now-superseded approach to dividing the same ground, and they are thought to be of relatively recent date rather than ancient origin.

The site sits in ordinary working pasture on the ridge slope, and the remains are slight. The footings are unspectacular up close, the kind of feature that rewards a patient eye rather than a dramatic first impression. What lingers is the quiet question the curve raises: why here, and why this shape, when everything around it runs straight.