They are easy to miss, and that is rather the point. The walls have collapsed almost entirely, surviving only as intermittent protrusions of stone through the peaty ground, their original lines traceable across a roughly rectangular area of around 140 metres by 70 metres. Some stretches run straight; others curve slightly, suggesting the boundaries were adapted to the contours of the ground or perhaps to earlier, less formal arrangements of land.

What survives at ground level is essentially the lowest course of each wall, and even that is incomplete. The larger stones that remain in these lower courses hint at what the walls once looked like: a typical dry-stone construction in which bigger stones formed the base and smaller material filled and topped the structure above. Those smaller stones are gone now, and the most probable explanation is a practical one. At some point, people building the enclosed hill fields that still exist to the north-west of this site needed material, and the abandoned boundaries here offered a ready supply. It is a pattern repeated across Ireland wherever one generation's obsolete enclosure became the next generation's quarry. The result is a landscape that has been quietly cannibalised of its own fabric, leaving only what was too heavy or inconvenient to carry away.