At roughly half a metre high and just over half a metre thick where it survives best, it is not an imposing structure, but its persistence is the point. The wall extends some fifty metres upslope to the northeast before branching, sending one arm off to the northwest for about forty metres, another to the southeast for about sixty-five metres, with rubble scattered further downslope where the structure has gradually given way. These are the bones of an agricultural system, a relict field boundary of the kind that once organised land now given over almost entirely to bog and rough grazing.

What makes the site quietly compelling is its company. Immediately to the south of the initial stretch of wall sits one hut site, and another lies to the southwest, the two of them clustered around the field system as though the whole arrangement, walls and shelters together, formed a single coherent episode of settlement. A further stretch of relict field wall, roughly seventy metres long, is faintly visible to the south and west of the second hut site, suggesting the landscape here was once divided and worked with some deliberateness. Hut sites of this kind, the collapsed footings of small stone structures associated with seasonal or permanent habitation, are relatively common across the uplands of Kerry, but finding them embedded within a surviving field system gives a clearer sense of how people actually organised themselves on marginal ground. The curvilinear form of the wall is itself worth noting: rectilinear, grid-like field systems tend to be associated with later, more systematic land reorganisation, while curving boundaries often follow older patterns, adapted to the slope and to whatever was being enclosed or excluded.