The walls meander across an area roughly 240 metres by 200 metres, their lower courses half-swallowed by peat, the stones protruding just enough to trace the outlines of what was once a managed, divided landscape. What makes this place quietly arresting is not any single dramatic feature but the cumulative geometry of it: many of the stones are set upright and at right angles to the line of the wall, a construction technique that speaks to deliberate effort and some grasp of what would hold. The walls themselves, where they survive best, reach around 0.8 metres in height and about 0.6 metres thick, modest but purposeful dimensions for enclosing rough pasture.

Within this network of field boundaries sit two hut sites, the remains of small habitation platforms or shelters associated with whoever worked this ground. Drystone construction of this kind, fitted without mortar and reliant entirely on the careful selection and placement of stone, was the standard building method for agricultural enclosures across much of early medieval and prehistoric Ireland, and the boggy conditions that have partially buried the walls here have, ironically, also helped preserve them. The bog has crept up around the lower stonework rather than scattering it, leaving a ghostly but legible pattern across the hillside. Breaks occur throughout the walls, whether from later disturbance, stone robbing, or simple collapse over centuries is difficult to say without excavation.