The bog has done exactly that, cutting back far enough to expose two connected lines of stones: one running roughly east-north-east to west-south-west for about 38 metres, then turning and continuing south-east for around 34 metres. A third, separate line of stones lies approximately 37 metres to the north-west, running north-west to south-east. What emerges is the ghost of an organised landscape, a field system that predates the bog itself.

Blanket bog in Ireland typically began forming several thousand years ago, spreading gradually over land that had once been farmed or grazed. Where it has been cut for turf, or where drainage has caused it to shrink, the ground it swallowed can reappear. At Derryleigh, the exposure has been uneven. Along the south-eastern stretch of wall, the first 34 metres are broken and intermittent, but the next 22 metres shift in character: larger stones, standing around 0.75 metres high and spaced roughly half a metre apart. That change in scale and spacing suggests either a different phase of construction or a deliberate distinction between parts of the boundary. Some of the material appears to have been taken away and reused, with the wall likely robbed at some point to supply stone for field fences that can still be seen nearby. It is a common story in the Irish countryside, where older structures were dismantled not out of ignorance but out of practicality.

The walls themselves carry no date in the landscape; they simply sit where the bog has left them, tracing boundaries that once mattered to someone working this ground. The angles and dimensions suggest a considered layout rather than a casual scatter of stones, a reminder that organised land use in this part of Cork goes considerably further back than the field patterns that define it today.