The classic form consists of a horseshoe-shaped mound of fire-cracked stones, the discarded residue of a process in which heated stones were dropped into a water-filled trough to bring it to boiling point. What makes this particular example quietly interesting is precisely its invisibility: there is no mound to see, no earthwork to photograph, no obvious reason to stop. The site exists almost entirely as a cartographic memory.

A 1937 Ordnance Survey six-inch map recorded it as a mound, which means the feature was still legible in the landscape at that point, if only just. By the time researchers came to document it more formally, that surface trace had vanished entirely, absorbed into the surrounding farmland. The site may be one of two fulachta fiadh noted by a researcher named Bowman in 1934, recorded on land then belonging to an O. Moynihan. A closely related site lies roughly 110 metres to the south-west, which raises the possibility that this small area of north Cork was used repeatedly or across different periods for the same purpose, whether that was cooking, processing hides, or some other activity that archaeologists still debate. The pairing of fulachta fiadh at short distances from one another is not unusual in the Irish record, and it hints at a landscape that was far more organised and frequently used in prehistory than its current pastoral quietness would suggest.