It is a fulacht fia, a type of site found throughout Ireland, generally interpreted as a Bronze Age cooking place where stones were heated in a fire and then dropped into a water-filled trough to bring it to the boil. Over repeated use, those fire-cracked stones were discarded into a mound around the trough, and it is precisely that accumulated debris, burnt and broken, that survives as the visible earthwork today. This one measures 18.3 metres long, 13 metres wide, and still stands 1.3 metres high, which makes it a substantial example of its kind.

What gives this particular site an added layer of interest is its relationship with the land around it. A holy well sits at the end of the mound's southeastern arm, the two features so closely positioned that they seem almost to lean against one another across the centuries. Holy wells in Ireland are typically associated with early Christian or pre-Christian veneration, and their frequent proximity to prehistoric monuments raises questions that are rarely easy to answer. Whether the well drew people to this spot long after the fulacht fell out of use, or whether something about the location, perhaps a reliable spring, attracted human activity across multiple periods, is not something the physical remains can settle. Four hawthorn trees now grow on the mound itself, hawthorn being a species long associated in Irish tradition with sacred or liminal ground, which adds a quiet resonance to an already layered site.

The mound lies in pasture, so the ground underfoot is likely to be uneven and soft in wet weather. The northeast-facing opening gives the clearest sense of the original form, and the point where the southeastern arm meets the holy well is worth finding for the simple strangeness of that juxtaposition, a Bronze Age cooking mound and a sacred water source sharing the same corner of a field.