It measures roughly sixteen metres east to west, twelve metres north to south, and rises to about one and a half metres at its highest point. What makes it quietly remarkable is what it is made of: burnt stone and dark, heat-fractured material, the accumulated debris of a fulacht fia. These prehistoric cooking sites, found in their thousands across Ireland, typically operated by heating stones in a fire and dropping them into a water-filled trough to bring the water to a boil. The mound is the waste heap left behind, built up over repeated use until the cracked and spent stones were simply raked aside.

The site may be the same fulacht fiadh noted by a researcher named Broker in 1937, who recorded one on the farm of a man called Dan Dennehy in this area. That tentative connection is the closest thing to a human story the place currently offers, a brief mention in a mid-twentieth-century survey linking a Bronze Age cooking site to a named farmer and a particular field. What makes the location stranger still is that it does not stand alone. Two further possible fulachta fiadh have been identified in the same field, suggesting that this particular patch of ground, now quietly absorbed into agricultural land, was once a place of repeated and deliberate activity across a wide span of prehistoric time.