It is, in fact, a fulacht fia, one of the most common yet persistently mysterious monument types in the Irish landscape. The term refers to a prehistoric cooking site, typically Bronze Age in date, where stones were heated in a fire and then dropped into a water-filled trough to bring the water to a boil. The spent, shattered stones were raked out and piled to the side, and over centuries those discarded heaps of fire-cracked rock became the low, dark mounds that survive in their thousands across Ireland.

This particular example is oval in plan, measuring roughly 15.5 metres north to south and 24 metres east to west, and rising to about a metre in height, a decent size among its type. The mound sits immediately beside a well known as Toberatanahee, and that proximity is probably not accidental. Fulachtaí fia are almost invariably found near a reliable water source, whether a stream, a spring, or a well, since the whole enterprise depended on a ready supply. Whether the well carried its present name back into prehistory is impossible to say, but the pairing of an ancient cooking monument with a named holy well is a reminder of how different layers of use and meaning can accumulate around a single water source across millennia, one community's practical necessity quietly absorbed into another's sacred geography.