It is not merely neglected or overgrown in the usual way; it is simply gone from view, sealed off by the kind of accidental monument that nature occasionally constructs without ceremony.

The well is named Tobar a'Chaipín, meaning roughly "the well of the little cap" in Irish, a name that hints at the kind of votive tradition once associated with such sites, where offerings including cloth caps or other small items were left in hope of a cure or a blessing. It was recorded under that name by Lee in 1932, which places it within a broader twentieth-century effort to document the holy wells of Cork before their customs and physical fabric disappeared altogether. What makes the site particularly layered is its immediate neighbour: a fulacht fiadh, the term for a prehistoric cooking site, typically identified by a mound of heat-shattered stone beside an ancient trough or pit that would have been filled with water and heated using fire-cracked rocks. The pairing of an ancient cooking monument with a water source is not entirely surprising, since fulachtaí fiadh are almost always found near water, but the proximity here does give the ground a certain accumulated weight, two separate phases of human activity converging in the same rough patch of uncultivated land.

Anyone hoping to visit should know that the well itself is, at least as last recorded, completely obscured by the fallen tree, and there is no indication that it has been cleared or restored in the years since.