The well does not appear on either edition of the Ordnance Survey maps, which is itself quietly telling; it was known and used within living memory, its water drawn in gallons by local families, yet it left no official cartographic trace.

The well sits on a south-facing slope in a field of pasture. It is modest in scale, roughly a metre across and about sixty centimetres deep, fed by a natural spring that bubbles continuously to the surface, with a drain running away to the south-west. According to local tradition recorded by O'Hare in 2000, the well at one time supplied the water needs of four houses in the area, and later two. Rounds were said to have been made there, a devotional practice common to holy wells across Ireland in which a pilgrim walks a set circuit, often a fixed number of times, reciting prayers at specific points. The curative rituals here were equally structured: water carried away in a bottle could seek a cure for a sick person, but if that person died, a relative was obliged to return the bottle to the well and break it there. The white trout is a recurring figure in Irish well-lore, typically understood as a guardian presence, not to be disturbed or displaced. The schoolchild's account, collected through Knockaderry School and preserved in the Schools' Collection, captures that logic precisely: the priest Father J. K. Fitzgerald, on hearing that the trout had arrived in the kettle, did not express surprise. He simply told the woman to put the water and the fish back.