Before archaeologists put a spade to it in 1948, it appeared as little more than a low mound with a broad, shallow ditch encircling it, the highest point of that mound sitting just 65 centimetres above the bottom of the ditch. Nobody knows precisely when it was built or by whom. The Ordnance Survey's historic maps never recorded it. It is simply a house, of indeterminate date, in a field.

The site was excavated in 1948 by Seán P. Ó Ríordáin and Máire MacDermott, whose findings were published the following year. They catalogued it as Ballingoola III, one of several related sites in the area, and noted that its general form resembled a hut previously recorded at Grange, though this example was larger, with an average diameter of around six metres. The entrance was visible even before digging began, indicated by the way the land's contours curved inward on the eastern side of the mound. Inside, the evidence became less tidy: the relationship between the entrance passage and the house interior was difficult to disentangle, and the excavators suspected the structure may have been elongated along an east-west axis rather than being roughly circular. The finds were sparse but suggestive. Two fragments of polished stone axes, both broken from the butt-ends, turned up in the north-east quadrant inside the inner ditch. One fragment was of shale, the other of a close-grained dark stone. A crudely chipped flint was also recovered. Polished stone axes are generally associated with Neolithic activity in Ireland, though the excavators stopped short of assigning a firm date to the structure itself. Twelve metres to the north-east, a second house of equally indeterminate date sits in the same pasture.

Anyone hoping to locate the site today faces a particular frustration: aerial imagery from both 2011 to 2013 and 2018 shows no visible trace of the excavated monument on the ground. The site lies five metres south of a land drain and roughly thirty metres east of a tributary of the Camoge River, placing it in ground that is likely waterlogged for much of the year. That wetness, combined with the decades elapsed since excavation, has left little for the eye to catch. What remains is less a visible monument than a coordinate on a map, a record in an archive, and a pair of broken axe heads in a catalogue.