Classified tentatively as a house of indeterminate date, it is the kind of structure that resists easy labelling, its origins somewhere in the long and poorly documented stretch of time between prehistory and the post-medieval period. What makes it quietly arresting is not its scale but its persistence: a slightly raised circular platform, roughly 5.5 metres north to south and 5.8 metres east to west, edged by a kerb of close-set, occasionally touching limestone boulders between 0.4 and 0.7 metres high. The stones are irregular in size and shape, gathered from a landscape that is already strewn with limestone, making it difficult at a glance to separate the deliberate from the incidental.

The ridge itself is oriented northwest to southeast, with a steep drop to the southeast and a more gradual slope toward the northeast, opening out to extensive views in both directions east to west. Twenty-five metres to the south, on the same ridge top, sit two further monuments: an enclosure and a children's burial ground, the latter known in Irish tradition as a cillín, a place set apart from consecrated ground where unbaptised infants were interred. The clustering of these three features along a single elevated spine of land suggests the ridge held significance across more than one period and more than one kind of human activity. Perhaps most telling is a small detail in the modern field boundary: the fence running immediately to the south-southeast contains a kink, a slight deviation in its line that appears to follow the curve of the monument's kerb. Someone, at some point in the more recent past, chose to work around this ring of stones rather than through it.