Its wall, built in the drystone technique of stone laid without mortar, has collapsed to a height of just thirty centimetres in places, yet it still protrudes above the surrounding bogland, giving the structure an oddly stubborn presence. The hut's interior diameter measures only 1.8 metres, which is small even by the standards of such shelters, barely enough space for one person to lie down. Heather-covered rubble spills downslope and along the perimeter, obscuring the lower courses of the wall and whatever floor surface might survive beneath.

A break in the wall on the northern side may mark where an entrance once stood, though the collapse of the surrounding stonework makes any firm reading difficult. What is perhaps most quietly compelling about the site is its context: roughly fifty metres to the north-east lies a second hut of similar type, suggesting this was not a solitary refuge but part of a small cluster of structures on this exposed hillside. Whether they were used for seasonal grazing, as shelter for those working the upland pasture, or for some other purpose entirely is not something the physical remains alone can answer. The rough hill pasture and boggy ground around both huts reflect the kind of marginal landscape that was nonetheless regularly worked and occupied across Kerry for centuries.