What makes it quietly arresting is not its size, which is modest, roughly 3.2 metres east to west and 3.5 metres north to south, but its details. Immediately to the west of the entrance, a single slab of stone has been deliberately set upright, standing 0.9 metres high and oriented on an east-west axis. It is not part of the wall. It is not incidental. Someone placed it there with intention, and that intention is now lost.

The hut itself is built from random field stones, some laid radially and others placed side by side, a technique that reflects practical construction rather than any particular architectural tradition. The walls survive to a maximum height of 0.7 metres, though the interior is largely filled with collapsed material. A porched entranceway, just over a metre long, extends from the north-facing entrance, a feature that suggests some concern with shelter or demarcation of threshold. To the west, a grassy track runs the full length of the valley, and roughly 18 metres from the hut, a curving field boundary, about 15 metres long and partially swallowed by peat, connects with that older route. The peat burial points to a landscape that was once more actively managed and then slowly abandoned, the bog creeping in over boundaries that people once maintained with some care. A tributary of the Cooleenlemane River runs about 30 metres to the east, placing the structure in a position that balances access to water with a degree of elevation above the valley floor.