One is barely two metres across, its tumbled wall still tracing a coherent ring, with scattered stones inside and spilling down the slope to the exterior. What makes the arrangement quietly arresting is the adjacency: the western arc of this hut abuts the eastern arc of a neighbouring structure, as though the two were built as a pair, or at least in deliberate awareness of one another.

Drystone hut sites of this kind, built without mortar from whatever stone lay to hand, appear across the uplands of Kerry and are notoriously difficult to date with precision. They could belong to the early medieval period, when transhumance, the seasonal movement of people and livestock to higher summer pastures, was common practice across Ireland, or they could be considerably older. The collapsed wall here, still standing to around forty centimetres in height and roughly sixty centimetres thick at its base, is modest even by the standards of these small shelters. The position is characteristic: high ground, a commanding view down the valley of the Owbaun River to the south-east, and the kind of exposed, wind-scoured terrain that was once productive grazing land even if it looks forbidding today.