It is modest almost to the point of invisibility: the walls have long since collapsed, leaving only a low spread of drystone roughly 0.6 metres thick and barely 0.3 metres high, tracing the outline of a room that measured just 3.7 metres along its longer axis and 2.1 metres across. Rushes now fill the interior, softening whatever impression of habitation once clung to the place.

What makes it quietly interesting is the care taken in its original construction. The hillslope here presented a practical problem, and whoever built the hut solved it with straightforward ingenuity: the south-west portion of the floor was built up slightly, raised around 0.2 metres, while the north-east portion was cut into the hillside to a depth of about 0.1 metres. The result was a roughly level living surface on ground that would otherwise have tilted awkwardly underfoot. Drystone construction, in which stones are laid without mortar and rely on their own weight and fit for stability, was common across upland Ireland for centuries, used for everything from field walls to small shelters and booley huts, the temporary summer dwellings occupied by those who moved cattle to higher pastures. Whether this particular structure served that seasonal function or some other purpose, the notes do not say, and the site itself offers no obvious clues.