The one at the centre of this grouping is barely legible in the landscape now, an oval outline measuring just four metres from north to south and under one and a half metres across, its drystone walls long since collapsed into a low, irregular mound. Drystone construction, which uses no mortar and relies entirely on the careful arrangement of stones, was the standard building method for such structures across early Ireland, and here the larger stones of the lower courses still protrude above the surface of the encroaching bog, hinting at the shape of what once stood. A narrow east-facing entrance, just 0.6 metres wide, can be made out, though the interior is largely obscured by rubble.

What makes this particular spot quietly compelling is not any single structure but the proximity of the three. A second hut site lies roughly 25 metres to the north, and a third sits only about 6 metres to the south, near enough that the inhabitants would have been immediate neighbours. Together they point to a moment when this bleak hillside above the lake was, in some modest and practical sense, occupied. The structures themselves preserve no dateable material in the available record, so they sit in that frustrating but honest category of early Irish field monuments: present, measurable, but still largely anonymous as to their age and the lives conducted within them.