Not dramatically collapsed or deliberately cleared, but simply absorbed into the ordinary domestic landscape to the point where nothing whatsoever is visible at ground level. The site is officially classified, mapped, and recorded. It is also, to all appearances, gone.

What survives is the paper trail. Ordnance Survey workers passing through in the 1830s noted a small enclosure with a mound at its centre. By 1944, when the site was recorded again, that mound had been described more precisely as a small flat-topped platform, roughly seven metres east to west and six metres north to south across its top, with a base diameter of around ten metres and a height of approximately one metre. Those are modest but not insignificant dimensions, roughly the scale of a large room raised slightly above the surrounding ground. What exactly the mound originally was remains unresolved. Flat-topped raised platforms of this kind are sometimes associated with early medieval activity, though without excavation the function here is simply unknown. The undulating landscape around Fenagh Beg, with its rock outcrops pushing through the surface, is the sort of terrain where ancient earthworks can survive in unexpected corners, or disappear entirely when land is levelled and built upon.

Between the 1944 description and the present, whatever earthwork remained was lost to view. The county inventory compiled by Michael J. Moore and published in 2003 confirms that no archaeological feature is now visible. The site endures on record as a monument without a monument, a place whose significance rests almost entirely on what two sets of observers wrote down, decades apart, before the evidence itself vanished into someone's front garden.