Nothing about it announces itself loudly. It is roughly eleven and a half metres across, its edge defined by a scarp barely twenty centimetres high, and across its centre runs an oblong, sod-covered stony rise that reaches no more than sixty-five centimetres at its tallest point. A single large slab protrudes from the turf near its southern end. It is the kind of feature that most walkers would step over without a second thought.

What makes this mound genuinely puzzling is its absence from the historical record. Neither the 1838 nor the 1917 Ordnance Survey six-inch maps, which together mapped Ireland's landscape in considerable detail across nearly a century, show any trace of it. That omission raises more questions than it answers. Was the mound already so low and grass-covered by the nineteenth century that surveyors overlooked it entirely, or does its origin post-date both surveys? The structure itself offers conflicting clues. The circular platform and the stony rise beneath the sod could point to something considerably older, perhaps a burial cairn or a platform monument, while a small stone feature at the southern end of the rise, roughly coursed and about a metre high, appears to be of modern construction. A graveyard extension lies just twelve metres to the west, which may or may not be coincidental. The single protruding slab near the base of that newer cairn adds a further layer of ambiguity: it could be a placed marker, a glacial erratic, or a fragment of something earlier disturbed and partially reburied.