A south-facing slope in pasture, ordinary in every visible respect, yet recorded in the archaeological literature as the former location of a circular earthen mound roughly ten metres across. It is the kind of absence that tells its own quiet story.

The mound appears on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842, marked with hachures, the cartographic shorthand surveyors used to indicate raised or sloped ground, suggesting it was substantial enough at that point to be worth recording. By the time the revised six-inch map was produced in 1904, it had vanished from the sheet entirely. Local information fills in part of the gap: a small mound of stones was removed from the site at some point, the kind of gradual clearance that happened across rural Ireland as land was brought more fully into agricultural use. Whether the 1842 feature was a burial mound, a field monument of some other kind, or something more ambiguous, the notes do not say, and without excavation it is unlikely anyone could say with certainty.

What remains is a place known almost entirely through its own disappearance, surviving in the documentary record precisely because it no longer survives on the ground. The sixty-two years between the two maps contain the whole story, and even that story is mostly inference.