It sits quietly beneath long grass, its outline softened by time, with large stones visible only if you look carefully enough. It measures roughly ten metres across and barely reaches a metre in height, yet it almost certainly marks the resting place of the dead, placed here deliberately, centuries or possibly millennia ago, to command a view of the surrounding landscape.

The mound is recorded as a probable barrow, the general term for a prehistoric burial monument constructed from earth or stone, sometimes covering a chamber, sometimes simply a cairn raised over remains. It has a flat top and a circular plan, and crucially, no outer fosse, the encircling ditch that frequently accompanies such earthworks. That absence makes precise classification difficult. The record, compiled by Geraldine Stout and updated by Christine Baker, draws on fieldwork by Healy from 1975, which noted the mound's dimensions and its survival into the modern era. Beyond those measurements, the site has not given up much. Whatever lies beneath the grass and stone remains undisturbed and, for now, undocumented in any detail.

A hawthorn tree to the south of the mound serves as the most reliable marker on the ground, the kind of tree that has long been associated in Irish tradition with boundary and significance, and which here does practical work as a navigational aid. The site sits on elevated ground with extensive views in multiple directions, which may itself be part of the original logic of its placement, since barrows are frequently positioned to be seen, or to see from. Visitors approaching the hilltop should expect rough ground and long grass; the stones visible at the surface are worth noting, but the mound's subtlety means patience is required before the shape of it registers properly underfoot and in the eye.