That absence is itself the curious thing. A field inspection carried out in 1995 confirmed that no surface remains of the structure survive, leaving only a name on old cartographic paper and a cluster of carefully hedged probabilities.

The story begins with the Down Survey, the remarkable mid-seventeenth-century mapping project that documented land ownership across Ireland in the aftermath of the Cromwellian settlement. A watermill was recorded on those maps at a location near the junction of a river with the townland boundary of Kilcommon. When the first edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map was produced in 1838, the same spot was labelled simply as "Old Flour Mill", suggesting the structure was already regarded as belonging to an earlier era. By the time the second edition was revised and published in 1903, the label had shifted again to "Flour Mill (Disused)", a small typographic signal that the building, or at least some remnant of it, may still have been visible at that point, even if no longer functioning. Whether the mill marked on the Down Survey and the one recorded by the Ordnance Survey were the same structure is not certain. The cartographic alignment is suggestive rather than definitive, and researchers have been careful not to overstate the connection.

What remains, then, is a layered absence: a seventeenth-century mill that may or may not underlie a nineteenth-century one, both of them now gone without trace from the ground. The site sits at a townland boundary beside a river, the kind of location millers historically favoured for access to flowing water, but there is nothing for a visitor to find there beyond the landscape itself and the knowledge of what the maps once claimed.