A ring-ditch, roughly ten metres in diameter, shows itself not as any visible earthwork but as a cropmark, the faint differential in how plants grow above disturbed or compacted soil betraying the outline of a buried fosse, or ditch, that once encircled a small enclosure. It was an aerial photograph taken in July 1989, as part of the Cork Aerial Survey and Archaeological Project, that first caught the feature, along with what appears to be an entrance opening to the north-east.

Ring-ditches of this kind are typically the eroded remains of prehistoric burial or ceremonial enclosures, sometimes the last trace of a round barrow whose mound has long since been ploughed flat. What makes this particular site more interesting is its company. The ring-ditch sits in the same field as a second, larger circular enclosure and another ring-ditch, and the whole cluster lies within a relict field system, a fossilised network of boundaries whose agricultural logic has long since been abandoned. That grouping suggests a landscape with a deep and layered past, where different periods of activity left overlapping marks that only disappeared from view gradually, as centuries of farming did their quiet work of levelling.

Because the site survives only as a subsurface feature with no upstanding remains, there is nothing to see at ground level. Its interest lies less in what can be visited than in what it represents: a small but telling reminder that the fields of north Cork contain far more than is apparent to anyone walking through them.