The structure is a cashel, a type of ringfort built from dry-stone walling rather than earthen banks, and despite centuries of collapse and clearance it still holds its near-circular form, measuring roughly twenty metres across internally. What makes it quietly odd is how thoroughly the ground itself has absorbed it. The defining wall has fallen and spread into a low, grassed-over rubble band, roughly two metres wide, and the interior sits about a metre higher than the surrounding field, an elevation that hints at how substantial the original construction once was.

The outer wall-facing survives in fragments on the western and north-western arc, but the inner face has gone entirely, lost to time and to what the rubble piles along the perimeter suggest were earlier attempts at field clearance. The site appears on the Ordnance Survey twenty-five inch plan of 1897 and was still being recorded on the six-inch edition of 1920, which places it within a well-documented agricultural landscape rather than any sense of isolation. It sits inside a relict field system, the remnants of boundaries that predate the modern land divisions, and that relict system is itself part of a larger multiperiod field complex, meaning the land here has been managed, divided, and reworked across a very long span of human activity. An overgrown field wall pressing against the cashel at the south-west is a small physical reminder of how later farming repeatedly ran up against and around these older structures. A second cashel lies roughly eighty-six metres to the south-east, close enough to suggest that whoever built and used these enclosures shared or divided this stretch of limestone country between them.