What makes this one quietly worth attention is not its scale but its persistence: absorbed into the working landscape over centuries, its outer bank partly swallowed into field fencing, it continues to hold its shape with a kind of low-key stubbornness.

The site is roughly thirty metres in diameter, saucer-shaped, and defined by a slight scarp, with an intervening fosse (a ditch, typically dug to throw up the bank material) running between the interior and the outer earthwork. That outer bank survives most clearly from the north-west around to the east-south-east, where it has been incorporated into the field boundary system, reaching an internal height of around 1.2 metres and an external height of 0.8 metres. To the south it reduces to a low rise in the field surface. The south-east quadrant of the interior tends to waterlog, and there is a plausible explanation for this: a writer named Bowman noted a spring well at the south end of the site in 1934, and the 1938 Ordnance Survey six-inch map depicts it in the fosse to the south. The association of ringforts with fresh water sources is not unusual; a reliable spring would have been a practical asset for any early farmstead, and in some cases such wells acquired later devotional significance. Here, the spring seems to have done nothing more dramatic than quietly saturate the corner of a field for the better part of a millennium.