What makes this particular example quietly melancholy is the degree to which it has been dismantled, absorbed, and repurposed by the working landscape around it, to the point where its original form survives more in fragments than in any coherent whole.

When Bowman recorded the site in 1934, he described a single-ramparted fort of around 65 yards in diameter on land belonging to a C. O'Reilly. Even then, two-thirds of the rampart had already been levelled, with the remainder, still standing roughly six feet high, pressed into service as a field boundary. That process of quiet erasure continued. By the time more recent survey work was carried out, the monument had been reduced to a roughly circular raised area measuring around 34 metres north to south, its defining bank surviving only as a low scarp with a shallow ditch, less than a quarter of a metre deep in places, running from the north-east around to the south-south-east. The western arc is described as very slight and much interfered with. A modern drainage channel bisects the interior, and a flat-bottomed pit cut into the eastern section revealed charcoal at depth, a detail suggestive of past human activity, though without further analysis it is impossible to say more. The 1842 Ordnance Survey six-inch map had already captured the site in reduced form, showing it as a small irregular field of around 45 metres in each direction rather than a clearly defined earthwork. Locally, despite all of this, it is still called the fort.