The six-inch maps of 1842 and 1905 both passed it over in silence, which means a monument standing over two metres tall, and broad enough to cast a real shadow, simply went unrecorded in the official landscape for the better part of a century and a half of modern mapmaking. That kind of absence is its own curiosity.

The stone itself is subrectangular in plan and profile, measuring 2.1 metres in height and roughly 1.9 metres by 0.8 metres across, with its long axis oriented northwest to southeast. Standing stones of this type are prehistoric in origin, though their precise purposes remain debated; they have been associated with burial markers, territorial boundaries, astronomical alignments, and ritual landscapes, often without any single explanation fitting all cases. What distinguishes this one is less its form, which follows a familiar pattern in the Cork countryside, and more the fact that it evaded cartographic notice for so long. Whether that reflects its location within working farmland, its distance from obvious trackways, or simply the priorities of nineteenth-century surveyors is difficult to say. It stands in pasture still, a quietly solid presence in a field that the maps long pretended was otherwise unremarkable.