It does not appear on the six-inch sheets from that year, which means it slipped past one of the most thorough recording exercises of the nineteenth century, quietly upright in its pasture while the surveyors moved on.

The stone itself is just under two metres tall and roughly subrectangular in plan, with its long axis running east-north-east to west-south-west. Packing stones, the smaller rocks used to wedge and stabilise a standing stone in its socket, are still visible at the base, a detail that gives a rare, direct glimpse of the original method of erection. What makes the immediate landscape particularly interesting is the company the stone keeps. Within ten metres to the west and roughly forty metres to the south lie two fulachta fiadh, a fulacht fiadh being a type of prehistoric cooking site, typically identified by a mound of fire-cracked stone and charcoal left behind after repeated use of a water trough heated with hot rocks. Their proximity to the standing stone is unlikely to be coincidental, though whether the features were contemporary or simply accumulated in the same favoured ground over generations is not something the landscape itself can answer. A second standing stone sits in the field immediately to the west, reinforcing the sense that this particular hillside was a place people returned to, marked, and arranged in ways that no longer fully declare their meaning.