Around 1944, it was removed from the reclaimed pasture where it had sat for centuries and buried in the ground, its precise location now a matter of local memory rather than public record. What makes this particularly tantalising is that, according to local knowledge, the stone carried ogham markings. Ogham is an early medieval script, typically carved as a series of notches and strokes along the edge of a stone, and it represents one of the oldest surviving forms of written Irish. A marked stone buried in a field is, in its quiet way, a small archaeological loss.

The stone's history before its burial is itself a little puzzling. It does not appear on the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps of either 1842 or 1904, which suggests it was either overlooked by surveyors, already obscured, or perhaps not yet fully recognised for what it was. It stood to the north of a second possible standing stone on the same slope, the two forming what might have been a loose pairing in the landscape, though the nature of any relationship between them remains unclear. The absence of both from the historical maps, combined with the deliberate burial of one around the middle of the twentieth century, leaves a site that is less a visible monument than a question posed to the ground itself.