Sometime around 1968, the stone was removed from its original position on a north-east-facing slope of pasture land and buried in the ground nearby. What had once been a vertical presence in the landscape became, effectively, invisible, interred somewhere beneath the same field it had occupied for an unknown number of centuries.

What makes the absence stranger still is that the stone had already gone unrecorded through much of the modern era. The Ordnance Survey's six-inch maps of 1835 and 1905, which together provide one of the most detailed documentary records of Irish rural topography across the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, make no mention of it. Whether it was overlooked by surveyors, considered unremarkable, or simply obscured by vegetation or field conditions at the time of mapping is impossible to say now. Standing stones are among the most enigmatic features of the Irish countryside, single upright slabs whose original purposes, whether ceremonial, territorial, commemorative, or astronomical, are rarely recoverable with certainty. This one never made it onto the official record while it was upright, and was removed before it could attract wider attention.

The stone now lies buried somewhere in the vicinity of where it once stood, on that north-east-facing slope in north Cork. There is nothing to see at ground level, and no marker indicating where it went down.