It is not a grand monument. It does not announce itself. What makes it quietly arresting is precisely the uncertainty surrounding it, the sense that it sits somewhere between natural accident and deliberate human arrangement, and that this question has never been satisfactorily resolved.

When the archaeologist O'Kelly recorded the site in 1942 to 1943, the description was notably cautious. The structure, O'Kelly noted, was "a very doubtful site" that "may be a very devolved megalith," meaning a monument of the megalithic tradition, those prehistoric constructions using large stones, that has either degraded significantly or was always a simplified version of a grander form. The boulder itself is limestone, measuring roughly 2.4 metres north to south and 1.7 metres east to west, with its highest point reaching about 1.2 metres above the ground. Beneath its centre, a number of considerably smaller stones provide support, though O'Kelly was careful to observe that these had not been placed with any particular care or arrangement. That detail matters. Deliberate placement of supporting stones is usually one of the clearest signs of human intent in such structures, and the absence of it here is precisely why the site remains contested.

The boulder is still visible on Digital Globe aerial photographs, which gives some confidence that it survives in the landscape, though visiting it requires a degree of tolerance for ambiguity. There are no interpretive panels, no car park, no formal access. Anyone making their way to Cahirguillamore should expect a site that rewards patient looking rather than easy reading. The question worth carrying with you is a simple one: is the arrangement of those small stones beneath the boulder the result of deliberate prehistoric action, or simply the way a large stone happened to settle? After more than eighty years, the answer remains open.