The roughly circular earthwork, measuring approximately 33 metres north to south and 30 metres east to west, sits on a gentle rise in undulating pastureland, but by 1998 its banks had been levelled so thoroughly that an on-site inspection found nothing visible at ground level. It took aerial photography, captured between 2013 and 2018, to reveal it again: a grass-covered scarp tracing the old perimeter, clearest along its southern arc, readable from the air in a way that it simply is not from your feet.

The enclosure had been recorded on the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps of both 1842 and 1920, marked with the hachuring that cartographers used to indicate earthen banks or raised features in the landscape. That it appears on both editions suggests it was still legible in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, even as the surrounding land was being used for very different purposes. By the mid-nineteenth century, a racecourse had been laid out nearby, its circuit running roughly east to west about 120 metres to the south of the enclosure. The older feature sat just inside the southern interior of that course, meaning that for a period, horses were likely thundering past a monument that may well predate the racecourse by a thousand years or more. The two land uses, ancient enclosure and Georgian-era sport, occupied the same patch of Clare countryside at the same time, apparently without much acknowledgement of the incongruity.