Taken alone, that might seem unremarkable. What makes it worth attention is where it begins: the stone line runs north-east to south-west for around fifty metres, starting from a fulacht fiadh, one of the burnt mound sites found in their thousands across Ireland, where prehistoric people heated water by dropping fire-cracked stones into troughs, most likely for cooking or bathing. The spatial relationship between the boundary and the mound is quiet but suggestive, a piece of landscape organisation that has been partially swallowed by bog and cut across by a later laneway.

The wall itself is not built in the way a drystone field boundary typically would be. Most of the stones are set with their long axes running across the line of the wall rather than along it, a construction method that points to some age and purpose we cannot now determine with certainty. Where the laneway interrupts the line, a second, shorter section continues on the southern side, running east to west for roughly twenty metres. Here the stones shift orientation, their long axes following the wall's direction, though they are not all set continuously against one another. Two short segments, two different laying conventions, both embedded in wet ground that has preserved them precisely because it is so inhospitable to later disturbance.