The rath here, a type of enclosed farmstead built during the early medieval period, typically between the fifth and twelfth centuries, is subcircular in plan, measuring roughly 24 metres north to south and just under 22 metres east to west. Its defining earthen bank is low and worn, standing no more than 0.9 metres at its highest and flattening almost to nothing on the western side. The interior has been dug out irregularly, to a maximum depth of about half a metre, which suggests at least some disturbance over the centuries. A long, low field clearance cairn and a lone bush sit along the outer edge of the eastern bank, the kind of quiet, incidental detail that often marks a spot people have been edging around and working beside for generations.

The rath appears on both the 1842 and 1915 editions of the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps, marked with hachures, the small radiating lines cartographers used to indicate earthworks or enclosures. By the time official heritage inventories were compiled in the 1990s, it was being catalogued simply as an enclosure, a cautious classification that reflects how much of its original character had already been lost. What makes the setting striking is not the rath itself but its neighbours. Within roughly 415 metres to the west and west-southwest lie two further raths, and positioned between all three, approximately 250 metres to the west-southwest, is the site of a disused graveyard. A medieval church and associated remains are located about 450 metres to the west-northwest. This kind of tight, overlapping arrangement, where ringforts, a burial ground, and a church occupy the same modest stretch of landscape, points to a community that returned to the same ground across several centuries, layering one use upon another.