Stavanger Bay maybe I should cry for help

The tide was coming in, and so Dash was furiously digging one of his signature fish traps. Sand flew sky high as he worked to deepen the trench, spurred on by the trickles of water that breeched the edge of the ditch as the latest wave rushed in.

When the perfect wave hit, he would only have a pawful of seconds to snatch the fish out of the trap before the incoming tide destroyed the trench. It was precise work, but Dash was very practiced.