Stavanger Bay maybe I should cry for help

Dash was putting the finishing touches on his trap when the tide came rushing over the edge, pouring into the trench. The man's trained eye picked out the thrashing movements of the trapped fish almost before Dash's brain could even catch up. He darted left and right, grabbing up fish and tossing them out of the trap, up toward the dunes. They would lay there flopping in the powdery sand until Dash was able to emerge from the trench to gather them up.

From outside of the trap, it would look like fish were leaping out of the surf and onto the dunes.