The long shore drift shifts and sorts. It throws stone upon stone. They get gathered up the hands of the wave and are propelled up the sandy inclines of these shores. Gradually they move, first a zig then a zag. It is an unassuming, stealthy migration, an escape of sorts that is thwarted before it has really begun by these great barriers of wood and bolt.
Easy pickings for a pebble hunter like me. No need to chase my quarry. No complicated traps or silent crouched waiting.
I came home with my pockets stuffed and my bag a little heavier than when I arrived.