If you've a shortage of rocks, I invite you to come haul them out of my garden. Please. Take all you want; there will still be plenty for my kiddos I'm sure.
On a serious note, the maddest I've ever seen my dad was when some bozos were rolling big rocks downhill...when we were hiking on switchbacks a couple hundred feet below them. When our shouts didn't stop them, he made tracks up that mountainside faster than a mountain goat could have, and I'm quite sure those people never rolled a rock down a hill again. My grandma once happened upon an accident and provided first aid to a kid about 14 miles from the nearest dirt road. He had been hit in the head by a rock rolled from above by another kid in his scout troop. He died, and she got to hike out to find a ranger/deputy. So have fun chucking your rocks, but don't be stupid about it.