Three ostriches had a running argument over the best way for an ostrich to defend himself.  The youngest brother practiced biting and kicking incessantly, and held the black belt.  He asserted that “the best defense is a good offense.”  The middle brother lived by the maxim that “he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”  Through arduous practice, he had become the fastest ostrich in the desert- which, you must admit, is rather fast.  The eldest brother, being wiser and more worldly, adopted the typical attitude of mature ostriches: “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”  He was far and away the best head-burier that any ostrich could recall.

One day a feather hunter came to the desert and started robbing ostriches of their precious tail feathers.  Each of the three brothers therefore took on a group of followers for instruction in the proper methods of self-defense - according to each one’s separate gospel.

Eventually the feather hunter turned up outside camp of the youngest brother, where he heard the grunts and snorts of all the disciples who were busily practicing kicking and biting.  The hunter was on foot, but armed with an enormous club, which he brandished menacingly. Fearless as he was, the ostrich was no match for the hunter, because the club was much longer than an ostrich’s legs or neck.  After taking many lumps and bumps and not getting in a single kick or bite, the ostrich fell exhausted to the ground.  The hunter casually plucked his precious tail feather, after which all his disciples gave up without a fight.

When the youngest ostrich told his brothers how his feather had been lost, they both scoffed at him.  “Why didn’t you run?” demanded the middle one.  “A man cannot catch an ostrich.”

“If you had put your head in the sand and ruffled your feathers properly,” chimed in the eldest, “he would have thought you were a yucca and passed you by.”

The next day the hunter left his club at home and went out hunting on a motorcycle.  When he discovered the middle brother’s training camp, all the ostriches began to run - the brother in the lead.  But the motorcycle was much faster, and the hunter simply sped up alongside each ostrich and plucked his tail feather on the run.

That night the other two brothers had the last word.  “Why didn’t you turn on him and give him a good kick?” asked the youngest.  “One solid kick and he would have fallen off that bike and broken his neck.”

“No need to be so violent,” added the eldest.  “With your head buried and your body held low, he would have gone past you so fast he would have thought you were a sand dune.”

A few days later, the hunter was out walking without his club when he came upon the eldest brother’s camp.  “Eyes under!” the leader ordered and was instantly obeyed.  The hunter was unable to believe his luck, for all he had to do was walk slowly among the ostriches and pluck an enormous supply of tail feathers.

When the younger brothers heard this story, the youngest said,  “he was unarmed.”  “One good bite on the neck and you’d never have seen him again.”

“And he didn’t even have that infernal motorcycle,” added the middle brother.  “Why, you could have outsidtanced him at a half trot.”

But the brothers’ arguments had no more effect on the eldest that his had had on them, so they all kept practicing their own methods while they patiently grew new tail feathers.

Moral: It’s not know-how that counts; it’s know-when.

in other words:   No single “approach” will suffice in a complex world.