My sister killed a pigeon once. She was driving the family minivan (a 1989 Dodge Caravan) home, and a pigeon flew straight into the front of the car. She braked, mainly just as a reflex to seeing a good-sized object headed straight towards the front of the car, but it was of no use. She didn't really care once she saw all the feathers fly all over and onto the windshield and whatnot and she realized it was just a suicidal pigeon. Pigeons are pretty nasty creatures, and New York City is completely overrun by them, anyway.

She came home and told us all about it, with a big smile on her face. I Think my uncle put it best:

My sister: "Guess what! I killed a pigeon with the car today!"

My uncle: "Really? Good!"