Doom... you're alone and nobody else cares. In JP3, there were, like six quills on the male's heads- not feathers... you're watching a film, aesthetic over accuracy to creatures that once lived, but have never been seen alive with the human eye. Nobody gives a shit, especially when a six foot lizard is much scarier than a six foot turkey.
Jack Horner can kiss my bootypipe and bubble some bongwater in there, with a poof of pink eye-guaranteeing smoke.