Wild Things columnist Eric Brown follows up his previous observations on a book about nature's sounds by describing a reed-fringed local oasis with aural health benefits which may just cut surgery and hospital waiting times for some visitors.

Readers may recall my last column about a book discussing sounds in nature and whether they actually amounted to some sort of animal language.

Wild Things: What does all this noise mean?

It prompted me to think more about this subject, the value of listening to these sounds and where to do so. The pandemic persuaded many to discover wild places where nature's sights and sounds could be sampled on permitted short walks during lockdowns. They derived therapeutic rewards from those excursions.

Parks, open spaces and nature reserves were suddenly overwhelmed with people paying first visits to such places as they sought escapes from the daily grind of spiralling casualty figures and in many cases devastating bereavement.

News Shopper: A bittern in the reeds. Picture: Donna ZimmerA bittern in the reeds. Picture: Donna Zimmer

Now energy, food and mortgage bills are soaring, ULEZ payments are threatening livelihoods and there's no sign of tax cuts so it is time to turn again to nature for solace away from these mind-numbing pressures.

Where better to find peace and soothing sounds than a nature reserve? Luckily there's one just a short trip from my house. Crossness nature reserve sits on the borders of Belvedere and Abbey Wood. Crossness reserve, run by Thames Water, should be declared a health benefit. In fact it should be sponsored by the NHS because a visit here may negate the need for a later trip to a GP or hospital thereby saving time for doctors, the prospective patient and taxpayer cash. Not to mention cutting waiting lists. GPs and NHS managers should be invited down by the minibus load to see and hear for themselves. When you squeeze through the kissing gate on Norman Road you are immediately aware of what Simon and Garfunkel called "The Sound of Silence". A green wall of trees and bushes filters out traffic noise and natural sounds take over. Walk to a bench near the Great Breach lagoon, sit and wait. The first sound comes from reeds swishing and swaying gently in a breeze. It seems like a carpenter sandpapering wood and is the basis of our layered soundscape. Next come backing voices. Ducks quack rhythmically like feathered drummers and the constant hum and buzz of unseen insects lays down another sound texture.

In summer, solo singers like reed warblers, sedge warblers and reed buntings pipe up. Then lead singers break in as geese dominate the soundtrack. Suddenly the sound of feet pattering across water recalls the opening of The Beatles track "Across the Universe". It is bulky geese or swans trying to get airborne, a feat finally accomplished with triumphant honking.

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Time to move on, still listening rather than looking. Cetti's warblers and chiffchaffs shout their onomatopoeic song, frogs occasionally croak, a scarce water vole may enter water with a percussive plop and grazing horses are heard whinnying. There's more reed-swishing from pathside ditches. A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to hear a buzzard's soprano voice and a raven's bass cronking call overhead.

By now you should have absorbed enough wild sounds to eliminate memories of household bills, family illness or other worries. Most London boroughs can only regard Bexley with envy for hosting such a fantastic facility. Regular visitors are aware of its calming properties. If you have never sampled the sounds of its rich and diverse wild things, why not give it a try? Doctors especially welcome. The moment you enter that Norman Road kissing gate you step into your own Narnia. A public footpath towards the Thames path crosses the reserve and membership allows visits to private areas. Contact manager Karen Sutton at karen.sutton@thameswater.co.uk