The residents of Vlkolinec in Slovakia — there are 17 — say that since the place was named a world heritage site, gawking hordes have made it unlivable. The village can receive 1,000 visitors a day in peak season. Anton Sabucha, 68, a lifelong resident, put up a sign declaring “photos forbidden” and erected a metal barrier to hold back the tide.

He is considering a new sign reading, “Please take photographs — 50 euros a shot.” Demanding payment, he said, “might be a polite way to get rid of the crowd.” Vlkolinec, a cluster of fairy-tale wooden houses surrounded by forest, has long been known in Slovakia as a place of bewitching, unspoiled beauty. But it started attracting visitors in large numbers after 1993, when UNESCO declared it “a remarkably well-preserved rural medieval settlement featuring wooden architecture” and inscribed the village on its list of world heritage sites. Getting trumpeted as world heritage, Mr. Sabucha said, “was a big mistake.” He is lobbying to get the village delisted.

Tourists used to visit before, “even during the life of my grandfather,” Mr. Sabucha said, “but they were interested in real life. Now it is just crowds of people who come to gawk at us and take photographs.” As tourists have swarmed in, many villagers have drifted away to find work and peace elsewhere. A former bricklayer, Mr. Sabucha makes a small income from the photographs he takes of bears that roam the nearby forest.

He also receives 400 euro ($458) each year as an “animation contribution,” a sum paid to all residents to compensate them for keeping the village alive for tourists. “I get paid to shut my mouth,” he said. That migration of people from rural areas is felt across much of Europe, particularly its eastern half. It began well before UNESCO declared Vlkolinec “the region’s best preserved and most complex urban unit of original folk architecture” thanks to its timbered houses with steep shingle roofs, a style of architecture little changed since people settled the area in the 15th century.

Until the 1960s, Vlkolinec had a school and around 200 residents, who raised animals and farmed terraced fields that have now all fallen into disuse and been taken over by advancing forests. The school closed because there were too few children and is now used to exhibit old photos and farm implements. Its 18th-century church still functions, but it has not had its own priest for many years.

An ancient wooden structure containing the village well — the only source of water when household taps run dry, as they did this summer during a drought — has been sealed shut to prevent tourists polluting it with waste. Martina Kmeova, whose 9-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter are the only children left in the village, said she was considering moving to the nearby town of Ružomberok for better schools and amenities. “We are the last family,” she said. “When we leave, the village will be empty.”.